Gavin stood outside her door for several minutes before going to the room he now used. What was wrong with him? he demanded of himself. Where did this new timidity with women come from? She was ready for him; he’d seen it in her eyes. Today, for the first time in many weeks, she’d smiled at him and for the first time ever, she’d called him by his first name. Could he risk losing that little gain by forcing his way into her chamber and again risk causing new hate?
What did it matter if he raped Judith again? Hadn’t he enjoyed it the first night? He undressed quickly and slid into the empty bed. He didn’t want to rape her again. No, he wanted her to smile at him, to call his name and hold her arms out to him. Gone from his mind were all thoughts of triumph. He fell asleep remembering the way she’d clung to him when she’d been frightened.
Chapter Twelve
GAVIN WOKE VERY EARLY AFTER A FRETFUL NIGHT’S SLEEP. The castlefolk were beginning to stir, but the sound was still subdued. His first thought was of Judith. He wanted to see her. Had she really smiled at him yesterday?
He dressed quickly in a linen shirt and a coarse woolen doublet, secured with a wide leather belt. He pulled linen hose over his muscular calves and thighs, tieing them to the linen braies that he wore as a loincloth. Afterward, he hurried down the stairs to the garden and there cut a fragrant red rose, its petals kissed by pearly drops of dew.
The door to Judith’s chamber was closed. Silently, Gavin opened it. She was asleep, one hand tangled in her hair which was spread across her bare shoulders and the pillow beside her. He placed the rose on the pillow and gently removed a curl from her cheek.
Judith opened her eyes slowly. It seemed a part of her dreams to see Gavin so near. She touched his face gently, her thumb on his chin, feeling the unshaved bristles, her fingers on his cheeks. He looked younger than usual, the lines of care and worry gone from his eyes. “I didn’t think you were real,” she whispered, watching his eyes as they softened.
He moved his head slightly and bit the tip of her finger. “I am very real. It’s you who seem to be a dream.”
She smiled wickedly at him. “Then we are well pleased with our dreams, aren’t we?”
He laughed as he put his arms around her roughly and rubbed his cheek on the tender flesh of her neck, delighting in her squeals of protest as his whiskers threatened to remove her skin. “Judith, sweet Judith,” he whispered as he nibbled her earlobe. “You are always a wonder to me. I don’t know if I please you or not.”
“And would it matter so much if you did not?”
He drew back from her and touched her temple. “Yes, I think it would matter.”
“My lady!”
They both looked up as Joan burst into the room.
“A thousand pardons, my lady,” Joan said, sniggering. “I didn’t know you were so well occupied, but the hour grows late and there are many who call for you.”
“Tell them to wait,” Gavin said heatedly as he held Judith tightly as she tried to push him away.
“No!” Judith said. “Joan, who summons me?”
“The priest asks if you wish to begin the day without mass. Lord Gavin’s man, John Bassett, says some horses from Chestershire have arrived. And there are three cloth merchants who want to have their wares inspected.”
Gavin stiffened and released his wife. “Tell the priest we will be there and I will see the horses after mass. And tell the merchants—” he stopped, disgusted. Am I master of this house or not? he demanded of himself.
Judith put her hand on his arm. “Tell the merchants to store their wares and attend mass with us. I will see them after mass.”
“Well?” Gavin asked the skinny maid. “You’ve been told what to do. Now go.”
Joan hugged the door to her back. “I must help my lady dress.”
Gavin began to smile. “I will do that. Perhaps I’ll find some pleasure in this day besides duty.”
Joan smirked at her mistress before she slinked around the door and closed it.
“Now, my lady,” Gavin said as he turned back to his wife. “I am yours to command.”
Judith’s eyes sparkled. “Even if it concerns the matter of your horses?”
He groaned in mock agony. “It was a silly quarrel, wasn’t it? I was angry at the rain more than at you.”
“And why should the rain have made you angry?” she teased.
He leaned back over her. “It kept me from a sport I much desired.”
She put her hand on his chest, felt his heart hammering. “Do you forget the priest waits?”