A Lily on the Heath (Medieval Herb Garden 4)

“Very good,” she said, and turned toward the keep. “Pray, I beg your leave. I must needs return. The queen awaits me. ”

Mal stared after her, very nearly as stunned as if she’d thwacked him aside the head with a log. Not only had she not required him to engage in an overlong conversation, but she’d not made one jest about the condition of his tunic sleeve. And she’d called him Warwick.

Warwick instead of Malcolm…or even my lord.

Judith wasn’t lying when she told Malcolm the queen awaited. Eleanor did expect her attendance—but not for another hour.

In truth, it was the unexpected sight of him that set Judith’s thoughts to scattering…and then converging into one desire: escape. She didn’t want to talk with him, didn’t want to be tempted into jesting or teasing him as she had done in the past. She wasn’t even certain she was capable of doing so any longer. At least not now.

Two weeks of warming the king’s bed had become a heavy burden. The late nights. The secrecy. The mixed feelings, the confusing emotions. The dull, ugly scraping in her belly every time a knock came to her chamber door or a page approached. And Henry’s obsession with her seemed not to have waned in the least.

Last eve, he’d even insisted she sit at the high table—next to him. Fortunately, inviting a peer to join him and the queen and archbishop at the dais wasn’t an unusual occurrence. But Judith had hardly been able to choke her food down a throat dry as sawdust. Particularly when the king rested his hand on her thigh…and elsewhere…during the meal.

Pray God the queen hadn’t noticed. Nor anyone else.

When she came upon Malcolm unexpectedly, Judith surprised herself when her heart gave a great, happy surge. But almost immediately, the warmth evaporated. Yet, he was a sight for sorely weary eyes: tall and broad, confidence exuding from his very stance. His too-long hair, the color of walnuts, might even have been trimmed since she last saw him—for it hardly brushed past his jaw. But he hadn’t shaved this day, and he was dusty and grimy from riding and fighting. Still, her heart had made that great leap.

And now she rushed back into the keep, wondering why he mattered so much.

When Judith arrived at the queen’s solar less than an hour later, she found her mistress in a fine fettle.

The other ladies in waiting were gathered in the chamber, seated on hassocks or chairs, embroidering and gossiping as usual. Some were eating, others had their attention on the queen attempting to amuse her, and Lady Amice plucked at a lute in the corner. Judith smiled briefly at Maris of Ludingdon, who’d arrived only two days earlier with her infant son and had settled in with the court as if she’d never left it. But Eleanor, still slender and quick despite the rounding belly showing beneath her gown, was pacing while gesticulating energetically.

“Judith! What has kept you!” she said as Judith stepped across the threshold. “You are late!”

“My apologies, my lady,” she said, sweeping into a curtsy. She was not late, but one did not argue with the queen, and most particularly when she was in this state of mind. “I brought you a bit of a nosegay to brighten your chambers. ”

She offered a small bouquet of sweet-scented orange lilies with black and yellow spots, picked at the last minute from the herb garden. Eleanor glanced at the flowers then flapped her hand at one of the pages. “See to them. ”

Judith relinquished the nosegay and rose from her curtsy. “How may I serve you this day, my lady? Shall I peel an apple for you? Or mayhap you wish to—”

“Nay, nay,” Eleanor said, still swirling about. Her graceful hands clasped and unclasped in agitation. “I am not hungry. ”

“The party who went after the brigands has returned,” Judith suggested. “Mayhap Lady Maris has some news? Was not your husband in the group?” She turned her attention to the other lady, who was one of the more level-headed—if not blunt—women who gathered around the queen.

“I did not know they’ve returned,” said Maris. Her eyes lit with pleasure. “But with her majesty’s permission, I shall take my Rogan to see his papa—and to hear any news. ” Before the queen responded, the woman was on her feet, preparing to leave.

“Nay, pray, stay you one moment,” said Eleanor, at last ceasing her incessant pacing. “For there is one thing you may take with you. ”

“Of course, your majesty,” Maris said, pausing next to Judith.

“You may take this lying, cock-licking, backstabbing slut of a bitch from my sight!” Eleanor erupted. And before Judith realized what she said, the queen lashed out, striking her sharply across the cheek.

The blow sent Judith reeling as every occupant of the chamber gasped. She nearly tumbled to the floor, bumping into Maris, who caught her as she went off-balance.

“Get out!” shrieked the queen. “Get out of my sight!”

Holding a hand to her throbbing cheek, Judith straightened with as much dignity as she could manage. “Your majesty,” she began, looking directly at the queen. Fighting back tears, struggling to keep her voice steady, she said, “Whatever you may think of me, please know I regret hurting you from the bottom of my heart. ”

“Get you out of my sight!” Eleanor cried. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes glassy with madness. Her movements were frenetic, near insanity.

“My lady, the babe,” Maris said, turning to the queen. “Have a care for the babe. ” She tried to soothe the woman, casting Judith a pointed glance.

Judith turned and, removing her hand—which was wet with blood—from her cheek, walked toward the door. It seemed to take forever; every step seemed to draw her further away from the exit rather than toward it. Her eyes stung, her insides were in turmoil. The ugly gnawing in her belly was back with a vengeance, threatening to empty its contents at any moment.

At last, she was out of the chamber. The doors closed behind her and, stunned, hurt and heartsore, Judith made her way back to her chamber.

“Oh, my lady!” cried Tabby when she opened the chamber door and saw Judith’s face. “What has befallen you?”