The Earl shrugged. ‘We all have our own little foibles and sometimes tortured men can be made to sing a very pretty tune.’
Guyon’s nostrils flared. ‘Yes,’ he said without inflection.
Chester laid a hand on Guyon’s shoulder. ‘Son, you’re too finicky and you can’t afford the luxury of principles in the present company.’
Guyon watched Walter de Lacey set his hands on Judith’s hips and swing her round. The stiff smile on her face threatened to shatter. ‘I realise that. De Lacey offered for the girl himself shortly before her father was killed; he had de Belleme’s sanction to the suit.’
Chester pursed his soft, small lips. ‘Did he so?’ He eyed the dancers with interest. ‘He’ll bear watching then, because it doesn’t look as though he’s willing to concede you the victory.’
Guyon turned and his gaze narrowed in anger. The music had finished on a flourish and Walter de Lacey had pulled Judith hard to his chest and was kissing her passionately on the mouth, one hand roving and probing the curve of her buttocks. Guyon swore, thrust his wine into the Earl’s hastily held out paw and stalked across the room to reclaim his bride.
‘The privilege is mine, I believe,’ he said icily as he forced himself between de Lacey and Judith. ‘I do not want the wedding guests to confuse the identity of the bridegroom.’
De Lacey bestowed on Guyon a snarled smile. ‘I doubt they are in any confusion, my lord. Be welcome to the wench while you have the wherewithal.’
‘And guard yours if you wish to keep it intact, and mind with whom you drink.’ He snapped his fingers at the musicians, who fumbled and then struck up a livelycarole. Guyon held out his arm to Judith.
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. ‘I cannot,’ she muttered. ‘My lord, I … I think I am going to …’ She clapped her hand to her mouth.
Her face reflected the green of her gown. Taking her arm, Guyon propelled her out of the hall, ignoring salacious remarks and concerned enquiries alike.
Outside it had begun to snow. Judith leaned miserably against the wall of the forebuilding and vomited until her stomach was empty and her muscles ached. The feel of de Lacey’s tongue slithering slug-like around her mouth had filled her with shuddering revulsion. She could still taste him, feel his hand digging into her buttocks, forefinger slyly probing, and the hard thrust of his pelvis against her belly and loins. It had been horrible. Tonight she must endure that and worse in her marriage bed.
‘Did he hurt you?’
She shook her head, unable to speak.
‘There are always men like him,’ her new husband said contemptuously. ‘It was thrown down to me by way of a challenge. I am sorry that he chose to use you as his gage.’
Judith bit her lip and wished that he would go away. The snow floated down.
‘You need not be afraid of me, child,’ he said gently. ‘I will do you no harm.’
‘I am not a child!’ she snarled at him, jerking away. Sleeving her eyes, she wondered if he would hit her.
He touched her shoulder. ‘I know it is hard for you.’
Judith raised her chin. ‘Do you, my lord?’ she demanded flatly.
‘You have been forced into a match made for the purposes of others and to a partner you had not set eyes upon before today. How should you not be afraid and resentful? I understand more than you think.’
She gave him a surprised look. Whatever else she had expected, it was not this rueful candour. It had not occurred to her that the resentment was mutual, that he might not want her rich lands and the burdens that accompanied them, not least herself.
He applied gentle pressure to her shoulder with his fingertips until she turned hesitantly to face him.
‘I have said you need not fear me for any reason … The bedding ceremony, it worries you?’
Judith looked down, wondering where all this was leading. She did not desire a lesson in enlightenment, no matter how kindly meant.
Guyon took her downcast silence for modest assent. ‘The first part is something that will have to be borne. The second we can abandon. Rape has never appealed to me.’
‘I … I know my duty, my lord,’ she stammered.
‘I have no doubt, but it would be rape all the same and I prefer the pleasure to be mutual. In your own time,fy Cath fach.’ He lightly brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. She lifted her lids, eyes torn between relief and doubt.
‘You truly mean that, my lord?’ He had called her a small cat – a kitten.
‘I would be a fool if I did not. There is enough on your trencher already without burdening your body so young.’
