Sanctuary of Roses Read Online Free PDF Page A

a way to stop
him.” He slipped his hand into the leather pouch that hung at from
his tunic.
    Henry barely paused in his great, vigorous
strides that brought him past Gavin once again. “And how is
that?”
    Gavin fingered the rough, unevenness of the
beads in his pouch. “I mislike to speak of it yet, my lord.
Until…until I’ve put all plans into place.”
    “I do not rightly care,” Henry fumed, “as
long as that man is brought under control, made to pay his taxes,
and swear his fealty to me—I do not care how you do it!”
    As always, it came down to the funds in
Henry Plantagenet’s mind. Despite the fact that there were other
dangers in having a madman as one of his vassals. Gavin said naught
but, “Aye, my lord. I shall.” He swallowed the last of the wine in
his cup. “By your leave, your majesty, I’ll excuse myself to see to
those arrangements.”
    “Be off.” Henry waved a hand and returned to
his pacing. “Keep us informed of your progress.”
    “Aye, my lord. Thank you, your majesty.”
    Gavin took his leave of Henry, relieved that
the private meeting was over.
    It had been no easy task to admit his
resounding defeat to the king, but now he would redouble his
efforts to stop Fantin de Belgrume. He’d declined to describe his
stay at the abbey, and the hasty, manipulative dismissal those nuns
had given him and his men—for that, too, stuck in his craw that
they should be treated with such indignity.
    Fortunately, the night in which he, Thomas,
and the others had awakened in a glen with their mounts tethered
nearby had been dry and warm—else they may have taken ill yet
again. Gavin knew they had been drugged, and, indeed, knew the
perpetrator of the deed. The serene Madonna-nun, who had so
innocently given him the goblet from which to drink, had stayed at
his side, watching him with luminous gray eyes while her potion did
its work. Though he’d recognized a certain steeliness under her
calm demeanor, he’d never thought to be the recipient of such
callousness from his own healer.
    Afterward, he may have thought all of it no
more than hallucination, had he not found her prayer beads tucked
into his pouch. An’ it hadn’t been until some days later ere he
remembered the markings on her wrist and realized what that might
mean.
    He would seek out Judith, who served in the
queen’s court, to be certain his suspicions were accurate.
    As always when he meant to speak with his
cousin and childhood playmate, Gavin’s heart weighed heavier. He
relived again those moments when Judith realized what hurt he’d
caused her. Those blue eyes had pooled with angry, accusing tears,
and her long fingers had clenched into her own arms, drawing
prickles of blood. She had bid him remove himself from her
sight.
    Ere that time they’d spoken but briefly, and
though the accusation was no longer in her expression, he could see
sorrow and pain still mirrored there. He grieved with her, but he
could do naught about putting the anguish there except to have
vengeance upon Fantin de Belgrume in her name as well as his
own.
    * * *
    When Gavin, Lord of Mal Verne, was announced
in the queen’s court, the gossip and giggles halted abruptly and
the ladies turned to watch in fascination as the tall, rugged man
strode into the chambers. He went directly to Eleanor, kneeling to
kiss her ring, and when a slight smile cracked his hard face at
something she murmured to him, it was well-noted.
    Judith, who sat in a nearby corner
embroidering on a wedding gown for one of the ladies, stood as he
rose from posturing over the queen’s hand. She walked quickly to
him, hoping to impress upon him her pleasure at his visit. Since
she was very young, they’d been friends—although Gavin was nearly
seven years older than she. He’d fostered under her father’s care,
and Gavin had been the elder brother she’d never had. This rift
between them had caused her nearly as much grief as Gregory’s
death.
    “Gavin!” She smiled and