“I’m sorry,” she offered.
“There is no need to be sorry,” he replied. “We haven’t been involved for a long time. You have old news.
“I know a betrothal sounds mad, Gilda. But I really couldn’t think of what else to do. It’s my fault that your reputation is threatened. I want to make things right, and I think my plan can work.”
Gilda sighed, finally accepting that he had done the best he could. But she still worried about how the plan would succeed. “How did you explain the fact that I’m still a nun if I’m betrothed to you?”
“You haven’t taken your final vows. You grew up in the convent, and your father’s manor is far away. It’s a safe place for you to stay until we’re married. The match is still being finalized.”
Her eyes widened. “You make it sound so reasonable.”
“I believe we should think of the betrothal as real.” He glanced over to Freda, remembering that Gilda had discussed the situation with the nun. “There is an attraction between us, as we’ve already discussed. It’s probably one of the reasons we are in this tangle. When the attraction fades, it will be easier to break off the betrothal.”
Gilda sat beside Freda. “What do you think of Justin’s plan?”
“It could work.” Her words surprised both Justin and Gilda. “But what about the fact that you are supposed to be looking into Cedric’s desire for an annulment of his marriage? How would your betrothal affect that task, Justin?”
“We were appointed by the king. In addition, I doubt Cedric would object unless it appeared he wouldn’t get his way. So far neither party has shown any desire to continue the marriage,” Justin replied.
Freda nodded. “I have one suggestion. You should think of a reason why you are delaying the marriage. I will leave you to discuss the matter. Come to bed soon, Gilda.”
Justin sat down on the opposite side of the small room from Gilda. Because she avoided looking at him, he was able to study her small figure. He struggled with the urge to sit beside her and put his arm around her. Then he smiled when he remembered her lack of restraint in touching him.
“Is it so terrible, the thought of being betrothed to me?” he asked.
She looked up then. “It’s a deception, Justin.”
“What if it wasn’t? What if we made it real?”
Gilda searched his face. “You mean until the attraction dies?” she whispered.
He stood up and walked across the room to sit beside her. “Marriages are seldom contracted on the basis of attraction,” he reminded her. “Can we agree that we’ll enter into a real betrothal? Neither of us had thought of marrying, I know, but it has its advantages. Having children is one of them,” he said, thinking of the baby for whom they had become godparents.
Gilda’s mouth dropped open at his last words, and Justin grinned. “I’m thinking this through as I speak, a method I don’t usually consider advisable.” He paused, wondering if he was mad, as she suggested. “Perhaps we could have a trial betrothal and get to know each other. Then we can decide whether we wish to go further. We can keep the plan to ourselves, as no one is likely to understand.”
It was a novel idea. But it appealed to Gilda for several reasons. They wouldn’t be lying, and their relationship would be settled. They could concentrate on why they had come to Mainz.
Gilda nodded. “It seems a reasonable plan. Our relationship has already caused too much distraction. By pointing out our connection, the count’s brother has clouded the issue of why he was at Saint Ives. That’s what we should be thinking about. Philip clearly went in search of Mariel, and he didn’t tell his brother.”
Although Justin was relieved Gilda had agreed to his suggestion, he couldn’t help being disappointed that she switched subjects so quickly. “You’re right, Gilda. Let’s go to our rooms, meet in the morning, and work on that problem.”
Freda had been awake when Gilda entered their room, but as soon as she saw Gilda, she rolled over and went to sleep. Gilda was unable to do the same. She found it hard to stop her mind from thinking about all that had happened since Justin had offered her an apple for breakfast. The gesture beside the stream now seemed a symbol of the temptation he was turning out to be.
The betrothal was as good as accomplished. Gilda knew her brother would not object to the match. Isabel had been promoting it since she had first seen Justin and Gilda together. Although Gilda hoped it would settle matters between them to have a trial betrothal, she suspected Justin might have second thoughts in the morning. She certainly had them already.
In order to banish the subject from her mind, she turned her thoughts to Lady Mariel and why Philip might have traveled to Saint Ives without his brother’s knowledge. It puzzled her that Mariel had taken the sleeping potion. Her explanation seemed false. Even if Mariel had been having trouble sleeping, why would she have taken the potion at the shed? When they found her, she had been lying on the pallet, peacefully laid out and elegantly attired.
Gilda sprang up in bed and threw off the cover. Pausing only to grab a wrap to put around her shoulders, she rushed out of her room and across the outer chamber, and knocked on Justin’s door. When there was no reply, she pushed the door open and called, “Justin, wake up.”
There was a candle burning by an empty bed, and she wondered where Justin could be. Then she heard a muffled curse from another bed in the far corner. She thought she recognized Justin’s voice, but instead of answering her he pulled a blanket over his head.
Tripping over a pair of boots as she made her way to his bed, Gilda mumbled the same curse she heard him use. Impatient with his lack of response, Gilda yanked the blanket off his head.
“Justin, I have something to tell you. Wake up.”
“This had better be good,” Justin said as he sat up.
When his blanket fell away, Gilda could see his bare chest covered with curly brown hair and framed by white shoulders that seemed very broad. She suddenly doubted the wisdom of her actions and stepped back, only to trip over the same boots she had stumbled on earlier.
As she sat on the floor staring up at him, Gilda said, “You should put your boots under the bed.” Then as he started to rise from his bed, she almost shouted, “No, no, don’t get up.”
Justin paid no attention to her plea. Gilda was so relieved to see he was wearing tights that she accepted the hand he extended to her. He pulled her up against him, and her cheek touched his hard chest before she could move away.
“Have you come to seal our betrothal with a kiss, Gilda?” he whispered.
One of Justin’s hands went into her hair and the other behind her back. He leaned down until his lips found hers. His movements were so slow she could have moved away at any point. But she was mesmerized, unwilling to give up the opportunity to feel his arms around her once more. The kiss was tender. It made her knees weak, and she leaned into him. When his lips applied more pressure, she welcomed that, too, and wrapped her arms around his waist, unable to get close enough.
When Justin’s lips left hers, Gilda moaned her disappointment. Then he leaned down again and picked her up in his arms. When he turned to lay her gently on his bed, Gilda realized his intent, and reason returned. She scrambled away to the other side of the bed and almost fell to the floor.