The Velvet Promise Read online

  “What news?” John’s deep voice interrupted.

  Judith pulled away from her mother. “No, I am unharmed. I couldn’t come because I’ve had no time. Walter Demari keeps me at something every moment. If I mention a visit to you, he finds someplace I must go.” She sat down on a stool John placed behind her. “As for the news, I have seen Gavin.”

  Neither John nor Helen spoke.

  “They keep him in a hole below the cellar. It is a slimy place, and he cannot live much longer in it. I went to him and—”

  “You went into the pit?” Helen asked, astonished. “Not while you carry a child! You endangered the baby!”

  “Quiet!” John commanded. “Let her tell of Lord Gavin.”

  Judith looked at her mother, who usually cowered away from a man’s sharp tones, but Helen only obeyed and showed no fear. “He was very angry at me for being here and said that he had already arranged for our rescue. His brother Stephen has been sent for.”

  “Lord Stephen?” John asked, then smiled. “Ah yes. If we can hold out until he comes, we will be saved. He is a good fighter.”

  “That is what Gavin said. I am to keep Demari from me as long as I can, to give Stephen time to bring his men.”

  “What else did Lord Gavin say?”

  “Very little. He spent most of the time listing all that is wrong with me,” Judith said in disgust.

  “And are you able to keep Demari from you?” Helen wondered.

  Judith sighed. “It’s not easy. If he touches my wrist, his hand slides to my elbow. A hand on my waist rides up my ribs. I don’t respect the man. If he were to sit down and talk reasonably to me, I would sign half the Revedoune lands over to him for a copper if he would only free us all. Instead he offers me daisy chains and love poems. There are times when I want to scream in frustration.”

  “What of Sir Arthur?” John asked. “I cannot see that man making daisy chains.”

  “No, he just watches me. I am never away from his eyes staring at me. I feel there is something he plans, but I don’t know what.”

  “It will be the worst, I’m sure,” John said. “I wish I could help you!”

  “No, there is nothing I need help with now. I can only wait for Lord Stephen to arrive and negotiate or fight—whichever must be done. I will talk with him then.”

  “Talk?” John raised one eyebrow. “Stephen is little given to talking over his battle plans with women.”

  A knock sounded on the door. “I must go. Joan waits for me. I’m not sure I want Demari to know I’m here.”

  “Judith.” Helen grabbed her daughter’s arm. “You are caring for yourself?”

  “As well as I can. I am tired—that’s all.” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “I must go.”

  When they were alone, John turned to Helen. “Here, don’t cry,” he said sternly. “It will help nothing.”

  “I know,” Helen agreed. “She is just so alone. She has always been alone.”

  “And what of you—have you not also always been alone?”

  “I don’t matter. I am an old woman.”

  He grabbed her harshly under her arms and pulled her to him. “You are not old!” John said fiercely before his mouth came down on hers.

  Helen had been kissed by no man except her husband—and him only at the beginning of their marriage. She was startled by the chill that ran up her spine. She returned his kiss, her arms going about his neck, drawing him closer to her.

  He kissed her cheek, her neck, his heart pounding in his ears. “It is late,” he whispered, then swung her into his arms and carried her toward the bed. Each night he helped her unbutton her simple gown since she had no other maid. He was always respectful and kept his eyes turned away when she climbed into bed. Now he set her on her feet by the bed, then turned to walk away.

  “John,” she called, “you will not help me with the buttons?”

  He looked back at her, his eyes dark with passion. “Not tonight. If I were to help you undress, you wouldn’t climb into that bed alone.”

  Helen stared at him, the blood pounding through her body. Her experiences with a man in bed had been brutal times. But now she gazed at John and knew he would be different. What would it be like to lie happily in a man’s arms? She could hardly hear her own voice when she spoke. “I will still need help.”

  He walked to stand before her. “Are you sure? You are a lady. I am only your son-in-law’s vassal.”

  “You have come to mean a lot to me, John Bassett, and now I would have you be all.”

  He touched the hood at her forehead, then pushed it away completely. “Come, then,” he smiled. “Let me see those fastenings.”

  In spite of Helen’s brave words, she was afraid of John. She had grown to love him over the last few days, and she wanted to give him something. She had nothing except her body. She gave herself as a martyr. She knew men received great pleasure from the joining in bed, but for her it had only been a quick, rather messy affair. She had no idea it could be any different.

  She was surprised when he took his time undressing her. She thought a man would have thrown her skirts over her face and been done with it. John seemed to enjoy touching her. His fingers along her ribs sent little shivers through her skin. He lifted her dress over her head, then her underdress. He stepped away from her and looked at her as she stood wearing only the thin cotton chemise and her hose. He smiled warmly at her as if her body pleased him. He put his hands on her waist, then lifted the chemise away. His hands were on her breasts instantly, and Helen gasped in pleasure at his touch. He brought his lips to hers. She kept her eyes open as She stared in wonder. His gentleness sent waves of delight through her body. Her breasts ached against the rough wool of his doublet. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, her arms tightening. Never had she experienced this feeling before.

  John pulled away from her and began to remove his clothing. Helen’s heart was pounding. “Let me,” she heard herself say, then drew back at her own boldness. John smiled at her with just the expression she was feeling—rising passion.

  She’d never undressed a man before, except to help a visitor who she was helping to bathe. John’s body was stout and muscular, and she touched his skin as each garment fell to the floor. Her breasts touched his arm, sending little sparks through her body.

  When John was nude, he lifted Helen in his arms and carefully placed her in bed. She had a moment’s regret that now the pain would begin and the pleasure end. John lifted her foot and set it in his lap. As Helen watched breathlessly, he untied her garter and rolled the cotton stockings off, kissing her leg every inch of the way. By the time he reached her toes, Helen could no longer hold herself up. Her body was strangely weak, her heart was now hammering in her throat. She reached her arms out for him to come to her, but he would not.

  He reached for her other leg. Helen knew she could bear no more. Her body was beginning to ache for him. John laughed throatily and pushed away her clutching hands. It was an eternity before he’d kissed the other stocking off.

  Helen lay back against the pillows, weakly. John came to her, kissed her, and her hands buried themselves into his shoulders. He ran his hand firmly down her side and pulled away her underpants. She pressed against him, could feel that he was ready for her. But John was not through with his torture of her. His head bent to her breasts, his tongue and teeth making little nibbles on the hard pink crests. Helen moaned, her head moving from side to side on the pillow.

  John slowly moved a leg on top of her, then his whole weight. How good he felt! He was so strong and heavy. When he entered her, she cried out. She felt that she may as well be a virgin for all the experience she’d had in pleasure. Her husband had used her body, but John made love to her.

  Her passion was as fierce as John’s, and they came together in a fiery explosion. He pulled her close to him, his arm and one leg thrown across her as if he thought she’d try to escape. Helen burrowed herself even closer to him. If possible, she would have liked to s