The Velvet Promise (Montgomery/Taggert 2)

“Yes,” Maud said. “He is a proud one. As proud as all those Montgomery men. They act as if they own the world.”

“I wish they did,” Joan giggled, then rolled her eyes at Maud, who tried hard not to laugh with her.

But Maud was more interested in her mistress, and for all their teasing, Judith had not given even a hint of a smile. Maud held her hand, signaling Joan to be silent. “My lady,” she said quietly, “is there anything you wish? There is time before you leave for the church. Perhaps—”

Judith shook her head. “I am past help now. Is my mother well?”

“Yes, she is resting before she must ride to the church. It is a long distance and her arm—” Maud stopped, sensitive to her mistress’s look of pain. Judith blamed herself for Helen’s broken arm. Her own conscience was enough without Maud’s clumsy reminders. Maud could have kicked herself. “You are ready, then?” she asked gently.

“My body is ready. It’s just my thoughts that need more time. Would you and Joan see to my mother?”

“But my lady—”

“No,” Judith interrupted. “I would like to be alone. It may be my last moment of privacy for some time. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?” She looked back toward the window.

Joan started to reply to her melancholy mistress’s words, but Maud stopped her. Joan could not understand Judith. She was rich, this was her wedding day and, best of all, her husband was a young and handsome knight. Why was she not happy? Joan shrugged her shoulders in dismissal as Maud pushed her through the doorway.

For weeks the preparations for Judith’s wedding had been taking place. It was to be a sumptuous and elaborate affair, and would cost her father a year’s rents. She had kept the books for every purchase, noting the thousands of ells of cloth to be used for the massive canopies to shelter the guests, totaling the food to be served; a thousand pigs, three hundred calves, a hundred oxen, four thousand venison pasties, three hundred tuns of ale. On and on the lists went.

And all for something she desperately did not want.

Most girls were reared to think of marriage as part of their future, but not Judith. From the day of her birth, Judith had been treated differently. Her mother had been worn out from miscarriages and years spent with a husband who beat her at every opportunity when finally her daughter was born. Helen looked at the tiny bit of red-haired life and lost her heart to it. Whereas she never fought her husband, for this child she would risk hell. She wanted two things for her little Judith: protection for her against a brutal and violent father, and guaranteed protection from all such men for all Judith’s life.

For the first time in her many years of marriage, Helen stood up to the husband she feared so much. She demanded of him that her daughter be given to the church. Robert couldn’t have cared less what was done with the girl or her mother. What did a daughter matter to him? He had his sons from his first wife, and all this groveling, mewling creature could produce were dead babies and one worthless daughter. He laughed and agreed to allow the girl to go to the nuns when she was of age. But to show that sniveling creature who was his wife what he thought of her demands, he tossed her down the stone stairs. Helen still limped from where her leg had been broken in two places from that fall, but it had all been worth it. She kept her daughter to her in complete privacy. There were times when Helen might not have remembered she was married. She liked to think of herself as a widow, living alone with her lovely daughter.

They were happy years. She trained her daughter for the demanding career of a nun.

And now it was all to be thrown away. Judith was to become a wife: a woman who had no power other than what was given to her by her husband and ruler. Judith knew nothing about being a wife. She sewed poorly and knit not at all. She did not know how to sit quietly for hours, allowing her servants to work for her. But worst of all, Judith did not even know the meaning of subservience. A wife must keep her eyes lowered to her husband, must take his advice in all things; but Judith had been taught that she would one day be a prioress, the only woman considered to be an equal by men. Judith had looked at her father and brothers with level eyes, never flinching even when her father raised his fist at her, and for some reason this seemed to amuse Robert. She had a pride that was uncommon in women—or even in most men, for that matter. She walked with her shoulders back, her spine straight.

No man would tolerate her quiet, even voice which discussed the relationship of the king to the French or talked of her own radical views as to the treatment of the serfs. Women were supposed to talk of jewels and adornments. Judith was often content to let her maids choose her clothing; but let two bushels of lentils be missing from the storehouses, and Judith’s wrath was formidable.

Helen had gone to great pains to keep her daughter hidden from the outside world. She was afraid that some man might see her and want her and Robert would agree to the match. Then her daughter would be taken from her. Judith should have entered the convent when she was twelve, but Helen could not bear to part with her. Year after year she’d selfishly kept her daughter near her, only to have all the time and training come to nothing.

Judith had had months to prepare herself for marriage with a stranger. She had not seen him, nor did she care to. She knew she’d see enough of him in the future. She had known no men besides her father and brothers and therefore anticipated a life spent with a man who hated women, who beat them, who was uneducated and unable to learn anything except how to use his strength. Always she’d planned to escape such an existence, now she knew it was not to be. In ten years’ time would she b

e like her mother: shaking, eyes shifting from side to side, always afraid?

Judith stood, the heavy gold gown falling to the floor, rustling prettily. She would not! Never would she show her fear to him; no matter what she felt, she would hold her head high and look him straight in the eye.

For a moment, she felt her shoulders droop. She was frightened of this stranger who was to be her lord and master. Her maids laughed and talked of their lovers with joy. Could the marriage of a nobleman be like that? Was a man capable of love and tenderness, just as a woman was? She would know in a short while. She straightened her shoulders again. She would give him a chance, Judith vowed silently. She would be a mirror of him. If he were kind, she would be kind. But if he were like her father, then she would give as good as she got. No man had ever ruled her and none ever would. Judith made that a vow also.

“My lady!” Joan called excitedly as she burst into the room. “Sir Raine and his brother Sir Miles are outside. They’ve come to see you.” Joan gave her mistress a look of exasperation when Judith stared at her maid blankly. “They are your husband’s brothers. Sir Raine wants to meet you before the wedding.”

Judith nodded and stood to greet the visitors. The man she was to marry showed no interest in her; even the betrothal was done by proxy, and now it was not him but his brothers who came to greet her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to stop trembling. She was more scared than she realized.

Raine and Miles walked down the broad spiral stairs of the Revedoune house side by side. They had arrived only last night; Gavin had postponed facing his forthcoming marriage for as long as possible. Raine tried to get his older brother to meet his bride, but he refused. He said he would see her for years to come—why start the curse early?

When Miles had returned from his duty of proxy at the engagement, Raine had been the one to question him about the heiress. As usual, Miles said little, but Raine knew he was hiding something. Now that Raine had seen Judith, he knew what it was.

“Why didn’t you tell Gavin?” Raine asked. “You know he’s dreaded what he calls his ugly heiress.”

Miles did not smile, but his eyes glowed in memory of the vision of his sister-in-law. “I thought perhaps it would do him some good to be wrong for once.”

Raine smothered his laughter. Gavin sometimes treated his youngest brother as if he were a boy instead of a twenty-year-old man. Miles’s silence in not telling Gavin of his fiancée’s beauty was one small punishment for all the times Gavin had ordered his little brother about. Raine gave a short laugh. “To think Gavin offered her to me and I didn’t even try! If I had seen her, I would have fought him for her. Do you think it’s too late?”

If Miles answered, Raine didn’t hear him. His thoughts were elsewhere as he remembered his first sight of his little sister-in-law, whose head hardly reached his shoulder. He saw that only before he was close enough to see her face. After one look at her eyes, as pure and rich a gold as any from the Holy Land, he saw nothing else. Judith Revedoune had looked up at him with intelligence, evenly, as if she were assessing him. Raine had merely stared, unable to speak as he felt himself being pulled under by the current of those eyes. She did not simper or giggle like most young maidens, she met him as an equal. He found the sensation heady. Miles had to nudge Raine to make him speak to her. Raine never heard a word anyone said, but merely stood and stared. He had a vision of carrying her away from this house and these people, of making her his. He knew he must leave before he had other such indecent thoughts of his brother’s wife.

“Miles,” he said now, his dimples cutting deeply into his cheeks, as they always did when he tried not to laugh aloud, “perhaps we can both repay our elder brother for demanding too many hours on the training field.”