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At the top of the spiral stairs, Joan’s hand bit into the terrified girl.

“Here! stop that!” John Bassett growled. He had never been far from Judith’s room over the last several days. “Is this the one Lady Alice paid?” There wasn’t a person in the castle who wasn’t aware of the story of Alice’s treachery.

“Oh please, sir,” the girl begged, falling to her knees. “Don’t let her kill me. I won’t do anything like that again.”

John started to speak. Then he gave Joan a look of disgust and lifted the maid. Joan stood for several minutes, watching their retreating backs.

“Too bad he took her. You could have saved me some work,” said a quiet voice behind her.

Joan whirled to face Alice Chatworth. “I would rather see you at the bottom of the stairs,” Joan sneered.

Alice’s blue eyes blazed. “I will have your life for that!”

“Here? Now?” Joan taunted. “No, that’s not your way. You hire people to do your work for you—then you simper as if you were an innocent maid.”

No one had ever dared say such things to Alice!

“Come,” Joan taunted. “Why do you hesitate? I stand on the brink of the stairs.”

Alice was tempted to try to give the maid one hard push, but Joan looked to be strong, and Alice couldn’t risk losing such a struggle. “You will look to your life for this,” Alice sneered.

“No, I will look to my back, where such as you would strike.” Joan stared at the woman, then began to laugh. She laughed all the way up the stairs until she reached her mistress’s room.

The midwife and Gavin hovered over Judith. “The fever has begun,” the old woman said quietly. “Now prayers will help as much as anything else.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

JUDITH WAS DREAMING. HER BODY WAS HOT AND SORE, and she had trouble concentrating on what was happening. Gavin was there, smiling at her, but his smile was false. Behind him stood Alice Chatworth, her eyes glowing in triumph. “I have won,” the woman whispered. “I have won!”

Judith woke slowly, coming fretfully from the dream that seemed real as she felt the ache of her body, as if she’d slept for days on a board. She moved her head to one side. Gavin sat sleeping in a chair by the bed. Even asleep he looked tense, as if he were ready to spring to his feet. His face was haggard, his cheekbones prominent under his skin. He wore several days’ growth of beard, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

Judith was puzzled for a few moments, wondering why Gavin should look so tired and she should ache so badly. Her hand moved under the covers and touched her stomach. It had once been hard and slightly rounded, but now it was sunken and soft. And oh so horribly empty!

She remembered everything then, remembered Gavin in bed with Alice. He had said he no longer cared for her and Judith had begun to believe him. She had started to think of a good life together, of when their child would be born and they would be happy. What a fool she had been!

“Judith!” Gavin said in a strangely harsh voice. He quickly sat beside her on the bed, his hand feeling her forehead. “The fever is broken,” he said with relief. “How do you feel?”

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered. “Get away from me!”

Gavin nodded, his lips set in a firm line.

Before either of them could speak again the door opened and Stephen entered. The worried expression on his face gave way to a broad smile when he saw she was awake. He quickly went to the side of the bed opposite Gavin. “Sweet little sister,” he murmured. “We thought we might lose you.” He touched her neck gently.

At the sight of a familiar and loved face, Judith felt tears come to her eyes.

Stephen frowned and looked to his brother but Gavin shook his head. “Here, sweet,” Stephen said, gathering Judith in his arms. “Don’t cry,” he whispered as he stroked her hair.

“Was it a boy?” she whispered.

Stephen could only nod.

“I lost him!” she cried desperately. “He didn’t even have a chance of life before I lost him. Oh, Stephen, I wanted the baby so much. He would have been good and kind and so very beautiful!”

“Yes,” Stephen agreed. “Tall and dark like his father.”

Judith’s sobs tore through her. “Yes! At least my father was right about getting a grandson. But he is dead!”

Stephen looked over her head to his brother. He didn’t know who was the most grief-stricken, Gavin or the woman he comforted.


Tags: Jude Deveraux Montgomery/Taggert Historical