The Velvet Promise

by Jude Deveraux

  “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.

  Judith’s heart leaped to her throat and nearly choked her. There was danger in this game. She watched breathlessly as Gavin charged forward on his great horse, his head lowered, his arm braced against the lance. His lance struck the opponent’s shield squarely just as his own shield was hit. The lances broke and the men rode to opposite ends of the field to obtain new ones. Fortunately, the lances used in battle were stronger than the wooden ones used in games. The object was to break three lances without losing the stirrups. If a man was unseated before three runs were made, he had to pay the worth of his horse and armor to his adversary—no trifling sum. Thus had Raine made a fortune on the tournament circuit.

  But men did get hurt. Accidents happened constantly. Judith knew this and she watched fearfully as Gavin rode again, and again neither man lost his stirrups.

  A woman near Judith giggled, but she paid no attention until words reached her. “Her husband is the only man who carries no favor—yet she gives gold ribbons to his brothers. What do think of such a hoyden?”

  The words were malicious and meant for Judith’s ears; yet, when she turned, no one showed any interest in her. She looked back at the knights who walked among the horses or stood at the end of the field near her. What the woman said was true. All the knights had ribbons or sleeves waving from their lances or helmets. Raine and Miles had several, and on one arm they each wore a frayed gold ribbon.

  Judith only meant to run across the edge of the field and catch Gavin before he charged his opponent for the third time. She was new to the joust and had no idea that what she did was dangerous. The war-horses, bred for strength, size and endurance, were trained to help a man in times of war. They could use their great hooves to kill as easily as a man used a sword.

  She did not hear the gasps as man after man pulled his horse back from her racing figure. Neither was she aware that several of the people in the stands had seen her and now stood, their breaths held.

  Gavin looked up from his squire as he was handed a new lance. He could feel the gradual hush come over the crowd. He saw Judith immediately and realized there was nothing he could do. By the time he dismounted, she would have reached him. He stared, every muscle rigid.

  Judith had no ribbon to give him but she knew he must have a favor from her. He was hers! She pulled off her gossamer veil as she ran across the sand, slipping the braid of pearls back over her hair.

  When she reached Gavin she held up the veil for him. “A favor,” she smiled tentatively.

  He did not move for a moment then lifted his lance and held it down beside her. Quickly, Judith knotted a corner of the veil securely above the shaft. When she looked up at him and smiled, he leaned forward, put his hand behind her head and nearly lifted her from the ground as he kissed her. The nosepiece of the helmet was cold against her cheek and his kiss was hard. When he released her to sink back on her heels in the sand, she was dazed.

  Judith was unaware of the suddenly quiet crowd, but not so Gavin. His bride had risked her life to give him a favor, and now he held his lance high—in triumph. His grin seemed to reach from one side of the helmet to the other.

  The crowd’s roar of approval was deafening.

  Judith whirled, saw that every eye was upon her. Her cheeks flamed and her hands covered her face. Miles and Raine ran from the sidelines, threw their arms protectively around her and half-carried her to safety.

  “If you hadn’t pleased Gavin so much, I would turn you over my knee for that,” Raine said.

  Another cheer went up as Gavin unhorsed his opponent. Judith did not enjoy being the center of so much laughing. She picked up her skirts and made her way as quickly as possible back to the castle. Perhaps a few minutes alone in the garden would help her cheeks return to their normal color.


  Alice slammed into the tent of the Earl of Bayham, a rich place of silk walls and Byzantine carpets erected for the comfort of Edmund Chatworth.

  “Something is wrong?” a deep voice behind her asked.

  Alice whirled to glare at Roger, Edmund’s younger brother. He sat on a low bench, his shirt removed as he carefully ran the edge of his sword along a whetstone he turned with his foot. He was a handsome man, blond hair streaked by the sun, a straight aquiline nose, a firm mouth. There was a curved scar by his left eye that in no way detracted from his good looks.

  Many times Alice wished Roger were the earl instead of Edmund. She started to answer his question, then stopped. She could not tell him of her anger as she saw Gavin’s wife making a spectacle of herself in front of several hundred people. Alice had offered him a favor, but he would not take it. Gavin said there was too much talk of them already, and he would not cause more.

  “You play with fire, you know,” Roger said as he ran his thumb along the edge of the sword. When Alice made no comment, he continued. “The Montgomery men do not see things as we do. To them right is right and wrong is wrong. There is nothing in between.”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Alice responded haughtily.

  “Gavin will not be pleased when he finds you have lied to him.”

  “I have not lied!”

  Roger raised one eyebrow. “And what reason did you give him for marrying my brother the earl?”

  Alice sat down heavily on a bench opposite Roger.

  “You didn’t think the heiress would be so beautiful, did you?”

  Alice’s eyes blazed as she looked up at him. “She is not beautiful! Her hair is red and she is sure to be covered with freckles.” She smiled snidely. “I must ask what cream she uses to cover them on her face. Gavin will not think her so desirable when he sees—”

  Roger cut her off. “I was at the bedding ceremony and saw a great deal of her body. There were no freckles. Don’t delude yourself. Do you think you can hold him when he is alone with her?”

  Alice stood and walked to the tent flap. She would not let Roger see how the words upset her. She must keep Gavin. At all costs, she must keep him. He loved her, deeply and sincerely, as no one had ever loved her. She needed that as much as she needed Edmund’s wealth. She did not let people see inside her; she hid her hurt well. As a child she’d been a beautiful daughter born among a gaggle of ugly, sickly sisters. Her mother gave all her love to the others, feeling Alice had enough attention from her nurses and the castle visitors. Scorned by her mother, Alice turned to her father for love. But the only thing Nicolas Valence cared for came from a bottle. So Alice learned to take what was not given to her. She manipulated her father into buying rich clothes for her, and her enhanced beauty made her sisters’ hate for her stronger. Besides her elderly maid, Ela, no one loved her, until Gavin. Yet all the years of struggling, trying to obtain even a few pennies, made her desire financial security as much as love. Gavin was not wealthy enough to give her that security, but Edmund was.

  Now, one-half of what she needed was being taken from her by a red-haired witch. Alice was not one to sit back and let the future take care of itself. She would fight for what she wanted…

  “Where is Edmund?” she asked Roger.

  He nodded his head to the linen partition across the back of the tent. “Asleep. Too much wine and too much food,” he said in disgust. “Go to him. He will need someone to hold his sick head.”

  “Easy, brother!” Raine commanded Miles. “His head is sore enough without banging it against a tent pole.”

  They carried Gavin on his shield, his legs hanging off the edge, his feet dragging in the dirt. He had just finished unhorsing his second opponent when the man’s lance slipped upward, just before he fell. The blow caught Gavin just above his ear. It was a hard blow which dented his helmet. Gavin saw only blackness and heard a ringing in his head that drowned all other noise. He managed to stay in his saddle, more from training than strength, as his horse turned and went back to the end of the field. Gavin looked down at his brothers and his squire, gave a sickly smile, then slowly fell into their uplifted arms.

  Now Raine and Miles transferred their brother to a cot inside their tent. They removed the damaged helmet and put a pillow beneath his head.

  “I will fetch a leech,” Raine said to his brother. “And you find his wife. There is nothing a woman likes more than a helpless man.”

  Several minutes later, Gavin began to regain consciousness. Cool water was being pressed on his hot face. Cool hands touched his cheek. He was dazed when he opened his eyes. His head roared. At first he couldn’t remember whom he saw.

  “It is I, Alice,” she whispered. He was glad there were no loud noises. “I have come to care for you.”

  He smiled a bit and closed his eyes again. There was something he should remember, but couldn’t.

  Alice saw that in his right hand he still clutched the veil Judith had given him. Even as he fell from his horse, he’d managed to loosen it from his lance. She didn’t like what that seemed to signify.

  “Is he badly hurt?” a woman asked anxiously outside the tent.

  Alice leaned forward and pressed her lips to Gavin’s unresponsive ones, guiding his arm till it went about her waist.

  The light from the opened tent on his face and the pressure on his lips made Gavin open his eyes. His senses came back to him then. He saw his wife, flanked by the scowling figures of his brothers, staring at him as he embraced Alice. He pushed her away and tried to sit up. “Judith,” he whispered.

  All the color drained from her face. Her eyes were dark and enormous. And the look she gave him was again of hatred. Then, suddenly, it changed to one of coldness.

  The quick change of pressure in his injured skull as he tried to sit up was too much for Gavin. The pain was unbearable. Gratefully, everything went black. He fell heavily back onto the pillow.

  Judith turned quickly on her heel and left the tent, Miles close beside her, as if she needed protection from some evilness.

  Raine’s face was dark when he looked back at his brother. “You bastard—” he began, then stopped when he saw Gavin was again unconscious. Raine turned to Alice, who looked up at him triumphantly. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. “You planned this!” he sneered. “God! How can I have such a fool for a brother? You’re not worth one of Judith’s tears, yet I think you have already caused her many.”

  Raine was further enraged when he saw a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. Without thought, he drew back his arm and slapped Alice with the back of his hand. He did not release her arm. When she looked back at him, Raine drew his breath in sharply at what he saw. Alice was not angry. Instead, she stared at his mouth. There was the unmistakable fire of passion in her eyes.

  He was shocked and disgusted as he’d never been in his life. He threw her against a tent pole so hard she could scarcely draw her breath. “Get away from me!” he said quietly. “And fear for your life if our paths ever cross again.”

  When she was gone, Raine turned back to his brother, who was beginning to move again. A leech who came to attend to Gavin’s sore head, stood shaking in the corner of the tent. The anger of one of the Montgomeries was no pretty sight.

  Raine spoke to the man over his shoulder. “See to him—and if you have any treatment that will cause him more pain, use it.” He turned and left the tent.

  It was night when Gavin woke from a deep, drugged sleep, induced by something the leech made him drink. The tent was dark and he was alone. Gingerly, he swung his legs over the edge of the cot and sat up. His head felt as if someone had made a deep cut from one corner of his eye, across the back of his head to the other eye, and now the two halves were being pulled apart. He propped his head in his hands, closing his eyes against the awful ache.

  Gradually, Gavin was able to open them. His first thought was that it was odd that he was alone. He would have thought either his squire or his broth
ers would be with him. He straightened his back and was aware of a new pain. He had slept several hours in his armor, and every hinge, every ridge had imprinted itself, through leather and felt, into his skin. Why had his squire not undressed him? Usually the boy was very conscientious.

  Something on the floor caught his eye and he bent and lifted Judith’s blue veil. He smiled as he touched it, remembering clearly how she’d run toward him, smiling, her hair flowing behind her. He’d never been so proud in his life as when she handed him the favor, although he’d held his breath when she came so near the war-horses. He ran his fingers across the border of seed pearls, held the gauze against his cheek. He could almost smell the scent of her hair, but of course that was impossible after the veil had been next to his sweaty horse. He thought of her face when he looked down at her. Now, that was a face worth fighting for!

  Then Gavin seemed to remember it changing. He dropped his head back in his hands. There were pieces of the puzzle missing. His head hurt so much that it was difficult to remember. He could see a different Judith—not smiling, not snarling as she had the first night of their marriage, but a Judith who looked at him as if he no longer existed. It was a struggle to fit all the pieces together. Gradually, he remembered the lance hitting his head, then someone speaking to him.

  Suddenly it was all clear. Judith had seen him holding Alice. It was strange that he could not remember wanting Alice’s comforting.

  It took all Gavin’s effort to stand. He had to remove his armor. He was too tired and weak to walk while weighed down so heavily. No matter how much his head hurt, he had to find Judith and talk to her.

  Two hours later, Gavin stood inside the great hall. He’d looked everywhere for his wife but could not find her. Every step caused him more pain until now he was nearly blind with the constant ache and the weariness of fighting it.

  Through a haze, he saw Helen as she carried a tray of drinks to some guests. When she returned, he pulled her to a darkened corner of the hall. “Where is she?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.