A Lily on the Heath 4 (23 page)

“Nay. I do not know why one should meddle in such a thing,” Dirick said. He pulled away, his eyes warm but irritated and his mouth full and sensual. “Busy-body.”

“But if we did not have the grace of the king—and the meddling of the queen—we would not be here together at this moment,” she reminded him. Then bit his shoulder to let him know she was not wholly distracted from the real matter at hand.

He groaned softly, combing his hands up into her heavy hair. “That is not like to happen for them,” he said with a half-laugh, half-groan as she reached to cup his stones.

“Aye, ’tis the truth,” Maris said, fondling him gently. “And that is why mayhap a bit of
plotting
on their behalf would be a good turn.”

“I do not know
why
we are talking about them when there are
other
things at hand.” As if to emphasize his words, he gathered up her breasts and gave them a little jiggle. And then he bent to give them all of his attention.

Maris lost her trail of thought for a moment, and the next thing she knew, the bed was behind her and Dirick was hiking up her skirt. She looked up at him and saw the fierce, desirous expression on his face as he slid his hands up along her thighs, easing them open. A pang of lust shot through her, adding to the heat that rolled through her body at his familiar, comforting touch…and that was why.
 

This.
Love.

“We are talking about them…because….” she murmured, helping her husband into position. They both sighed as he fit into place and slid deep. His fingers curved over her hips and pulled her close as she wrapped her legs around his firm arse.

“Who?” he asked. But it was more of a gruff laugh than a real question. Maris couldn’t answer, for by now he was moving in that familiar, hot rhythm. She had no thought for anything but pleasure.
 

~*~

Judith was indeed offered
a reprieve from the king; however, the queen did not do the same. So it was late in the evening when Judith was released from a long day of writing and rewriting and allowed to return to her chamber.

Her fingers were crabbed tightly from the tedious work, and she flexed them open and closed as she walked back through the dim corridors. While she was grateful to at last have a night alone in her own chamber, she couldn’t help but feel the strain of knowing there was no longer an avenue of escape from her fate of being trapped between Henry and Eleanor.
 

She’d sent word to Lord Warwick yesterday, immediately after Maris left the chamber. There had been no response from him. Not that she’d expected one, but mayhap in the deepest part of her soul, she had
hoped
for one. Instead, she could only come to the conclusion that he was relieved to be released from their agreement.

Nevertheless, she had been thinking of other ways to free herself from her predicament. The king had given her jewels and other baubles that were worth a small fortune. Mayhap she could find a way to leave Clarendon and take them with her to Paris. King Louis might allow her to join his court—for there was no love lost betwixt him, his former wife Eleanor, and the man for whom she’d divorced Louis. Of course, if she managed somehow to do that—for a woman traveling alone was a problem in and of itself—she would never see Lilyfare or Kentworth again. She would never be welcomed back in the English court. And—
 

A large, shadowy figure detached itself from a small alcove as she walked past, and Judith gasped in surprise.
 

“’Tis I,” said a familiar voice immediately.

“Mal—
Warwick
,” she managed to say, her heart pounding. “You startled me.” Walking through the twisty, dim corridors late in the evening was nearly as dangerous as walking through dark streets or alleys in town.

“’Twas only my intent to speak with you privately and unseen,” he said. But he remained in the shadows, his face partly obliterated.
 

“Very well,” she replied. “Now that I have swallowed my heart back to its place, speak.”

“Your message—I received it. You claim there is no longer a need for us to…continue on our previous path.”

“Aye,” she said, her voice low and unsteady. “I am not with child. And I have the means to prevent it for the future.”

“And therefore you are pleased and willing to remain the king’s concubine and the queen’s slave?” His tones were odd; she couldn’t read them. Nor his face, for he had not moved into the light.

Judith drew in a deep breath.
Nay, oh nay!
“’Tis not the urgent matter it was when we met three days ago.”

“You agreed to wed me. I would hold you to that promise.”

She gnawed on her lip as her insides warred with her brain: cautious hope battling guilt and fear. “I tricked you into offering for me,” she replied flatly.

“Do you wish to remain the king’s concubine?”

“Nay. Of course not!”

“I have already made the arrangements. ’Tis late to change them. I would hold you to your word.”

She realized her hand was pressed against the rough stone wall as she peered into the shadows. All she could see was a part of his shoes and hose and the corner of one sleeve. Her heart beat steadily in her chest as she closed her eyes.
God forgive me.
“Aye,” she said at last. “I will keep my word.”

Though her words were low and sober, inside she danced and leapt. But in the back of her mind, there was still the worry of what her acquiescence might mean for him. And guilt. For if aught happened to Malcolm because of her…. “If you are truly certain you are prepared for the king’s wrath,” she was compelled to add. “I fear what he and Eleanor will do.”

“I am willing.”

“Very well,” she replied, wishing he would step into the light. Wishing she could see his face, read what was there.

“I will send word to you anon.” And then he was gone, swishing into the darkness, down a side hallway and into the shadows.

ELEVEN

Three days later, Lady Judith of Kentworth
developed a horrible rash with red splotches all over her face and arms, and one presumed, elsewhere.

She was sent to her chamber after an examination by the queen’s trusted lady and healer Maris of Ludingdon, and there she was confined to be certain she spread no contagion to Eleanor and her baby.

For Judith, this quarantine was both a blessing and a curse. While she had some much-needed privacy and an opportunity to rest, she was also left alone with her thoughts and fears. She heard naught from Malcolm, nor did she know what to expect.

Nor was Judith even able to take the time to visit her raptors, which she had been forced to neglect since she attracted the attention of Henry. Fortunately, she communicated with Tessing through Tabby and knew that Hecate and the others were doing well. The eyases were growing and their baby feathers had fallen away. Soon they would be flying far and wide, and would need to be moved from the hacking house into the main mews.

While in her chamber, Judith had ample opportunity to look down from her arrow-slit window, watching the men training in the yard far below. She was certain she spotted Malcolm more than once—he was nearly always bare of torso and taller than all but Ludingdon—but on this day, well after the midday meal of her third day in confinement, she did not see him. In fact, the yard seemed to have fewer men than in days past though the weather was clear and sunny.

Maris had visited briefly on the morrow of each day, providing her with a salve to keep the splotches from itching. She also insisted Judith bathe daily in a tub with soaking oats and lavender to help keep the rash from irritating her further. By now, the patches were hardly visible and no longer itched, and Judith knew she would have no excuse to hide for much longer.

A knock at the chamber door had her turning eagerly from the window. Maris had already visited several hours before, and Judith expected no one but Tabby. But just as she reached to open the door, she hesitated. It could very well be a page from the queen or the king, come to assess her health.
 

The knock came again, more loudly and firmly. “Judith!” demanded a masculine voice.

She flung the door open. “Gavin?” she cried, shocked and delighted to see her cousin. She threw herself into his arms, which came around her tightly after an instant of hesitation, for he was not normally a demonstrative person. “What do you here?” she said, pulling away to look up at him.

Without responding, he stepped into the chamber and closed the door behind him. “I’ve come for your wedding, of course,” he said, looking at her closely. “You seem healthy enough, despite the story throughout the keep you’ve contracted some worrisome disease. Though a little peaked, as Maddie would say. But Ludingdon tells me it was all his wife’s doing.”

“Madelyne! Is she here too?”

“Nay, she did not come. I traveled too swiftly and she has just delivered herself of a baby only one month past. A girl,” he added, with a flash of pride and affection in his eyes. “Rosalind.”

“I am happy for you, Gavin,” Judith said, squeezing his hands. He’d been so troubled for so long, and the serene, beautiful Madelyne de Belgrume had brought love and light into his life.

“And you, Judith. You are to wed Warwick. Is this what you wish?” Gavin was looking down at her, his expression particularly serious. “If you mean to wed him only to be free of the king, tell me now. I will extricate you from this place if need be, and you will not be required to barter yourself in marriage.” His features, always dark and forbidding, were as stern as she’d ever seen them. “Now tell me true—do you wish to wed Warwick or nay?”

“I would wed him, Gavin. Not only to be quit of the court. He is a good man, and kind, and I believe he will make a fine husband. I have long wished to return to Lilyfare and to leave the queen’s side, but she would not allow it.”

Her cousin relaxed. “’Tis glad I am to hear of it, Judith. I was most pleased when Warwick sent word, requesting my blessing and explaining the circumstances. But I wanted to hear it from you myself.”

Malcolm had asked Gavin for his blessing? For some reason, that information made Judith even more content with her decision. “But I fear what Henry and Eleanor will do to him when they learn of this.”

Gavin shook his head. “Do you not worry. Warwick has laid his path neatly, and only part of it was sending word to me. And the marriage contract he had prepared is more than fair. Now, if you are willing, we must go at once. We haven’t much time.”

“Go where?”

He looked at her in surprise, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Why, to your wedding. Your groom awaits.”

~*~

Judith never imagined her wedding
would take place in the tiny, out-of-the- way chapel where she and Malcolm had first agreed to marry.

Nor did she anticipate it being crowded with so many people she could hardly see her groom, who stood at the tray-sized altar.

And she certainly did not intend to be wearing nothing more than a simple gold bliaut covered by her best cloak—the fanciest article of clothing she could grab before Gavin ushered her out of the chamber. And her hair…! She did not want to think on the sight of her hair, for surely she’d mussed the simple braids when she lay down on her bed for a nap after Tabby fixed it up after her bath.
 

“You look beautiful,” her cousin told her when she balked at leaving in her state of attire. “But we cannot wait. We must go now. If there is a delay, Henry may learn of the plan and put a stop to it. Once you are wed, ’tis a different matter—but if he halts it, I fear you will never be free of him.”

This was enough of a threat to get Judith out of her chamber in a swirl of cloak—even leaving behind her gold link girdle and emerald earbobs. And when she and Gavin arrived at the chapel, Maris was there at the doorway.
 

Maris ordered Gavin to step aside. “I’ll set her to rights…just one moment,” she said. A twitch, a pull and a tug later, she had pinned combs bejeweled with topazes and emeralds into Judith’s hair. “There,” she said. “Now you look lovely. And your rash is all but gone.”

Gavin took Judith’s arm and before she knew it, he was leading her down the short, narrow aisle to the altar. She recognized many of the faces who lined the route—Hugh de Rigonier and Castendown, Lord Rittendon, Alynne and Ursula…even Salisbury and Peter of Blois.

Judith nearly gasped aloud when she saw Father Anselm and the Archbishop of Canterbury standing at the small altar. Her eyes widened and she glanced at Gavin, who murmured, “Warwick takes no chance that the wedding will not be recognized.”

At that, Judith had the courage to look at Malcolm for the first time. He stood towering over everyone in the chapel, helped by his great height and broad shoulders as well as the small dais. She noted at once that his sable-brown hair had been trimmed and was shorter than she’d ever seen it, just past his chin. It was shiny and combed neatly, and his jaw clean-shaven and smooth.

Unlike Judith, he wore fine clothing: a tunic in the colors of Warwick—gray and blue—with detailed embroidery that must have taken many hours of work. Beneath the tunic was a
sherte
of dark blue, embroidered at the end of the long, tight sleeves in gold, red and white. He wore a heavy, ornate sapphire and emerald brooch at his throat, anchoring a shimmering gray cloak lined with dark red fabric. His boots were well-tooled dark brown leather, more costly than a good mare. On his right hand was a heavy signet ring with a square stone of onyx.