Chapter 40
JUDITH rolled her head back, giggling as Richer’s thick beard began to tickle her breasts. He had come upon her in the storeroom and proceeded to play his little games with her, refusing to take no for an answer. Backing her into the meal sacks, he thrust his body against her, stilling with his lips her protests over the hour and place.
How forceful he was, this cruel man. And he was cruel. She could see in his eyes, when he touched her with a gentle hand, that he desired to hurt her instead, as he did his other women. But he did not dare use rough ways with her. They both knew he did not dare, but knowing what he was capable of made him all the more exciting to her.
When he began to lift her skirts, Judith gave another token protest. It was what he liked, her resistance. It always fired his blood. When they met at agreed-upon places, she was usually too ready for him, too eager. He liked to catch her unaware, to take her in unlikely places where he knew she would fear discovery and try to put him off.
“Can you not wait until this evening, Richer, and come to my room as we planned?”
He grunted. “I do not like taking you with your husband snoring drunkenly beside us.”
“But that is what is so exciting, love,” Judith purred. “If he wakes, he thinks he is having another delusion.”
He glowered at her, but she knew it rather suited Richer’s dark sense of humor to cuckold his lord right in front of him. It suited her, as well, for she hated William more every day. It was thrilling to have another man mount her while her besotted husband slept beside them.
“I will have you now, and then again later.” Richer grinned darkly, pressing the lower half of his body firmly into hers.
His flames of desire were well met by hers, as he knew they would be. Her thighs parted to accommodate him, even as she sighed and said dramatically, “You will do as you will, Richer. You always do.”
He laughed, but his laughter was cut short by a whining servant’s voice outside the door. “My lady?”
“What?” Judith shrieked.
“My lady,” quavered the voice. “Your son-in-law is here. Rolfe d’Ambert awaits your pleasure.”
To Richer she said curtly, “Let me up, love. You must wait for this evening after all. Faugh! What the devil does he want?”
Judith made haste to straighten her bodice and her hair. She shouted to the servant that she would greet their guest momentarily.
“I will make myself scarce,” Richer said, “in case he has brought his lady with him.”
Judith glanced over at him, startled. She had never heard uneasiness in Richer’s voice before.
She frowned, a touch nervous herself. “Yes, that would be best. If the lord of Kempston has gained any fondness at all for my stepdaughter, it would not do to remind her of you. She might talk to her husband about you, and there is no telling what would come of that.”
In the great hall of Montwyn, Rolfe d’Ambert stood waiting with two of his knights. This was not a simple courtesy visit, and Judith became frightened immediately upon seeing Rolfe’s menacing countenance. There was not a cordial line in his face, not even a feigned smile of greeting as she approached. At least Leonie was not with Rolfe, she noted, hoping her absence would make him a bit less confident than he seemed.
Judith graciously nodded to him. “Lord Rolfe—”
“Your husband, madame. How long will he keep me waiting here?”
“Waiting? William is indisposed, Sir Rolfe. The servants know they must not disturb him.”
“Then I suggest you disturb him, madame.”
She gave him her most beguiling smile. “Surely you would not mind spending time with me instead? I will tell William later that you were here.”
“I think not,” Rolfe said. “It is your husband I wish to have words with, not you. Will you rouse him, my lady, or shall I?”
“But he truly is indisposed,” Judith insisted worriedly. “I—I doubt he would even know you, my lord.”
“He is already drunk at this early hour?” Rolfe growled in disgust.
Judith shrugged. It was just as well he knew, for then he would not bother her again. “It is an unfortunate truth, my lord, that William is very seldom sober.”
“I see.”
Rolfe turned to his men and said, “We will stay here and see the man wrung out to dry. Send word to Sir Thorpe that we will not return today. He might as well go back to Warling—Damn me!” he said explosively. “There is no telling how long this will take!”
Judith was finding it difficult to hide her increasing fear. “What is it you want with my husband, my lord?”
Rolfe’s black eyes fixed on her. “That is not your concern, madame.”
“But—but you cannot simply—”
“No?” he interrupted, his voice low. “Perhaps you like having a sot for a husband?”
“Of course not.” She managed to appear most affronted. “I have tried to stop his drinking, but he cannot function without it. I have been unable to help him.”
“Then you will thank me for taking a hand. I will soon see him functioning well and understanding me perfectly. Now please lead the way. I would begin this distasteful duty immediately.”
Panic mounted in Judith and grew steadily worse as days passed and Rolfe d’Ambert stayed doggedly at the task he had set for himself. She even considered killing the arrogant lord, or killing William, but the former was impossible and the latter, well, if William died, Leonie would inherit everything. Judith would be cast out, penniless. Leonie would do her no good, that was certain.
If only she knew what it was that had brought the lord of Kempston there, but he continued to ignore her pleas to explain. Richer insisted she worried for nothing, but why was Rolfe d’Ambert so angry, and why did he have a ruthless determination to see William coherent and sensible?
The lord of Montwyn was bathed and sheared and bathed again countless times despite his curses and attempts to ward off his persecutors. He was stuffed with food, only to retch it up. He was denied all but milk or water to drink. He was ignored when he screamed for something more potent, ignored when his body shook uncontrollably. And all the while d’Ambert’s anger was a palpable thing, held in check only by heaven knew what.
Judith could only stand by helplessly and watch all that she had accomplished over the years being undone. Her only hope was that William was too far gone to remember any of the recent past, and that once d’Ambert left them alone, William would run back to his drink.
Chapter 41
ROLFE rubbed his face wearily. He was sick of this room, sick of the pathetic man who had drunk his life away.
“If you meant to kill me, why couldn’t you do it quickly?”
Rolfe had heard that lament a dozen times in the last grueling days. William of Montwyn was feeling deeply sorry for himself, and hurting miserably. But his hands no longer trembled quite so much, and his nightmares had begun to lessen.
Rolfe decided he had waited long enough. He finally replied, calling across the room, startling Montwyn and his servants, Rolfe’s men, and Lady Judith. “Because, my lord,” Rolfe drawled, “I want you to know why I wish to kill you.”
The voice was so emotionless that William did not quite credit the statement. His eyes, still slightly streaked with red, fastened on Rolfe. He had been fully dressed that morning despite his protests, and forcibly seated at a table where a feast of wholesome foods awaited him. He ignored them, staring hard at the man responsible for his miserable condition.
“Do you, indeed, Sir Rolfe?” William asked sarcastically, his voice cracking. “Be so good as to tell me why.”
“William, no!” Judith rushed forward, alarmed. “Do not provoke him!”
“It is you who provoke me, madame,” Rolfe said harshly as he rose and came forward. “Out, all of you,” he ordered, nodding to Sir Piers to indicate that Judith would need help in leaving.
“You take too much upon yourself!” William blustered, but he did not even rise.
Rolfe waited until the door was closed before his eyes pierced William. “You know me now?”
“Of course I know you. I just married you to my daughter. God’s pity for that.”
“Just?”
“What do you mean, sir?” William demanded.
“It has been a full three months since I wed your daughter. Do you know that?”
“Three?” William deflated. “Where has—the time gone?”
“Do you remember the wedding?” Rolfe’s voice was coldly menacing now.
“Well, most of it.”
“And before?”
“You signed the contract.”
“Before that,” Rolfe hissed, leaning across the table. “Before you came to Crewel.”
“Now, see here.” William sighed, exasperated. “If you have something you want to say, then say it. Do not keep prompting me. I am very tired.”
“I want to know exactly what you remember doing to your daughter!”
Confused, William rubbed his temples, trying to think. What could he have done to so incense his son-in-law?
“Ah, yes, I do recall she was very upset with me, and with reason,” William admitted frankly.
“Upset?” Rolfe growled. “What you did merely upset her?”