Sanctuary of Roses (Medieval Herb Garden 2)

Gavin shifted, and his face held a slight grimace. Good, she thought, 'tis right that he should feel some small discomfort after the result of his actions upon me. "'Tis the reason I have come to you," she told him. "May we walk from here-'tis so loud-to talk? I have something I must ask of you. "

He nodded. "Of course, my lady. " He extended his forearm and she slipped her hand under and around it, cupping the sinewy, firm muscles under her fingers. He was warm and solid as she bumped against him while he pushed the way through throngs of people, leading her out of the hall. "Shall we go out side of the keep, or would you prefer to find somewhere within? We cannot go to your chamber of course. "

She looked up, surprised and pleased that he should ask. "May we go outside? 'Tis been long since I have breathed the moon air. "

His eyes softened, then crinkled at the corners. "The moon air. Aye, of course. Let us be off. "

His pace was slower now that they were out of the hall and away from the people. Gavin brought her through the entry way and past the guards posted at doors as tall as three men. Their bodies were closer now, shoulders brushing as they walked-his stride long and smooth, mismatched against her shorter, faster one.

Once outside, Madelyne slipped from him and stood on the hard-packed dirt, turning her face up to the moon. It was only a sliver on this night, but the stars were many and the air was chill and crisp after the cloying, food-soaked, smoke-filled, sweaty space of the great hall. Her lips moved in a brief, silent prayer-one of thanks and admiration for this moment of beauty-then she turned back to Gavin.

He was there, arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning against the shadowy gray stone wall that stretched above him. He watched her, and her stomach lurched like a rusty drawbridge.

"What is it you wish to ask of me?" his voice carried easily to her, even over the sounds of busyness that surrounded them: the ever-present pages and squires, serfs and men-at-arms, going about their duties in the bailey.

"I. . . . " She stepped toward him, then stopped. Something hung there, palpable, yet enough to make her stomach squeeze again. "Lord Gavin, you said that the king has asked you to find me a husband. "

"Aye. Please do you not ask of me to disobey the command of the king. You must know that is the one thing I cannot-or will not-do for you. "

Her lips tightened. He did not know her at all. She'd thought that perhaps. . . . ah, she was foolish to think thus. "I would not ask that of you, Gavin. " Her throat dried as she realized she'd used his given name.

"Then what is it?" His voice became rougher.

"'Tis only that I ask that you. . . have no hurry to find a husband for me. . . and that you have a thought to select a man. . . who. . . . "

She did not know how to form the words. His stare was so

heavy upon her, so steady, that all coherent thought disintegrated. She could only look at him, into those penetrating gray eyes, clear and open there in the starlight. The world receded and there was nothing but a wide space between them-a space of dirt, and a more cavernous space of violence and bloodshed versus peace and hope.

"Who will. . . ?" He sounded annoyed, and he looked away, breaking the fragile connection. "Who will let you go back to the abbey? Who will not wish to beget an heir upon you? Who will what?"

Madelyne stepped back, straightening her posture. "Who will have some care for me. Who will not hurt me. Who will not order my every action, my every breath. " She pivoted from him, stalking away, her hands trembling and her eyes filling with wetness. She hated that her voice had broken at the end.

"Madelyne. "

She kept walking, ignoring her long skirts tangling about her feet, blinking rapidly, until the shout above stopped her.

"Who goes there?"

"'Tis Gavin Mal Verne. " His voice boomed behind her, up at the guard who looked down from the corner of the wall that surrounded the bailey. He was close to her now, and she stopped, turned to him, her face shadowed by the tall wall. She clutched her light wool skirts, crumpling the fabric up into her palms to keep her hands still.

"You may pass. " The permission wafted down from above, but neither Madelyne nor Gavin cared.

"Madelyne-"

"Please. " She held up her hand to him.

"Nay, I will speak. " Anger wavered in his voice. "Do you think that I would give you to the first man who asked? To a man who would hurt you? Foolish woman. Have I not done you enough damage already? At the least I owe you a husband who will be a better man than your father was. "

He passed a hand over his forehead, as though to wipe away the ire. "Madelyne, the reason you must wed is so that you can be safe from your father. He wants to take you back, and he'll keep trying-he tried in the wood, during your travel here, and he tried under the king's very nose! The king and I know that he is mad, that some religious fervor burns within him and he seeks to harm others-mayhap yourself. If naught else, he will be incensed that you were taken from him some years ago, and be most unwelcoming to you.

"I will find you a husband only because the king has ordered it. One who will protect you. . . who can protect you. And one who will be worthy of your lands-which will come to you when your father is gone. And one who will have some care for you. "

He stepped toward her, close enough that she could see the rise and fall of his chest and the movement in his cheek as he paused in his speech. When he spoke again, the words softened against her. "I do not believe it will be such a challenge to find one who will care for you-but more of a challenge to find the man worthy of keeping your father at bay. You are a lovely woman, Madelyne, and you will make a fine wife. "

She looked up at him and her heart nearly stopped when one of his large rough hands came to cup her chin, to slide slowly over the side of her face and throat. The memory of the kiss they'd shared blazed into her and she stepped toward him, into his hand, and felt the firmness of his fingers as they closed gently around her jaw. They touched her hair, at the back of her neck, and an amazing shiver coiled around her ear and down the side of her neck.

"Madelyne, you tempt me so. . . . " he said in a taut voice, closing his eyes. She did not move, just felt the trembling of his hand on her jaw, cupping around the nape of her neck as the rest of the world moved beyond them.