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“But Henry had the great Thomas Becket murdered!”
“Yet the great Thomas Becket was quite mad and would have brought the downfall of our country. He sought to enslave all of us to the Church!” Tristram countered, not caring his words might seem blasphemous.
Judith widened her eyes at him.
“T’was murder though! Don’t tell me you condone it?”
Tristram heaved a deep sigh.
“Nay, not at all. Yet Becket was not the man you think he was. He was vain and had greed and ambition of his own.”
“Why, so does Henry!”
“And so does Eleanor!”
Tristram started scowling at his wife, who decidedly was not the biddable, sweet woman he’d thought her at first, then suddenly paused with a smile and a shake of his head.
“We’re arguing again, I see,” he muttered, understanding that, after all, it did take two to argue.
Judith shrugged and cast him a brilliant smile, taking his hand
“I imagine we’ll often get to argue. Didn’t you say we had a life ahead of us?”
She didn’t seem in the least concerned they didn’t share the same way of thinking, and Tristram decided not to feel too concerned either. His wife was right, and he expected they would not always find themselves in agreement. He didn’t wish for a wife who minded him just because she was afraid to speak her mind. And he understood it was a relief that Judith now felt able to do so, and not to always feel compelled to agree with whatever he said, as she’d done in the first days of their acquaintance.
“Come,” Judith called to him cheerfully. “My chores for the day can wait. Let me show you why I love Redmore!”
She now looked carefree and happy, and the worry lines he’d perceived upon her face before seemed to have disappeared. He followed where she led with a smile, eagerly thinking of the time when she got to become his wife in every way.
As she was leadingTristram to show him the places she loved, Judith told herself she should strive to dwell only upon the happiness of being with her husband. The rest did not matter - whether he’d broken faith with her or not. Yet she was more and more willing to believe that Tristram had not done so, because his eyes had been warm and unflinching upon her when he’d told her he’d thought of her. And even if he had broken faith with her, she did not mean to hold that against him. They had been apart for too long. But he was here now, and she meant to be a good and true wife to him. Surely, he would not think upon another woman if she strived to be the best of wives to him, even if he was so beautiful and clever while she was only plain and ordinary.
They kissed and talked and spent a day Judith knew she would always treasure. Upon their way home there was much more kissing, and Judith loved Tristram’s sinfully beautiful lips upon her own, and how his hard and heated body felt against hers. It seemed at first he was more restrained than she in their caresses, and she began to feel she was too eager and too wanton. But soon, she simply forgot herself in his arms and all her shyness melted, and Tristram’s kisses became deeper and his caresses more ardent.
“Well, wife mine,” he said at last with a smile, tracing the imprint of his kisses on her reddened lips with one hand and the curve of her cheek with another. “I think at last I’ll have my heart’s desire of doing much more than just sleeping chastely by your side.”
She blushed, but she met his eyes levelly. It did not feel shameful at all to want him so much. And he didn’t seem displeased with her eagerness. Rather he seemed to rejoice in it, and this was setting her at ease.
“Wait for me, husband!” she told him, deciding to be bold and brushing a quick kiss upon his lips in front of the door of the bedchamber. “I only need to say goodnight to Mother. But I promise I won’t tarry!”
He heaved a sigh, but let her go, saying he’d use this time to bathe, and casting her a mischievous grin when he added he might be already naked next time she glanced upon him. Judith nodded with a wide smile of her own, because she fully remembered Tristram looked even more beautiful than usual with no garments upon his body.
She was still smiling when she went to see her mother and make sure Lady Fenice was not feeling poorly and didn’t need her at this time. Her mother did not seem to be in ill health, but soon Judith came to see she was casting worried glances. Judith became aware her own cheeks were flushed and her lips must look red and swollen from so much kissing. Tristram had uncovered and unplaited her hair as he was kissing her to bury his hands in its mass, and now she began to pat it self-consciously.
“So,” Lady Fenice said softly.
Her mother attempted to smile, but Judith saw the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She hurried to reassure her, “Tristram… He… he is my husband,” she found herself muttering softly, not knowing what to say to make her mother see all was well and that she was happy to spend her time in Tristram’s arms.
“Certainly. It is as it should be. He seems a worthy man,” her mother muttered.
And Judith recalled only too well her mother had spoken of all those women Tristram might have dallied with in London, but she attempted to push the disturbing thought away from her.
“All is well!” she told Lady Fenice in a steady voice.
“Aye,” Lady Fenice acquiesced, but her voice sounded doubtful.
Presently, her mother heaved a small sigh and clasped Judith’s hand in hers.
“Have a care! You see, I fear he is one of those men who loves games. He does not mean to do ill things, yet it might be in his nature to toy with ladies’ affections, used as he is that every woman he meets should fall at his feet. He’s handsome, witty, well-born and skilful. And he knows it only too well. Life seems like an effortless, diverting game to him, and when one sees life as a game, it’s easy to see others just as playthings.”
