Raine was immediately on one knee before her, the hinges of the armor creaking, steel against steel clanging. “I would be honored.”
Judith lifted the transparent veil that covered her hair and took one of the gold ribbons from a braid. It was obvious that her maids had known about the giving of favors to a knight.
Raine smiled at her as he put his hand on his hip and she tied the ribbon around his upper arm. Before she finished, Miles walked to the other side of her and knelt also. “You would not favor one brother over the other, would you?”
Today, when she looked at Miles, she understood what other women had understood about him since he had his first beard. Yesterday she had been a virgin and had not known the meaning of his intense gaze. She blushed prettily and bent her head to slip another ribbon around her other brother’s arm.
Raine saw the blush and began to laugh. “Don’t start on her, Miles,” he laughed, for Miles’s women were a common joke about the Montgomery castle. Stephen, the second brother, once complained that Miles had impregnated half the serf girls by the time he was seventeen, the other half by eighteen. “Don’t you see Gavin glaring at us?”
“I see both of you making fools of yourselves,” Gavin said with a snarl. “There are other women here. Go find one of them to parade yourselves before like braying jackasses.”
Judith had barely finished tying the knot of the ribbon on Miles before Gavin’s fingers bit into her arm and he forced her away. “You’re hurting me!” she said, trying to pry his fingers loose but making no progress.
“I will more than hurt you if you flaunt yourself before other men again.”
“Flaunt!” she jerked her arm but only succeeded in tightening Gavin’s grip. All around her were knights kneeling to ladies, receiving ribbons, belts, sleeves of gowns, even jewels, and yet he accused her of flaunting herself. “A dishonest person always believes dishonesty of others. Maybe you seek to accuse me of your own faults.”
He stopped and stared at her, his eyes dark. “I accuse you only of what I know to be true. You’re hot for a man, and I will not have you playing the whore for my brothers. Now sit here and cause no more strife among us.” He turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Judith alone in the stands garlanded with the Montgomery crest.
For a moment, Judith’s senses did not function; she could neither see nor hear. What Gavin said was unjust and she could have dismissed it as such, except that he’d thrown in her face what they did in private—that she could not forgive. Had she done wrong in responding to his touch? If so, how did one stop? She could barely remember the events of the night. It was all one delicious red-velvet blur to her. His hands on her body had sent waves of delight through her; after that, she recalled little. Yet he threw it at her as if she were unclean. She blinked back tears of frustration. She was right to hate him.
She mounted the steps to enter the Montgomery seats. Her husband had left her alone to meet his relatives. Judith held her head high and refused to let anyone see that tears were beginning to well.
“Lady Judith.”
A soft voice finally penetrated her senses, and she turned to see an older woman dressed in the somber habit of a nun.
“I would like to introduce myself. I met you yesterday, but I am not sure you will remember. I am Gavin’s sister, Mary.” Mary was staring at her brother’s back. It was not like Gavin to walk away and leave a woman unattended. All four of her brothers—Gavin, Stephen, Raine and Miles—were extremely courteous. Yet Gavin had not smiled once at his bride, and although he did not participate in the games, he went to the tents. Mary could not understand him at all.
Gavin walked through the crowds to the tents at the end of the lists. Many people slapped him on the back and gave him knowing winks. The closer he got to the tents, the louder came the familiar clang of iron and steel. He hoped that the sanity of mock war would calm him.
He held his shoulders back, kept his eyes straight ahead. No one would have guessed the blind rage that filled him. She was a bitch! A conniving, masterful bitch! All he could think was that he wanted to beat her and make love to her at the same time. He had stood there and watched as she smiled so sweetly at his brothers; yet when she looked at him, it was as if he were something detestable.
And all he could think of was the way she’d been with him during the night. She had kissed him greedily, held him to her hungrily, but only after he had forced her to come to him. He’d raped her once, used the pain of her hair twisted around his arm to command her to him the second time. Even the third time, he had had to act against her initial protest. Yet she laughed and gave his brothers gold ribbons—gold like her eyes. If she gave such passion to him whom she freely admitted she hated, what would she be like with a man she liked? He had watched her with Raine and Miles, imagined them touching her, kissing her. Suddenly it was all Gavin could do to keep from knocking her to the ground. He wanted to hurt her, and he had. At least there was some satisfaction in that, except that he got no pleasure from it. In truth, the expression on her face only made him more furious. The damn woman had no right to look at him so coldly.
Angrily, he threw back the flap of Miles’s tent. Since Miles was on the field, it should have been empty, but it wasn’t. Alice stood there, her eyes sedately lowered, her little mouth submissive. She was a welcome relief to Gavin, who’d had too much in the last day of a woman who snarled at him then drove him insane with her body. Alice was what a woman should be—calm, a subordinate to a man. Without thought, he grabbed her, kissing her violently. He enjoyed it when she melted in his arms. She offered no resistance, and he was glad of that.
Alice had never seen Gavin in such a mood, and she silently thanked whoever was responsible. Yet, for all her desire, she was no fool. A tournament was too public, especially when so many of Gavin’s relatives camped nearby. “Gavin,” she whispered against his lips, “this is neither the place nor the time.”
He pulled away from her immediately, feeling that at that moment he could not stand another reluctant female. “Go then!” he stormed as he left the tent.
Alice looked after him, a frown creasing her smooth brow. Obviously, the pleasure of bedding his new wife had not turned him from herself, as she feared it might. But still he was not the Gavin she knew.
Walter Demari could not take his eyes off Judith. She sat quietly in the Montgomery pavilion, listening attentively to her new relatives as they welcomed her to the family. Every minute since he’d first seen her, when she left the castle to ride to the church, he had watched her. He’d seen Judith slip away to the walled garden behind the tower, seen the look on her face when she returned. He felt as if he knew her, and more than that…he loved her. He loved the way she walked, with her head up, her chin firm, as if she were ready to face the world no matter what lay ahead. He loved her eyes, her little nose.
He’d spent the night alone, thinking of her, imagining her as his.
Now, after a sleepless night, he began to wonder why she was not his. His family was as rich as that of the Montgomeries and more. He’d been a frequent visitor to the Revedoune manor, a friend to Judith’s brothers.
Robert Revedoune had just purchased a lapful of fried wafers from one of the vendors and was holding a mug of verjuice.
Walter did not hesitate or take time to explain what had become a burning issue to him. “Why didn’t you offer the girl to me?” he demanded, towering over the seated man.
Robert looked up in surprise. “What ails you, boy? You should be on the field with the other men.”
Walter sat down and ran his hand through his hair. He was not an unattractive man, but neither was he handsome. He had eyes of a nondescript blue and a too-prominent nose. His lips were thin, shapeless, and could easily be cruel. His sandy hair was carefully curled into a tight little roll about his neck. “The girl, your daughter,” he repeated. “Why didn’t you offer her to me? I spent enough time with your sons. I’m not rich, but my estates rival those of Gavin Montgomery.”
Robert shrugged, eating a wafer, the jelly oozing out between the crisp layers, and drinking deeply of the sour verjuice. “There are other rich women for you,” he observed noncommittally.