Warmth streamed through her, as, soft lip to soft lip, they pressed together. . . breathed together. . . sighed together. Madelyne's lips curved in a gentle smile under his. Tricky had been right.
"Do you find my kisses amusing?" asked Gavin, pulling back just far enough to look into her eyes-and for her to see the faint amusement in his own. Beautiful, dark eyes in which she felt like drowning, they were. . . . unshuttered and open with emotion, soft and bathed in a gentle light. This was a Gavin she'd not seen before.
She stepped back, her fingers remaining clasped in his rough hands. "Nay, 'tis not you whom I find amusing, but my maidservant. . . and her unerring wisdom. "
"Tricky?" He sat on the bench and gently tugged her to sit beside him. The sides of their bodies touched, and he transferred both of her hands into one of his large ones. With the free hand, he reached to touch a tiny wisp of hair-one she'd not even felt escape from her coiffure-and smooth it back over the top of her head. "What is her unerring wisdom?"
Madelyne leaned slightly into his hand as it slid from the crown of her head to cup the side of her face. She would not tell him all-she must keep some secrets-but some little hint might be amusing. "My maid is determined that she will wed with your man. "
Gavin, his face relaxed from its familiar sharp planes into an almost handsome appearance, reached to pluck a daisy from behind her. "That is no secret she has an eye for Jube. . . though I would be well-surprised should he decide to wed, as his favorite past-time is to chase light-o-skirts. " He offered her the flower.
She took the daisy, brought it to her nose, then looked up at him from behind the petals, suddenly filled with joy. . . and something else, deep and warm and unfurling inside her. As if recognizing her feelings, his eyes darkened. His lips parted as he leaned toward her, pushing the flower from his path.
"Nay," she smiled under his mouth, "'tis not Jube but Clem that she will wed. " She kissed him back, now, reveling in how simple it had all become. She loved him and they would wed and they would kiss like this every day.
A shiver of comprehension flitted through her. So this was love, she thought, pressing her mouth to his, feeling his hands as they came around her body to pull her close-as their breaths joined, mingling with their mouths and mixing with their sighs.
"Clem?" he said, pulling back as though the words had just made their way to his consciousness. "Never. He cannot stand the sight of her. "
Madelyne looked at him, as sure now that Tricky would have her man as she'd been certain she would not. "Aye, my lord Gavin, they will wed. . . for Tricky has a faultless way of knowing. "
"And what would that be?"
"I would not tell you that. Just mark my words and when you learn that I'm right, you may beg my forgiveness for disbelieving me. " She allowed herself one of her rare, capricious smiles and was rewarded by an expression of pure desire-there was no mistaking it-that washed over Gavin's face.
"Madelyne," he whispered, pulling her to his chest; not to kiss her, but to hold her ear to his heartbeat, "have I told you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen?"
His arms around her, gathering her to him, her head settled under his chin, and her own hands splayed over his muscular back, Madelyne felt a security that she'd never felt before. She closed her eyes and smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The news spread like wildfire through the court: Gavin Mal Verne was to wed again, and to the shy little nun who was his sworn enemy's daughter.
Reginald D'Orrais took his loss with self-deprecating grace, which found him favor with the ladies. And his slightly injured air-a sensitivity attributed to his broken heart-only garnered him more favor with them.
"He appears to be recovering quite well," Judith commented to Madelyne as she surveyed her friend-soon to be her cousin-by-marriage-in the gown she would wear for her wedding on the morrow. "Maddie, you look stunning! Gavin will be unable to catch his breath when he sees you!"
Madelyne peered at herself in the polished mirror that Judith kept in the corner of her chamber. "Did Nicola look beautiful on their wedding day?" she asked. She had been fighting the curiosity for days-weeks, really, since her arrival at Mal Verne-and now she felt she had the right to know what had happened to Gavin's first wife. Judith would know, and would tell her the unvarnished truth. . . and she would live with whatever it was she learned about her husband.
"She was beautiful, aye, in a brittle, golden sort of way. . . while you, Maddie. . . you are the cool, sensual, exquisite moon to her brassy, harsh sun. "
"What happened to her, Judith? I have the right to know now that I am to wed with Gavin. All that I have been told is that she took a lover. . . and that she died on the eve she went to go to him. "
Judith settled back on her stool, looking at her in surprise. "You do not know the whole of it then. " Her greenish-brown eyes scanned Madelyne, and what she saw there must have convinced her to speak the truth. "Her lover was your father, Maddie. "
Madelyne could not contain a gasp, and she felt the warmth drain from her face, leaving it cold and pale. "My father? But. . . my father is mad!"
Judith took her hands into her warm ones. "Aye. He is mad. But betimes he was a great favorite of the court-at the least, for those who did not know him well. I know from your own words that he laid a heavy hand to you and your mother. . . and that the smile he bestowed upon the ladies hid only the poison behind it. He spoke of his work with such fervor that he was praised by all-even the priests.
"Work?" Madelyne felt a crawling in her belly. "Aye. . . his work in that below-ground chamber. . . . I knew only that it was a dark, frightening place. . . but I do not know what work he did that would have caused praise from the priests. "
"Aye, you must have been too young to understand. . . . Your father is an alchemist, in search of the Holy Grail-the Philosopher's Stone. . . which he believes will give him everlasting life. He claims that through his devotion to Mary Magdalen a vision was made known to him in which God revealed the secret of the Holy Grail. He even believes that the saint's own blood runs in his veins!"
"My father? A holy man? Never. . . nay, my God would not reward him thus. 'Tis just the proof that he is mad. How is it that you know so much of my father. . . and yet I know so little?" Madelyne tried to pull the threads of her whirling thoughts together.
"Gregory was my betrothed, the one I was contracted to since birth. He was a boy I'd grown up with. He'd fostered at my father's house, as had Gavin, and they were friends-although Gavin was the elder by three years. My Gregory made a foolish decision and became swayed by the fantasies of your father, and he tempted Gregory to his side with promises of immortality and power. The same as he has done with many a man. And when they beseiged a keep that belonged to Gavin, a great battle ensued. . . and in the course of which, Gavin struck down Gregory. "
"Oh, nay!" Madelyne sank onto Judith's bed. "Gavin killed your betrothed! Judith, I am so sorry. . . . "