v1.0
May 2007
The Velvet Promise
Jude Deveraux
"Never Will I
Belong To You!"
When the heavy door slammed shut, the room suddenly seemed
unnaturally quiet and Judith was achingly aware of the man beside her.
At this moment, Gavin remembered nothing of a quarrel. Nor had he any
thoughts of love. He knew only that he was in bed with a desirable woman.
He moved his hand to touch her shoulder and to see if the skin was as
smooth as it looked.
Judith drew sharply away from him. "Do not touch me!" she said
through clenched teeth.
He looked at her in surprise. There was hatred in her golden eyes, her
cheeks flushed red. His hand went around her neck, his thumb digging
into the soft flesh. "You are my wife," he said in a low voice. "You are
mine!"
She resisted him with all her strength, but easily he pulled her face to
his. "Never will I belong to you!" she spat at him before his lips closed on
hers.
contents
Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21
22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30
This book is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to
non-historical figures are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance of such non-historical incidents, places or figures to actual events or locales or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New Y ork, NY
10020
Copyright © 1981 by Jude Gilliam White
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever.
ISBN: 0-67 1-7 397 4-3
First Pocket Books printing April 1981
Printed in the U.S.A.
To Jennifer
for melting wax and double Fridays
Prologue
^ »
Judith Revedoune looked across the ledger at her father. Her mother,
Helen, was beside her. Judith felt no fear of the man in spite of all he'd
done over the years to make her fear him. His eyes were red with deep
circles beneath them. She knew his ravaged face was due to his grief at the
loss of his beloved sons; two ignorant, cruel men who were exact replicas
of their father.
Judith studied Robert Revedoune with a vague sense of curiosity. He
didn't usually bother with his only daughter. He had no use for women
since his first wife died and his second, a frightened woman, had merely
given him a girl. "What do you want?" Judith asked calmly.
Robert looked at his daughter as if seeing her for the first time.
Actually, the girl had been kept hidden most of her life, buried with her
mother in their own apartments amid their books and ledgers. He noticed
with satisfaction that she looked like Helen had at that age. Judith had
those odd golden eyes that some men raved about, but which he found
unsettling. Her hair was a rich auburn. Her forehead broad and strong, as
was her chin, her nose straight, her mouth generous. Yes, she would do, he
thought. He could use her beauty to his advantage.
"You're the only one I have left," Robert said, his voice heavy with
disgust. "You will marry and give me grandsons."
Judith stared at him in shock. All her life she had been trained by Helen
for life in a nunnery. Not a pious education of prayers and chanting, but
one of high practicality, leading to the only career open to a noblewoman.
She could become a prioress before she turned thirty. A prioress was as
different from the average woman as a king from a serf. A prioress ruled
lands, estates, villages, knights; she bought and sold according to her own
judgment; she was sought by men and women alike for her wisdom. A
prioress ruled and was ruled by no one.
Judith could keep books for a large estate, could make fair judgments in
disputes, and knew how much wheat to grow to feed how many people.
She could read and write, manage a reception for a king, run a hospital;
everything she would need to know had been taught her.
And now she was expected to throw all of this away and become the
servant of some man?
"I will not." The voice was quiet, but the few words could not have been
louder if they'd been shouted from the slate rooftop.
For a moment, Robert Revedoune was bewildered. No female had ever
defied him with such a firm look before. In fact, if he didn't know she was
a woman, her expression would have been that of a man. When he
recovered from his shock, he hit Judith, knocking her halfway across the
little room. Even as she lay there, a trickle of blood running from the