Gavin had agreed—he’d received more support from his king than expected—and now, as he sat next to his new bride at the high table, he had difficulty keeping his thoughts on the conversation he shared with Eleanor. When Madelyne had appeared to join him at the altar, he’d felt as though someone had slammed him in the stomach.
She wore a pearlescent gown of fabric that shimmered when she moved—the likes of which he’d never seen before. The undergown and over-tunic were cut of the same cloth, and both fitted to her body in a manner quite unbecoming a nun.
But she was no longer a nun.
Yet, Madelyne’s garb was simple in its cut, and decoration. It was the fabric that made her look like a moon goddess, with her fair, serene face, pale pink lips, and long, glossy strands of hair the color of the blackest of nights that hung past her waist. A thin circlet of silver rested about the crown of her head, ineffective for holding her thick tresses in place, but perfect as a simple adornment that framed her face. A large pearl drop hung from the center of her forehead, suspended from the circlet, and long ropes of blue-white pearls wound around her neck and swung to the girtle made from silver links.
Gavin had never seen her hair completely unbound, and now, as it curled at the tips, falling over her shoulder as she bent to eat, he reached to touch one thick lock. He lifted it, feeling its weight, and wondered how soon they could leave the dinner.
He sipped at his wine and continued his conversation with Eleanor, even as he watched his wife chat with the king, who sat on the other side of her. Observing her, he could not believe that only one moon earlier, she’d been a shy, naive nun ensconced in a cloistered abbey. Today, she spoke more confidently, moved with more sureness, and most certainly was the most stunning woman he’d ever seen.
And she was his.
That was enough. Gavin rose from his seat, leaned to kiss Eleanor’s hand, and said, “Your majesty, I have greatly enjoyed your presence…but I am off to enjoy my wife now. I must have you know that I am most indebted to you for urging me in that direction.”
Eleanor smiled slyly and squeezed his arm. “You are quite deserving of that prize…and I am shocked that you lasted as long at dinner as you have!”
Leaning toward Madelyne, he whispered in her ear, “I bid you excuse yourself, madame, and have Clem escort you to our chamber. I will join you very shortly. I have had enough of this prattering and wish to have you to myself.”
Her large, wide eyes turned to look up at him in surprise, but Madelyne did as she was bid. Gavin assisted her in bringing the bulk of her skirts from around the chair on which she sat, and, gesturing to Clem, sent her off in the right direction.
Now, the trick would be for Gavin to disappear without the revelers noticing and following him to insist upon the bedding ceremony. It was his plan to be well gone before any of them noticed.
Tricky awaited her mistress in the chamber, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with excitement. “There has never been a more beautiful bride, I vow,” she gushed, helping Madelyne from her over-tunic. She unlaced the sides of her undergown and pulled it over her head, leaving her mistress clad in only a light chemise.
“The man is mad for you,” Tricky continued as she helped her disrobe from the shift and then slip into a cream-colored slip of the lightest, finest linen cloth. “Would that Clem has come to his senses by now, but it appears that he is a bit more thick-headed than your Gavin.”
Your Gavin. Madelyne fixated on those words. He was, indeed, hers now, and the thought made her stomach curl and flutter as she thought of what was to come.
All too soon, Tricky finished brushing her hair and, with one last pat on the head, hurried from the room, leaving Madelyne to herself. But no sooner had Tricky gone than a soft knock came and the door opened.
Gavin slipped in and turned to close the door, bolting it immediately. “I believe I escaped without being detected…but there is always the chance that someone saw me.” He turned and froze when he saw her, standing next to the blazing fire.
“Madelyne…Lady Mal Verne…it is as if every time I see you, you grow more beautiful.” He stepped toward her, resting the weight of his hand on her cheek and then reaching to smooth it down the length of her hair. “Since the moment I met you, I needed to see you thus…with your hair loose. I craved for days to know even the color of your hair…and feared you’d shaven it at the abbey. Now…I wish to see you clothed only in those black locks.”
Warmth and anticipation skittered up her spine, and Madelyne felt the full impact of the effect she had upon the man who was now her husband. With a boldness she did not know she possessed—or how she came about it—she caught hold of her shift. Raising her hands above her head, lifting her unbound breasts under the chemise, and she felt the light linen scrape over them as she pulled the slip from her body.
When it fell to the floor beside her, she heard Gavin’s intake of breath and saw the darkness surge into his eyes. His gaze heavy and dark, he strode toward her and gathered her into his arms. Her naked body fit to him, all along the length of him, sensitive to the roughness of his own clothing, the rise and fall of his chest, and the hardness of his arousal pulsing between them.
They kissed wildly, as one of his large hands reached between them to hold the heaviness of her breast, and Madelyne’s bare feet settled atop Gavin’s booted ones. The mixture of sensation between the coarse fabric of his tunic and the soft sensuality of his mouth, along with the demanding strokes of his thumb over her stiff nipple, caused a great shiver to tremble along her spine. Something swelled and dampened pleasantly between her legs.
With a deep breath, Gavin set her away from him and stepped back, placing both hands on his hips as if to keep them in control. “I believe it only fair that we should be on equal standing,” he told her with a crooked half-smile. “Allow me to disrobe—if it please you, my lady—and we may commence with our desires then.”
“It pleases me to assist you,” she said, needing something to do, to focus on other than what was to happen.
She knelt at his feet, gathering her hair into a bundle and pushing it over one shoulder. Slowly, as the anticipation between them grew, she untied his boots, removing them from his feet. She unlaced his cross-garters, taking her time, sliding along the firm, muscled calves they enclosed. Madelyne felt the weight of his hand on the top of her head, and the firmness as his fingers tightened when she reached to pull down his chausses.
His legs now bare to her, Madelyne saw how thick and darkly-haired they were. She saw the ridges of muscle and the planes of his knees rising into massive thighs half-covered by his tunic. Heat pooled in her middle, sliding from her belly to the place between her legs, and she suddenly felt light-headed even as she reached to touch him.
As though sensing the effect he had on her, Gavin reached for her shoulder, lifting her gently from under the arm, so that she stood in front of him. “My tunic,” he said in a rasping voice, reaching with both hands to gather up her breasts in the moment before she moved.
She obeyed, helping him to pull it up and over, stepping close enough that the tips of her upthrust breasts brushed against his thin sherte . Gavin’s breath came faster, harsher now and he stepped back to yank the sherte from his shoulders—standing bare before her. His chest, broad and dusted with hair, rose and fell, rose and fell, and his bare, muscular arms hung, unmoving, from his defined shoulders.
Madelyne looked, saw that part of him that Peg promised would bring pleasure to her if she allowed it, and swallowed. Her dry throat constricted, grating in the silent room, and she stood still—unsure of what to do.