Gavin opened his eyes, and when he did, she saw a steely resolve glinting there in the moonlight. He dropped his hand from her face and stepped back. "I apologize if I have made you uneasy, my lady. I cannot seem to keep myself. . . in check. . . when I am with you. " He gave a little, impersonal bow that made her want to stamp her foot in frustration.
What was wrong with him-with her-with this whole situation?
Madelyne drew her brows together and clutched her skirts with both hands. "Gavin, you've done naught for which you need apologize-at least, tonight, here, now. I may be a naive, shy woman who is not learned in the ways of the court, but the barest touch of a man is not about to cause me to turn tail and hie back to the castle screaming rape. I know to expect much more than that on the night in which I find myself wedded and bedded.
"You may escort me to my chambers now, my lord. " She pushed past him, purposely brushing against his rigid arm because her patience had been lost and she didn't understand why she felt so frustrated and disappointed.
Chapter Eighteen
The morning air hung damp with dew and alight with the risen sun. Gavin breathed deeply as Rule trotted across the drawbridge toward the forest. Once past the guards at the entryway, he gave the horse his head and the stallion leapt into fluid motion.
Hooves pounded and the fresh air blasted into his face as Gavin urged his mount on. Over a creek and around the bend of a pathway they flew, startling pheasants and gray hares from their hideaways. His bow and quiver hung over his shoulder, but he was not yet ready to put them to use. For now, he needed to ride. . . to put distance between himself and Whitehall and all that it held.
He rode at breakneck speed, but it was not enough to put the images from his mind. He'd nearly kissed her last night. He'd wanted to touch her and he had. . . but it had taken every bit of restraint to keep himself from pulling her to him and into his arms.
How could he dream of touching her when he knew she preferred a life with the Lord. . . and certainly would not relish a life with the man who'd taken that right from her. Madelyne deserved better than a man who lived only to kill, who dreamed only of violence upon another. . . who could not fathom a life without the need for vengeance.
He would never marry again. He'd remain alone, wreak his punishment upon Fantin, and then retire to Mal Verne to live until the king would call him to arms again. And thus and so it would be until he was too reckless and was himself killed.
And Madelyne. . . .
Gavin pulled back on the reins. Rule trotted to a halt and they stood, silent and still in the wood that was devoid of birds singing and the crackle of animal movement. Silent and still, it surrounded him and closed his thoughts in upon him as he slipped his fingers into the pouch that carried the rose prayer beads.
Madelyne would find herself wed anon-as soon as he could find a suitable husband for her and the king gave his blessing. She would wed and bed him, as she so bluntly reminded him last night. Gavin's heart iced over as the images formed in his mind: of the apprehension that would be on her face, of large hands on her pale body, loosening her hair so that it fell to her hips, of a heavy figure poised over hers. . . of Madelyne kneeling in abject prayer on a stone floor-sobbing. His hands trembled on the reins.
If he did nothing more, he would make certain to select a man who would be gentle with her-one who would not destroy her serenity or her peace. One who would have sensitivity for the woman who would be a nun.
He cursed Henry for burdening him with this mission.
And then he cursed himself for creating it.
"Do you hunt with us on the morrow, Lady Madelyne?"
"Nay, Lord Reginald. I do not ride," she told him. "I had no opportunity to learn at the abbey. . . and, in sooth, I do not care for horses. They make me nervous. "
He smiled kindly at her, covering her hand with his. "Lady Madelyne, I can understand that. Horses can seem like fearsome creatures. . . but in truth they are not. They need a gentle hand and can be as tame as a kitten. "
She looked at him with skepticism. "Aye, as you say. I will choose to believe you, but will remain admiring horses only from a distance. "
Reginald chuckled and tightened his fingers over hers. Madelyne gently pulled away from his grasp under the guise of raising her goblet to drink. She didn't know how to feel about his overt attention, and was even less certain how to act when he flirted with her.
Lady Artemis sallied over and found a seat next to Reginald. Madelyne greeted her politely, but held her breath as she waited to see whether the cat's claws were extended. "Good evening, Lord Reginald. We have missed your presence in the queen's court as of late. Will you be hunting with us on the morrow?"
If Madelyne had felt any sort of possessiveness toward Reginald, she would have felt the hair at her nape rise as Artemis looped her hand around his arm. As it was, she took notice, but had no reaction-likely to the other lady's dismay.
He glanced at Madelyne. "I have not yet decided. "
Artemis raised a black eyebrow into a dark slash. "And you, Lady Madelyne? I should love to see you ride. "
"Nay. I do not ride, Lady Artemis, as you may have surmised. " Meeting the double-edged comment with acknowledgement of its slice was her only defense at this time.
"Lord Gavin is a fine rider," Artemis added shrewdly. "He is known for his ease in the saddle. "
"Is that so?" Madelyne could not explain why the mere mention of the man should make her heart pick up speed. "Then I am sure he will be on the hunt. "
"I am sure he will. . . . " Artemis let her voice trail off as she looked pointedly across the room.
Madelyne followed her gaze and saw then the meaning of her words. Gavin sat, tete-a-tete, with the woman named Lady Therese: heads together, and bodies close enough that their shoulders brushed. As she watched, he tilted his head at something she said and gave as much of a smile-and a bark of laughter-as Madelyne had ever witnessed on his stoic face.