“Not so fast,” he muttered, sliding a hand between her thighs. She was warm and full and moist, and though it didn’t seem possible, he grew harder. Her breasts, dusted with golden and amber freckles, were lovely in full daylight, and he took his time kissing and sucking on pert nipples, teasing them with his tongue until they were tight and sharp. Judith curled her fingers into his hair as if to keep him in position, making delicious little panting moans and shifting her hips as if impatient for him to join with her.
And though he fully intended to give her much more attention, before he knew it she was guiding him between her legs and he was thrusting home. She writhed and moaned beneath him, shifting and shuddering. Just as he groaned out his release, there was an imperious knock on the door.
Praise God, he thought, peeling open his eyes after the passionate storm had waned. Judith was already scrambling away from him, for the peremptory knock had continued.
“It cannot be Tabby,” she muttered, reaching for a blanket to wrap about herself. “She wouldn’t dare—”
“Open the door in the name of the queen!” demanded a voice from the other side.
Malcolm sprang from the bed at that, the rest of his pleasure whisked away like the blanket Judith had just pulled. “I will answer it,” he told her, grabbing a wad of cloth to hold in front of him for basic modesty as he brushed past her to the door. He caught a glimpse of her expression, pinched and pale, and wondered whether it was due to their visitor…or to their morning activities. She’d leapt away and out of bed so quickly he hadn’t been able to see whether she’d cried this time or nay.
Ignoring those thoughts for now, he opened the door. “Is there a message from the queen?” he demanded of the page who stood there with one of the queen’s men-at-arms. Behind them was the maid Tabatha, who looked terrified. It could have been because of the interruption—for fear she would take the blame—or because of Mal himself: large, naked, and furious.
“Aye. Lady Judith of Kentworth is required to attend her majesty the queen immediately. I shall escort her,” said the man. He looked at Mal and an uneasy expression filtered over his face, for Mal took no pains to hide his feelings about his wife being summoned from her marriage bed to attend the woman who’d fairly tortured her.
“I shall escort her,” Malcolm told him coolly. “As her majesty surely knows, you have interrupted our wedding night and we have not yet risen nor broken our fast. Pray give my honor and good wishes to the queen and inform her I shall bring my wife to her within the half hour.”
“Aye,” replied the man-at-arms, his eyes darting from Mal to the chamber behind him, then back again to the livid man in the doorway. “I shall bring the message.”
Malcolm would have slammed the door to punctuate his opinion of the man but for Tabatha, who looked as if she would prefer to be cowering in a corner. “You. Your lady will be in need of you anon. Go find aught to break our fast, and call for my squire. He must attend me at once.”
“Aye, my lord,” she whispered, and hurried off.
When Mal closed the door and turned back to the chamber, he found Judith looking at him with wide eyes and raised brows. “Well, then, my lord,” she said, still holding the blanket. Despite her demure position, her words were tart. “If you continue to speak to my maid in that manner, you will frighten her to death—or at the least, cause her to fear being in your presence. And that will make me quite unhappy, for ’tis no easy task to find a competent, trustworthy tiring woman who doesn’t faint when encountering her lord.”
Mal glowered at her, but gave a brief nod. “Very well.” His attention slipped to her long, loose hair, falling nearly to her waist, the curve of her collarbone and the mounds of her breasts, only half-hidden by her wrap. Mine. He drew in a deep breath. “You heard the summons?”
“Aye,” she replied, her shoulders and arms tensing. “And that you will accompany me. Thank you, my lord.”
“Malcolm,” he said, his voice tight. “I am Malcolm to you when we are private.”
“Very well, Malcolm,” she replied, and her mouth seemed to relax, almost smiling.
There was a knock again—this one easier and less demanding. But he went to it, flinging the door open to find Tabatha standing there. She squeaked, but collected herself and gave a brief bow. “I have aught to break your fast,” she said as he saw Gambert behind her. “Your squire had already anticipated your needs, and I came upon him on my way to the kitchen,” she added, gesturing to the bundle he carried.
“Very good. Gambert, wait in the antechamber whilst my lady is dressed,” Mal told him, stepping aside for Tabatha to move past him into the main chamber. He closed the door after her and took the food from Gambert. “Now. Go you and speak to Nevril. Lady Judith and I will be leaving Clarendon as quickly as possible. Have the maid pack what my lady will need immediately, and send for her master-at-arms. Some of you will come with us, and the maid and others will follow with all of her trunks.”
The sooner we quit this place, the happier I’ll be.
The heavy double doors to the queen’s chamber loomed in front of Judith like a hangman’s scaffold. As they approached, the two men-at-arms who guarded the entrance drew them wide.
She drew in a deep breath and willed her palms to stay dry and her knees strong and sturdy. Malcolm’s solid presence behind gave her support as she walked over the threshold into Eleanor’s chamber.
“Your majesty,” Judith said, sweeping into a curtsy. Mal bowed to the queen, but even Judith, who could not see him as he was slightly behind her, could sense the underlying insolence in his gesture.
“My lady queen,” he said as he straightened.
“I did not expect to see you, Warwick,” said Eleanor. Her voice was frosty, and the chill was echoed in her posture and expression. “I called for Judith to attend me. Not her husband.” She fairly spat the last word.
The queen sat on a large chair at one end of the chamber, which, as Judith took a moment to notice, had no other occupants. A wriggle of nervousness clutched her belly as she recalled the last time she’d been called privately to the queen’s presence.
“I thought it expedient that I escort her to your chambers. To ensure she didn’t lose her way, or be otherwise circumvented.” Malcolm’s voice was supremely polite and sincere.
“Excellent thinking, Warwick,” the queen replied. “And now that you have completed your mission, you may leave us.”
“Under the circumstances, my lady, I would prefer to remain present,” Malcolm said, shocking Judith so that she hardly contained a gasp at his audacity. He moved to stand very near her, his hand resting possessively on her shoulder.
“You may wait outside,” Eleanor said, her voice steely. “What I have to say to your wife is for her ears only. But do not fear. She will be returned to you momentarily, and intact.”
Malcolm looked at Judith, and she read question in his eyes. He would stay if she wanted him to, disobeying the queen—and that knowledge made her heart swell large and full inside her. “I would hear what the queen desires to say,” she told him. “If you would wait without, I will come to you when we are finished.”
“Very well, my lady,” he said, bowing first to Judith, and only then to the queen in another show of power. He turned smoothly and strode from the chamber, closing the door behind him.
“If he was not such a close friend of Ludingdon and Mal Verne, I would have him jailed for such insolence,” Eleanor said when Judith returned her attention to the queen. “For more than one reason.” Her eyes were sharp with banked fury, yet Judith, who knew the queen as well as anyone, saw a deeply buried vulnerability. She felt a pang of guilt, for she knew that, at least in part, she had caused some of that pain.
“What did you wish to say to me, my lady?” she asked, wanting to finish the interview as quickly as possible.
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. At first, she didn’t speak, but after a long moment of looking at Judith with that cold gaze, she said, “I see that you’ve healed from your illness. Just in time to wed.”
Judith kept her expression blank as she replied, “Aye, my lady. Nearly all of the marks are gone from my skin.”
“How fortuitous.” Once again, the queen waited before speaking. Then when she did, her voice was filled with venom. “So you have chosen to marry. To bond yourself to a man. To become his chatelaine, his servant, his property. Do you love him, or is it that you wish merely to be quit of this court? To make an escape?”
Judith swallowed but remained silent. Did the queen truly believe she’d give her more ammunition for her vengeance?
“You will answer me, and truthfully, Judith,” commanded the queen.
“He seems a good man. And I have come to miss Lilyfare very much. It has been more than five years since I have seen it.”
“Pish. How long do you think it’s been since I have been to Aquitaine or Poitiers? The lands will always be there—and you have a good steward. But…you and Warwick. Methinks you have some affection for him. And some day you will regret accepting his offer, selling yourself to him. Mayhap sooner rather than later.”
The queen stood and began to pace with short, hard, rapid steps. “If I could have remained unwed, I should have done so. But nay—I was married to a prude of a man, a living saint who sought to impose his own piety on me and all in his court. Then, rather than being abducted and forced to wed a man I could not stomach, I chose my second husband. Now I am tied to him who I once loved and trusted—and who has shown me little regard in the last years. Despite the fact that I brought him wealth and power, and that I bear his children, and help him rule his lands. This will be my last child with him,” Eleanor said fiercely, cupping her round belly. “He will not find my bed again. Henry has betrayed me for the last time.”
Much of what Eleanor said, Judith knew, was spoken in anger and hurt—for Henry had always treated his queen with respect and listened to her advice and thoughts—at least in relation to his rule. She acted as chancellor for him whenever he was absent. But the king’s regard, Judith realized with a sharp pang of guilt, was not extended when it came to affection and love. Mayhap the king appreciated his queen for her lands and her astuteness in managing them as well as his own, but he did not show her his love and respect in the bedchamber.