"I've forgiven you for taking me from the abbey," she offered, reaching to touch his face. It was the first time she'd felt the smoothness of his cheek, and she rested her hand there, allowing her fingers to soak up every sensation of warmth and the harsh, short hairs that had sprung up since that morning's shave. "I look ahead to my life with you and at Mal Verne. I've come to believe God has directed me in such a way that I could not balk it. "
He wrapped his arms around her waist, still conscious of the soreness in his shoulder, and pulled her hips to his. He cared not whether she would feel the throbbing arousal that lifted between them. "I did not ever believe I would wed again," he told her, stroking his hand down the side of her cheek.
"Judith told me what happened with Nicola. . . and my father. I didn't know. Gavin. . . I am sorry that he should have been the cause of so much grief in your life. . . . And Judith told me also of Gregory. She has long forgiven you, Gavin. . . 'tis time you forgave yourself. "
He sighed. "Ah, Judith. 'Tis ever she has the loose tongue!"
He pulled her again to him, again only to hold her head against his chest, to bury his face in her hair while the wind tossed around them, to allow himself the luxury of knowing only that moment. . . for that moment. Her breasts swelled against him and he enjoyed the knowledge that he would learn every part of those curves on the morrow.
"When we first met," Madelyne said, her voice muffled against his chest, "I saw you as a cold and driven man, seeking only revenge, and caring little for the sanctity of life. You acted foolishly during the fire-with honor, but with little thought for your safety. 'Twas as if you disdained danger, and relished the opportunity for death. " She pulled back to look up at him, her delicate features shadowed by the mooncast. "I no longer see that same need within you, Gavin. . . and I hope that your need for danger and killing and war will ease with time. "
"I have more to live for now," he told her, stroking her hair as it fluttered under his hand. "We will live together at Mal Verne with our children, and-" He stopped as she tensed within his arms, becoming completely still. "What is it, Madelyne? Verily you did not expect to be released from the obligation of bearing my heir?" Fear gripped him and harshness crept into his voice. Surely she did not expect that he would relieve her of the duty of filling his bed!
He held her away to look into her eyes and saw genuine fear shining in them, there under the moonlight. "You understand that I must have an heir, and that any man you would marry would require that of you!"
Madelyne nodded slowly, pulling from the grip he did not want to release. She stood with her arms crossed over her middle as though she felt pain there, and looked out into the darkness. "Aye, my lord, I know. . . and it was foolish of me to forget that. 'Tis only. . . . Gavin, I have madness running in my blood! I am tainted. . . and will have tainted children!"
Relief, pure and bold, swept through him. "Madelyne. . . ah, Madelyne. . . . " He cupped her face with his hands. "Listen, and listen well. . . . " He delved into her eyes, searching them to make sure she saw his sincerity-and the truth therein. "Your father is mad, aye, but, Madelyne, there is nothing but sanity-beautiful, warm, sensitive, true serenity in you. I look into your eyes and I see naught of the madness that clouds Fantin's eyes or his actions. . . . Madelyne, 'tis I who should fear tainting your goodness with my blood should we have a child!"
She stared up at him for a moment, then began to blink rapidly as moisture glistened in her eyes. "Gavin. . . thank you. Such beautiful words. . . and I see the conviction in your eyes, and know that you believe them. I can only pray, then, that you are right and that the madness will not run in the veins of our children. "
Chapter Twenty-Four
"In the name of God, let all know that this man and this woman are joined forevermore. Let none pull them asunder, and let them be one until death parts them. "
Madelyne looked at Gavin, and he felt a surge of emotion as he grasped her hands tighter. He bent to press a chaste kiss to her pink lips, then another, and pulled away as the witnesses applauded in delight. Taking one of her hands, he slipped it into the crook of his arm and led his beautiful bride from the chapel and into the Great Hall.
They would feast and celebrate-the court had been waiting eagerly for this opportunity-and as soon as possible, Gavin would whisk Madelyne away to what was now the chamber they shared. He'd informed the king in no uncertain terms that there would be no bedding ceremony. "The sheets may be inspected in the morn, but I will not have Madelyne subjected to disrobing in the presence of anyone but myself or her maid. "
The king chortled at his man's vehement comment, but acquiesced. "If I did not know better, Gavin, I should think you were well and truly smitten with the nun. Nevertheless, it will be as you say: no bedding ceremony. . . presuming you can abscond from the celebration in secret. I will not be responsible for the overzealous actions of your men and peers should they follow you!"
Gavin had agreed-he'd received more support from his king than expected-and now, as he sat next to his new bride at the high table, he had difficulty keeping his thoughts on the conversation he shared with Eleanor. When Madelyne had appeared to join him at the altar, he'd felt as though someone had slammed him in the stomach.
She wore a pearlescent gown of fabric that shimmered when she moved-the likes of which he'd never seen before. The undergown and over-tunic were cut of the same cloth, and both fitted to her body in a manner quite unbecoming a nun.
But she was no longer a nun.
Yet, Madelyne's garb was simple in its cut, and decoration. It was the fabric that made her look like a moon goddess, with her fair, serene face, pale pink lips, and long, glossy strands of hair the color of the blackest of nights that hung past her waist. A thin circlet of silver rested about the crown of her head, ineffective for holding her thick tresses in place, but perfect as a simple adornment that framed her face. A large pearl drop hung from the center of her forehead, suspended from the circlet, and long ropes of blue-white pearls wound around her neck and swung to the girtle made from silver links.
Gavin had never seen her hair completely unbound, and now, as it curled at the tips, falling over her shoulder as she bent to eat, he reached to touch one thick lock. He lifted it, feeling its weight, and wondered how soon they could leave the dinner.
He sipped at his wine and continued his conversation with Eleanor, even as he watched his wife chat with the king, who sat on the other side of her. Observing her, he could not believe that only one moon earlier, she'd been a shy, naive nun ensconced in a cloistered abbey. Today, she spoke more confidently, moved with more sureness, and most certainly was the most stunning woman he'd ever seen.
And she was his.
That was enough. Gavin rose from his seat, leaned to kiss Eleanor's hand, and said, "Your majesty, I have greatly enjoyed your presence. . . but I am off to enjoy my wife now. I must have you know that I am most indebted to you for urging me in that direction. "
Eleanor smiled slyly and squeezed his arm. "You are quite deserving of that prize. . . and I am shocked that you lasted as long at dinner as you have!"
Leaning toward Madelyne, he whispered in her ear, "I bid you excuse yourself, madame, and have Clem escort you to our chamber. I will join you very shortly. I have had enough of this prattering and wish to have you to myself. "
Her large, wide eyes turned to look up at him in surprise, but Madelyne did as she was bid. Gavin assisted her in bringing the bulk of her skirts from around the chair on which she sat, and, gesturing to Clem, sent her off in the right direction.
Now, the trick would be for Gavin to disappear without the revelers noticing and following him to insist upon the bedding ceremony. It was his plan to be well gone before any of them noticed.
Tricky awaited her mistress in the chamber, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with excitement. "There has never been a more beautiful bride, I vow," she gushed, helping Madelyne from her over-tunic. She unlaced the sides of her undergown and pulled it over her head, leaving her mistress clad in only a light chemise.
"The man is mad for you," Tricky continued as she helped her disrobe from the shift and then slip into a cream-colored slip of the lightest, finest linen cloth. "Would that Clem has come to his senses by now, but it appears that he is a bit more thick-headed than your Gavin. "