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And mayhap she could make him forget about Beatrice of Delbring. The knowledge that he had left her here at Lilyfare to go to Delbring continued to gnaw at her insides, picking away at her as if ’twere a small scab that could not heal. Sir Waldren had assured Judith that Malcolm had not spent more than one night at Delbring. But she could not set the knowledge fully from her mind that he had left her to go to another woman.
Yet she would do her best to do so tonight.
Then, as she arrived in the hall, timing herself to be there just as the traveling party breeched the gate of Lilyfare, Judith heard someone shout: “’Tis Delbring’s colors with that of Warwick. ”
She stiffened, clutching the arm of the chair next to her. Surely she heard wrong. Judith raised her chin, looking about the hall, forcing herself to breathe slowly and steadily even as her insides pitched and churned. Over the mad pounding of her heart, she heard the sounds of arrival outside—the shouts, the calls, the general disruption.
And then the great doors opened and she forced herself to walk toward them, to greet the arrivals, already looking for the head and shoulders of her husband, which would tower above the others.
Instead, she found herself facing two ladies as they were announced, “Lady Ondine of Delbring and her daughter. ”
Everything else was lost in a roar of sound filling her ears…and then all at once Judith’s world narrowed, tunneling into a red-hazed vision of the young woman before her.
Lady Beatrice of Delbring.
Judith did not know how she managed to negotiate the rest of the evening, but somehow she did. She greeted her guests with all the cordiality of a great, hospitable lady, and when she learned that Malcolm had not even the decency to be present when he introduced his mistress, his love, into his wife’s home, she somehow managed to maintain an emotionless expression.
She wasn’t certain whether she actually ate any of the feast prepared, but she surely had several goblets of wine, for her head became muzzy and her mouth dry. She must have conversed with Lady Ondine and her daughter Beatrice, but Judith had little memory of the specifics of their conversation.
She did spend time looking at Beatrice, examining every aspect of the woman. She noticed her golden-blond hair, her unexceptional face, her calm, tractable expression, her delicate hands.
It must be love, she remembered thinking to herself. For what else could attract Malcolm to such a quiet, obedient, uninteresting woman?
And with that realization, misery settled over her like a heavy blanket.
It wasn’t until she was alone in her chamber—having sent Tabatha off with a sharp command not to bother her until the morrow—that the misery evaporated into rage…then loathing, humiliation, and, finally, anguish.
At last, she fully comprehended Eleanor’s unleashed fury…and her warning. Pray that you must never look upon the woman your husband loves.
Not only must Judith look upon Beatrice, but she must offer her hospitality in her own home.
So this, then, is my punishment. My penance for the greed of lust, for the disloyalty to my liege lady. For the tricking of a good and honorable man—or one who was once a good and honorable man—into wedding me.
SIXTEEN
Malcolm forced himself up into the saddle less than two days after twisting his ankle. The pain was excruciating, but at the least he could put some weight on it—enough that his still swollen foot would fit in the stirrup and enable him to ride.
Rike could not hide his relief that they were on their way at last—for even Mal privately admitted the two days had been long and filled with his own bad humor, insults and much shouting. And because he was on his way at last, Malcolm forgave his new squire the impudence of failing to hide his feelings. And since they were, finally, en route to Lilyfare, he felt magnanimous enough to converse with Rike in a calm, level-headed manner.
For ’twould make the time go faster, and keep his mind off the nagging pain that throbbed and radiated with every one of Alpha’s jolting strides. But by God, he would sleep in his own bedchamber with his wife this night if it killed him.
And after riding five of the six hours to Lilyfare, Malcolm was almost certain it would. The agony from his ankle had grown worse, feeding his impatience and frustration—not to mention his fury for being so bloody clumsy and putting himself in such a humiliating situation. He still seethed at the suggestion that he should have considered riding in a cart, but he was even more incensed that he’d stepped in a damned hole to begin with.
The fact that he’d received no word from Judith was only a minor niggling—for what was she to say to his message that he’d be delayed for two or three days? There was naught she could do, and she was likely twittering about with Beatrice and Lady Ondine, gossiping and doing the things women insisted on doing when they were together.
’Twas good, then, that they would get their visiting out of the way, for, ankle or no ankle, Malcolm meant to keep his wife confined and satisfied for at least an entire day. At the very thought of doing so, his blood raced and his body heated, flushing with anticipation and desire. So much so that he not only did not send Rike on ahead to announce his arrival at Lilyfare, but he forced himself to endure the last thirty minutes of the journey at a canter.
By the time he dismounted in the bailey and tossed his reins to the first man-at-arms he saw, Mal could barely walk. His vision was tinted red and filled with flashes of darkness. He snarled out an order not to be disturbed, then gritted his teeth and forced himself to hobble into the great hall, hoping to set eyes on the flame-red hair of his wife.
When he did not see her—although Lady Beatrice and Lady Ondine were sitting in a corner by the fire—Malcolm turned on the nearest serf and demanded to
know where Lady Judith was.
“She is in her solar, my lord,” said the startled woman.
Of course she was. It was hardly past midday. Still, it was mayhap a bit odd that Judith was not with the ladies from Delbring.
“We are not to be disturbed,” Mal commanded—to her and to the chamber at large, catching Nevril’s eye as he rushed in to greet his master.
