When he opened the door to the chamber Judith lay up to her neck in a tub of steamy water. Her auburn hair was piled atop her head in a soft mass of curls. Her eyes were closed, her head resting on the rim of the tub. The water must have been very hot because her face was lightly dampened with sweat. All his muscles froze at the sight of her. She had frowned at him, raged at him and even then she was magnificent, but now she was innocence personified. Suddenly he knew that this was what he wanted from her, this was all he needed. What did it matter that she despised him? She was his and his alone. His heart was pounding as he closed the door behind him.
“Joan?” Judith said languidly. Receiving no answer, her eyes flew open. She saw the look on Gavin’s face and knew his thoughts. In spite of herself, her heart began beating quickly. “Leave me to my privacy,” she managed to whisper.
He ignored her as he advanced, his dark eyes grown darker. He bent over her, took her chin in his hand. She tried to pull away but he held her fast. He kissed her, roug
hly at first but then his grip and kiss became gentle, deep.
Judith felt herself drifting. The pleasure of the hot water, his hand on her cheek, his kiss, weakened her. He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes, the gold warm and glowing. All thoughts of hatred were gone from them. There was only the nearness of their bodies. Their hunger for each other overcame any hostility or even thoughts of who loved whom.
Gavin knelt by the tub, his hand moving to the back of Judith’s neck. He kissed her again, ran his mouth along the curve of her neck. She was moist and warm and the rising steam was like his growing passion. He was ready, but he wanted to prolong his pleasure, drag it out to the height of near-pain. Her ears were sweet and smelled of the rose-scented soap she used.
Suddenly he wanted to see her—all of her. Gavin put his hands under Judith’s arms and lifted her. She gasped at the unexpected movement, at the coolness of the air after the heat of the water. A soft, warm towel hung within arm’s reach, which Gavin wrapped her in. Judith did not speak. Somewhere, buried in her mind, was the knowledge that words would break the spell. He touched her tenderly—no harsh demands, no bruising. He sat on a bench before the fire and stood her between his legs as if she were a child.
Had someone spoken of such a scene, Judith would have denied that it could happen, that Gavin was an insensitive brute. She felt no embarrassment by her nudity while he remained fully clothed, only wonder at the magic of the moment. Gavid dried her carefully. He was a bit clumsy, too rough at times, too gentle at others.
“Turn,” he commanded and she obeyed as he dried her back. He tossed the towel to the floor and Judith held her breath. But he did not speak. Then he ran his fingers down the deep indentation of her spine. She could feel the chills his touch brought. His one finger said more than a hundred caresses.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered throatily as he placed his palms on the curve of her hips. “So very beautiful.”
She did not breathe, even when she felt his lips on the side of her neck. His hands moved so torturously slow to her stomach, across her ribs and up to her breasts, which waited for him, begged for him. She released her pent-up breath and leaned back against him, her head resting against his shoulder, his mouth still on her neck. He ran his hands over her, touching her skin, exploring her body.
When Judith was nearly insane with desire, he carried her to the bed. In seconds, his clothes were on the floor and he was beside her. She pulled him to her, sought his mouth. He laughed at her grasping hands, teasing her, but there was no ridicule in his gray eyes. There was only the wish for prolonging their pleasure. A sparkle came to her eyes, and she knew she would have the last laugh. Her hands moved downward. When she found what she sought, there was no more laughter in his eyes. They were black with passion as he pushed her down beside him.
It was only moments before they cried out together, both released from their sweet torment. Judith felt drained, her bones weak as Gavin moved partially away, though his leg was still across hers, his arm across her breasts. She sighed deeply just before falling asleep.
Judith woke the next morning, stretching like a cat after a nap. Her arm slid across the sheet only to meet emptiness. Her eyes flew open. Gavin was gone and by the sun streaming through the window, it was late morning. Her first thought was to hurry outside, but the warm bed and the memory of last night kept her where she was. Judith turned to her side, ran her hand over the indented place beside her, buried her face in his pillow. It still smelled of Gavin. How quickly she’d come to know his scent.
She smiled dreamily. Last night had been heaven. She remembered Gavin’s eyes, his mouth—he filled her every vision.
A soft knock on the door sent her heart beating, then calmed abruptly when Joan opened it.
“You were awake?” Joan asked, a knowing smile on her face.
Judith felt too good to take offense.
“Lord Gavin rose early. He arms himself.”
“Arms himself!” Judith sat bolt upright in the bed.
“He only wishes to join the games. I don’t understand why; as the bridegroom, he doesn’t have to.”
Judith lay back against the pillow. She understood. This morning she could have soared from the top of the keep and come only lightly to earth. She knew Gavin must feel the same. The joust was a way to expend his energy.
She threw back the covers and jumped from the bed. “I must dress. It is late. You don’t think we could have missed him?”
“No,” Joan laughed. “We won’t miss him.”
Judith dressed quickly in a gown of indigo blue velvet with an underskirt of light blue silk. About her waist was a thin belt of soft blue leather studded with pearls.
Joan merely combed her mistress’s hair and put a transparent blue gauze veil edged in seed pearls on it. It was held in place by a braided circlet of pearls.
“I’m ready,” Judith said impatiently.
Judith walked rapidly to the tourney grounds and took her place in the Montgomery pavilion. Judith’s thoughts were at war with each other. Had she imagined last night? Had it been a dream? Gavin had made love to her. There was no other word for it. Of course she was very inexperienced, but could a man touch a woman as he touched her and not feel something for her? The day seemed brighter suddenly. Maybe she was a fool, but she was willing to try to make something of this marriage.
Judith craned her neck to see the end of the tourney field, to catch a glimpse of her husband, but there were too many people and horses in the way.
Quietly, Judith left the stands and walked toward the tents. She stopped along the outer fence, oblivious to the serfs and merchants who crowded about her. It was some minutes before she saw him. Gavin in normal attire was a powerful man, but Gavin in full armor was formidable. He mounted an enormous war-horse of dark gray, its trappings of green serge, green leather stamped and painted with golden leopards. He swung easily into the saddle, as if the hundred pounds of armor weighed nothing. She watched as his squire handed him his helmet, his shield, and finally his lance.