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Mal nearly turned to go, silent as he’d come—all at once certain he did not have the strength to become ingrained in whatever this was and yet escape intact. Yet his feet once more refused to listen to logic and he found himself approaching her.
Though he knew how to move silently, he must have made some sound to give himself away, for Judith whirled sharply when he came near. “Tab—” she began, clearly expecting her maid. Her expression when she first turned was furious, then it changed into one of shock. And…guilt? “Malcolm. ”
He could hardly contain his horror at the sight of her. This was not the Judith he knew. She was…gaunt. Her face was thin and ravaged, her features sharp as blades in the shadows. Dark circles curved beneath eyes that seemed too deeply set to be healthy, and they were laced with weariness. Her lips were pale, her face even more so, and the cut on her cheek was still an ugly red line. He saw that she clutched a string of prayer beads, that her body trembled as she fought to keep herself upright on her knees.
Whatever kept her here, ’twas no mere cowardice.
“I mean, Lord Warwick,” she corrected herself quietly. She held herself stiffly. “My pardon. ”
He moved closer, crouching next to where she knelt. The overwhelming urge to gather her to him—this frail woman who hardly resembled the lady who’d nearly beaten him at chess—had him curling his fingers deeply into his palms. Where was the strong, uncomplaining, vivacious woman he knew?
“What do you here, Judith? What has happened? Do you know the queen has been in search of you?”
She looked at him, her face only inches away. Devastation and pain dulled her eyes. Her lush lips were dry and cracked. She swayed suddenly, and he did what he did not wish to do…but yet desired among all things…and caught her in his arms.
“Judith,” he said, ignoring his better judgment and pulling her onto his lap. He eased them both to a seat on the floor. “What is it? You are like to faint. ”
“Then faint I shall, and mayhap then they will leave me be. ” Now she huddled against him as if she belonged there, delicate and trembling in his lap. Mal curved his arms around her, his chin brushing the top of her head just before she sagged against his chest. He breathed in the scent of her.
Her fingers were ice-cold and stained. At first he thought the dark spots were blood and he tensed…had she cut herself? Did she meant to slice her wrists open and perish in the chapel? But he reje
cted that immediately as foolish, and then realized it appeared to be ink stains all over her fingers and wrists.
Malcolm was conscious of how quickly he’d lost his need to be angry with her, but for now, he ignored this realization. There would be time for self-recrimination later.
“They?” he prompted when she stopped speaking. But she remained silent, close against him, still and unmoving but for a hardly discernible trembling. Despite the warm day, she was chilled. “Come now, Judith. Usually ’tis no hardship to set your tongue to wagging. ”
This seemed to be the right thing to say, as odd as it was, for she drew in an unsteady breath and spoke in a low, rapid voice. “The queen calls me to her early in the morrow each day. She is a bitter taskmaster, particularly when motivated by righteous fury. I am not permitted to leave her chamber or to eat or rest until I have finished the many, long, tedious tasks she has laid out for me on that day. And when I am dismissed, I return to my own chamber and I find…. ” Here her breath hitched, and palpable misery flooded from her. “I find my summons to the king awaiting me. I am…with him…. ” She vibrated in Mal’s arms, yet continued on: “…until the early hours of dawn. And so it goes. I do not even know what day it is any longer, or what hour. But at the least,” she added dryly and with a spark of the Judith he knew, “Eleanor has not lifted a hand to me again. ”
Mal could not move. He forced himself to go rigid, to become paralyzed, for if he did not, God knew what he would do. ’Twas a wonder she was not fainted on the floor. Or worse.
“And,” Judith said, her voice rough and low, “I am fair certain I carry the king’s child. ” And that was when he felt her release and begin to sob, jolting softly against him. “Now I will never be free of him,” she whispered. “Never. ”
She did not want the king’s child, that much was abundantly clear. But was it because she did not want to further anger the vindictive queen, or because she did not, after all, wish to be tied to the king? A royal bastard would ensure Judith of wealth and comfort all the days of her life—mayhap even a permanent place in the royal household. What woman would not want that? She would be a fool not to desire such stability.
She does not look like a woman infatuated with her lover, Lady Maris had said.
Malcolm closed his eyes.
“I brought some food and drink,” he said at last, when he could no longer sit with his own thoughts. “Your maid claims you haven’t eaten for days. ”
Judith pulled away, and though he was bereft at losing the scent and feel of her, he helped her sit on the floor, resting her back against the chapel wall. “Or slept,” she added.
Or slept.
Mal busied himself by pulling the strings of the wine skin free of his belt. He handed it to her and presented the cheese and bread. “Thank you,” she said, taking the offerings gladly. “I will do myself no good if I do not eat. ”
“’Tis true,” he said. Then, after she had eaten some and quenched her thirst—and because he could not help himself—Mal asked, “You do not wish for the king’s child?”
Judith’s eyes flashed to him and he saw a quickly masked flare of heat and anger. “I do not wish the man to touch me, let alone for his seed to root within my belly. ’T may be treason to say so, but ’tis the truth. ”
A roaring filled his ears, as it had done when he first learned she was the king’s mistress, and his vision clouded red. His hands were tight fists, his muscles so tense they pained him. If the king were present, Mal would gladly commit his own violent treason. ’Twas near impossible for him to get the words out. “He forced you. ”
Now Judith played with the remainder of the cheese, turning it into crumbles in the lap of her skirt. “I was not willing. He knew I was not willing. But he cared not. Yet he was not…he was not violent. And I was no virgin. But one cannot say nay to one’s liege lord and king. The punishment would be far worse than this. ” She shrugged, looking up at him again. Her pallor had some color now, and in her eyes he could see a spark of life. “I begged the queen to send me away—back to Lilyfare. She would not, for she intends to keep me as her slave until long after Henry is tired of me sucking his cock. Or so she has decreed. ”
Mal caught his breath at the lewd image and closed his eyes. Rage and arousal battled within him, and he settled on rage. ’Twas safer.
Judith’s mouth moved into a flat line and she looked back down at the destroyed cheese. “And if I bear the king’s child…. ” She shook her head. “I would be tied to him—and to her—forever. Hence my fervent prayers. ” She waved a hand to the room at large, then lifted the wineskin to drink once more.
