Judith frowned. She’d heard rumors, of course, that Gavin had been seen in her company, but she did not put much credence to it. Therese, well-known among the court for her overt sexual appetites and boastful comments, was much too coarse and conspicuous for Gavin’s tastes.
“You would consort with such a man?” squeaked Beatrice, her blue eyes wide with alarm and admiration.
Therese, a diminutive, curvaceous woman, rose from the loom and stepped into the center of the room. “Dangerous men are much more exciting than those milksops like Reginald D’Orrais,” she told the younger girl airily.
“Exciting or nay,” Artemis said pointedly, “that man turns my blood cold. And one who would be seen with him is likely to soon find a cold grave. Just as his wife did.” She turned suddenly to Madelyne. “Especially little nuns.”
Renee and Beatrice tittered. Artemis stepped toward Madelyne, who remained in her seat by the queen’s throne. “It must be frightening for you, little nun, to find yourself in such a vast world—so different from your cloister. Do you take care that you do not find yourself caught up in a world that you cannot manage.”
“Many thanks for your concern, Lady Artemis. I have found naught to fear in this court thus far. Only the cats with sharp claws who seek a scratching place have drawn my attention. I shall deal with those cats as I did with the mousers at the abbey: leave them outside in the cold.”
Judith settled in her seat. Madelyne might appear to be fragile and naive, but there was a solid shell of serenity about her that would keep the barbs from striking deeply.
Seventeen
“Your name is spoken with such fear and reverence in the ladies’ court,” Therese said into Gavin’s ear as she settled next to him that eventide.
Dinner was finished, and the platters of food had been removed by serfs and pages pushing between the rows of trestle tables. Ale and wine continued to flow as the court settled in for the evening’s entertainment.
“Most of the ladies fear you, but you know that I see you for what you truly are.”
Gavin tore his gaze from Madelyne, who sat among a cluster of nobility near the front of the great hall. “And what is that, Lady Therese?”
“A man with great passion, and a man who knows what he desires.” She pushed her generous breast against his arm and only many years of training to control his reflexes kept him from flinching.
He saw Madelyne turn slightly in her seat, away from the jongleur that danced while juggling goblets on the front dais. Her eyes scanned the crowded hall, and Gavin shifted himself away from Therese just as Madelyne’s gaze rested upon his. Their eyes met for a moment and suddenly his linen
“Lady Therese, did I not see the queen beckoning to you?” asked Clem, who sat across the table from them.
“Her majesty?” Therese nearly tripped on her own gown in her anxiousness. “Excuse me, Lord Mal Verne, but I must go.”
“Many blessings upon you, Clem,” said Gavin when she had gone.
His man’s face wrinkled in a wry smile, then settled into his usual dour expression. “A pox on all women, I say!”
Gavin raised his brows, but his attention had wandered back to Madelyne. Now, Lord Reginald had taken a seat next to her. Gavin’s jaw tightened and he watched intently to see what—if any—response she would give him. A smile, he saw, a brief one, and then her attention returned to the jongleur.
He became aware that Clem had been muttering on for a long moment about aught—and that fact that he was still speaking regained Gavin’s full attention. “What is it, man?” he asked, looking at his companion.
“Ye cannot ever trust’em! And when you think they’re comin’ forth with what they want, and ye got’em over their mad, then they get all mad about somethin’ else!” Clem took a long draft of ale, as though this unusually long speech had dried his tongue.
Gavin stared at him. “There is some comely wench who has captured your heart, then, Clem?”
“My heart? Nay! ’Tis not my heart she’s captured—’tis my ears and feet! The maid of Lady Madelyne—that woman Patricka—plagues me with her demands and orders. While I guard the lady’s door, the maid runs me willy- nilly with her silly tales and her calls for me to move this, and reach that, and open this, and foolish things such as that. I begin to feel like a nursemaid to that wench!”
Gavin remained silent, nodding his head, drinking his ale, peeking at Madelyne, and allowing Clem to bluster on. Strange as his unchecked tirade was, it saved Gavin from the necessity of having to respond.
“’Tis Jube whose eye has been caught by that maid—’tis not mine,” Clem said sourly, pausing to take a gulp from his goblet. Swiping a hand across his mouth, he continued, “It should be he who guards the door and runs household errands for that woman!”
Gavin, who’d seen Madelyne rise and begin to walk in his direction, quickly returned his attention to Clem— just in time to hear his last gripe. “Very well. If it will cease your moaning, you are then relieved of guard duty and I shall place Jube there during the day, henceforth. He may have his fill of the maid as long as he does not shirk his duty to watch over Lady Madelyne.”
Clem opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. “Many thanks my lord,” he said gruffly, and buried his face in his goblet.
“Hail, Lady Madelyne,” Gavin said, standing as she approached him. Her head was bare—still so strange to him to see that beautiful hair uncovered, despite the fact that she’d worn it thus since their arrival at court. Long strands of dark hair, wrapped in gold cord, hung from each temple, whilst the rest had been coiled and braided and gathered at the nape of her neck. Her gown trailed on the floor, the wide sleeves of her overtunic nearly brushing its hem, while hints of the tightly-laced bliaut underneath showed the lush curves of a very un-nunlike body.
Hiding his surprise that she should have sought him out, he continued smoothly, “I have just informed Clem that Jube will take a stint at the guard duty out side of your chambers for a time—during the day. At night, of course, Rohan will continue to pace out side of your doors.”
Madelyne gave a slight curtsey, glanced with a smile at Clem, and returned her attention to Gavin. “Aye, thank you my lord.” She felt the weight of his stare as his eyes scanned her from head to toe. Warmth crept up over her throat and face and she looked away in order to regain control over her suddenly scattered thoughts.
“I trust that your first day in Eleanor’s court was uneventful?”
Madelyne nodded, and the strange feeling ebbed. “’Tis nothing like the abbey, but I am certain I’ll adjust. I have little choice, at the least until I am wed.” The words stuck in her throat, but she must get used to saying them—and accepting them. For, barring some act of God, it appeared that her destiny was set.
Gavin shifted, and his face held a slight grimace. Good, she thought, ’tis right that he should feel some small discomfort after the result of his actions upon me. “’Tis the reason I have come to you,” she told him. “May we walk from here—’tis so loud—to talk? I have something I must ask of you.”
He nodded. “Of course, my lady.” He extended his forearm and she slipped her hand under and around it, cupping the sinewy, firm muscles under her fingers. He was warm and solid as she bumped against him while he pushed the way through throngs of people, leading her out of the hall. “Shall we go out side of the keep, or would you prefer to find somewhere within? We cannot go to your chamber of course.”
She looked up, surprised and pleased that he should ask. “May we go outside? ’Tis been long since I have breathed the moon air.”
His eyes softened, then crinkled at the corners. “The moon air. Aye, of course. Let us be off.”
His pace was slower now that they were out of the hall and away from the people. Gavin brought her through the entry way and past the guards posted at doors as tall as three men. Their bodies were closer now, shoulders brushing as they walked—his stride long and smooth, mismatched against her shorter, faster one.
Once outside, Madelyne slipped from him and stood on the hard-packed dirt, turning her face up to the moon. It was only a sliver on this night, but the stars were many and the air was chill and crisp after the cloying, food- soaked, smoke-filled, sweaty space of the great hall. Her lips moved in a brief, silent prayer—one of thanks and
