He stared across the emptiness of the night, listening for the sound of hoofbeats; but the countryside was silent, a mass of darkness broken only by the darker shadows. A dog skulked from one tree to the next, eyeing Gavin, wary of the silent, still man. The night brought back memories of the first time he and Alice had met in this clearing, a wind-sheltered place open to the sky. In the day a man could ride past it and not notice it, but at night the shadows transformed it into a black velvet box, only big enough to hold a jewel.
Gavin had met Alice at the wedding of one of her sisters. Althought the Montgomeries and the Valences were neighbors, they rarely saw each other. Alice’s father was a drunkard. He cared little for his estates; he lived—and forced his wife and five daughters to live—as poorly as some serfs. It was out of a sense of duty that Gavin attended a wedding there, as a represen
tative of his family actually, his three brothers having refused to go.
Out of the dung heap of filth and neglect, Gavin saw Alice—his beautiful, innocent Alice. He could not at first believe she was one of the family of fat, plain daughters. Her clothes were of the richest materials, her manners delicate and refined, and her beauty…
He’d sat and stared at her, as several of the other young men did. She was perfect; blonde hair, blue eyes, a little mouth that he ached to make smile. Right then, before he’d even spoken to her, he’d become infatuated with her. Later, he had to plow his way through men to get to her side. His violence seemed to shock Alice and her lowered eyes, her soft voice had mesmerized him further. She was so shy, so reticent that she could hardly answer his questions. Alice was all and more than he could hope for—virginal yet womanly.
That night, he asked her to marry him. She gave him a startled look, her eyes like sapphires for a moment. Then she lowered her head and murmured something about needing to ask her father.
The next day Gavin went to the drunkard and asked for Alice, but the man gave him some nonsense about the girl’s mother needing her. His words were strangely halting, as if he’d been coached and spoke a memorized speech. Nothing Gavin said could make Valence change his mind.
Gavin left in disgust, furious at being thwarted from having the woman he wanted. He had not ridden far when he saw her. Her hair was uncovered, the setting sun making it glow, the rich blue velvet of her gown reflecting her eyes. She was anxious to hear what her father’s answer was. Gavin told her, angrily, and then he’d seen her tears. Alice tried to hide them, but he could feel them as well as see them. In minutes, he was off his horse, pulling her from hers. He didn’t remember how it happened. One minute he was comforting her. The next, they were here, in this secret place, their clothes removed and in the throes of passion. He did not know whether to apologize or rejoice. Sweet Alice was no serf to tumble in the hay; she was a lady, someday to be his lady. And she was a virgin. Of that he was sure when he saw the two drops of blood on her slim thighs.
Two years! Two years ago that had been. If he had not spent most of the time in Scotland, patrolling the borders, he would have demanded her father give Alice to him. Now that he’d returned, he planned to do just that. In fact, if need be, he would go to the king with his plea. Valence was unreasonable. Alice told Gavin of her talks with her father, of her begging and pleading with him, but to no avail. Once she showed him a bruise she received for pressing Gavin’s suit. Gavin had been insane then. He’d grabbed his sword and would have gone after the man if Alice hadn’t clung to him, tears in her eyes, and begged him please not to harm her father. He could refuse her tears nothing, so he sheathed his sword and promised her he would wait. Alice reassured him that her father would eventually see reason.
So they had continued to meet secretly, like wayward children—a situation that disgusted Gavin. Yet Alice begged him not to see her father, to allow her to persuade him.
Gavin shifted his stance now and listened again. Still there was only silence. This morning he’d heard Alice was to marry that piece of water-slime, Edmund Chatworth. Chatworth paid the king an enormous fee so that he would not be called upon to fight in any wars. He was not a man, Gavin thought. Chatworth did not deserve the title of earl. To think of Alice married to such as that was beyond imagination.
Suddenly all Gavin’s senses came alert as he heard the muffled sounds of the horse’s hooves on the damp ground. He was beside Alice instantly and she fell into his arms.
“Gavin,” she whispered, “my sweet Gavin.” She clung to him, almost as if in terror.
He tried to pull her away so he could see her face but she held him with such desperation that he dared not to. He felt the wetness of her tears on his neck and all the rage he’d felt during the day left him. He held her close to him, murmuring endearments in her little ear, stroking her hair. “Tell me, what is it? What has hurt you so?”
She moved away so she could look at him, secure in the knowledge that the night could not betray the lack of redness in her eyes. “It’s too awful,” Alice whispered hoarsely. “It is too much to bear.”
Gavin stiffened somewhat as he remembered what he’d heard about her marriage. “Is it true then?”
She sniffed delicately, touched a finger to the corner of her eye and looked up at him through her lashes. “My father cannot be persuaded. I even refused food to make him change his mind, but he had one of the women…No, I won’t tell you what they did to me. He said he would—Oh, Gavin, I cannot say the things he said to me.” She felt Gavin stiffen.
“I will go to him and—”
“No!” Alice said almost frantically, her hands clasping his muscular arms. “You cannot! I mean…” She lowered her arms and her lashes. “I mean, it’s already done. The betrothal has been signed and witnessed. There is nothing anyone can do now. If my father withdrew me from the bargain, he would still have to pay my dowry to Chatworth.”
“I will pay it,” Gavin said stonily.
Alice gave him a look of surprise; then more tears gathered in her eyes. “It wouldn’t matter. My father will not allow me to marry you. You know that. Oh, Gavin, what am I to do? I will be forced to marry a man I do not love.” She looked up at him with such a look of desperation that Gavin pulled her close to him. “How could I bear to lose you, my love?” she whispered against his neck. “You are meat and drink to me, sun and night. I…I will die if I lose you.”
“Don’t say that! How can you lose me? You know I feel the same about you.”
She pulled away to look at him, suddenly happier. “Then you do love me? Truly love me, so that if our love is tested, I will still be sure of you?”
Gavin frowned. “Tested?”
Alice smiled through her tears. “Even if I marry Edmund, you will still love me?”
“Marry!” He nearly shouted as he pushed her from him. “You plan to marry this man?”
“Have I a choice?” They stood in silence, Gavin glaring at her, Alice with eyes demurely lowered. “I will go then. I will go from your sight. You needn’t look at me again.”
She was almost to her horse before he reacted. He grabbed her roughly, pulling her mouth to his until he bruised her. There were no words then; none were needed. Their bodies understood each other even if they couldn’t agree. Gone was the shy young lady. In her place was the Alice of passion that Gavin had come to know so well. Her hands tore frantically at his clothes until they quickly lay in a heap.
She laughed throatily when he stood nude before her. His body was hard-muscled from many years of training. He was a good head taller than Alice, who often towered over men. His shoulders were broad, his chest powerfully thick. Yet his hips were slim, his stomach flat, the muscles divided into ridges. His thighs and calves bulged muscle, strong from years of wearing heavy armor.
Alice stepped away from him and sucked her breath in through her teeth as she devoured the sight of him. Her hands reached for him as if they were claws.