Betrothal (Time Enough To Love) Read online

  As the leading couple, they raised their clasped hands, forming an arch through which the remaining couples flowed.

  Alyse sobered as she met his eyes overtop the bridge. “I fear not, Thomas, for the next dance is promised to Guy.”

  Chapter 15

  Thomas’s laughter rang through the Hall at her words, drawing even the attention of Geoffrey at the opposite end. “Oh, Alyse, you will lead him a merry chase tonight, will you not? Is this more revenge for his earlier sins?” His eyes gleamed with his approval. “I do hope so. If this was done without malice, I tremble and fain would see you angry at me!”

  Alyse shook her head, glancing toward the place where Geoffrey and Guy stood, still in conversation. “No, Thomas.” Her original idea to annoy Geoffrey surfaced. “Well, aye, I did hope to vex him with this dance, because of our earlier quarrel.” She peered again at the two men near the dais and longed to know the bent of their conversation. “But after the ceremony, Guy insisted on a dance. I did not think it wise to say no. I have not seen him in many years and he seemed…disappointed.”

  “Why would he be disappointed, Alyse? He won today’s joust and danced with the princess. What more could he possibly want?”

  “To marry me.”

  Thomas sucked in his breath audibly and stared at her as the last of the dancers went through their arch. They dropped their left hands, he clasped the hand of the last dancer and they were away again. He continued to stare at her, a speculative look on his face as he made his final bow. They halted at the far end of the Hall, and he took her hand to lead her back to Geoffrey.

  “He offered for you?”

  “Aye. Apparently, my father found Lord Longford’s proposal more advantageous.”

  “You are disappointed?”

  Alyse started, jerking her hand from his arm. “How could you ask such a question, Thomas?”

  Her partner shrugged and returned her hand to his arm. “Guy is an acquaintance, a friend. Someone with whom you are familiar. Geoffrey is, or was, a complete stranger. A man you still know but little. You might prefer the devil you know to one you do not.”

  Alyse opened her mouth to deny it then paused, considering her answer. Would she have indeed welcomed Guy’s suit, had he appeared at court with the betrothal contract in hand? In light of her newfound feeling for Geoffrey, a truthful answer seemed a betrayal.

  “At the moment of the announcement, perhaps that might have been true.” The admission came grudgingly. She glanced at the man beside her, recalled it had been his name she had desired to hear that night, and fought to remain calm. That was not a confession she could make to him. “Not from any affection I held for him, but because I did not know Geoffrey at all. A friendly face might have been less disturbing.” Still, it would not have been the face she desired. “It is true I grew up knowing Guy, but I have not seen him in many years. We would have been as strangers too.”

  “But not completely so?”

  “Nay. And neither am I a stranger to Geoffrey now.”

  “So I see.” Thomas continued toward the end of the Hall, his eyes fixed on the figures standing there. “Are you as smitten with him as he is with you?”

  “Thomas!” Flames licked at her scarcely cooling cheeks. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Only what I see. Which, right now, is Geoffrey all but breathing fire at the idea that you are going to dance with Guy de Valere. No man reacts so to a woman of no consequence to him.”

  “Do you truly think he knows I am to dance with Guy?” Alyse whispered, as the angry scowl on Geoffrey’s face deepened. She winced.

  Thomas snorted. “With that look on his face? Do you doubt it, my lady?”

  Alyse groaned. No, she did not doubt it at all.

  He laughed and patted her arm as he led her up to the two men. “Courage, lady! I will restrain him while you are engaged with Sir Guy.”

  Thomas raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, loudly pronouncing, “One of the great joys of my life, dear Alyse, has been our first dance together. If you are not engaged for the next…?”

  She grimaced at Thomas’s hopefully arched eyebrows. The wretch could play a part, she had to admit that.

  Guy spoke up immediately. “Mais non, Seigneur Braeton. Demoiselle Alyse has graciously bestowed her hand to me in the next. Ma petite chere?” Guy held his hand out and Alyse took it, throwing one wild look at Geoffrey’s aloof stare.

  They moved to the center of the Hall, where she faced yet another trial, and began a vigorous estampie.

  * * * *

  Geoffrey stared out at the dancing couples—at one particular couple—his scowl deepening. He was so intent upon them, he started when someone laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “He means nothing to her, Geoffrey.”

  He turned a cold eye toward Thomas. “Indeed? She told you this?”

  “Aye, in so many words, she did.”

  “You know they have known each other since childhood?”

  “Aye.” Thomas shrugged, as if such a thing was of no consequence.

  “That he offered for her hand?”

  “Aye.” His friend’s indifference was beginning to irritate.

  “And she professes no preference? He is heir to his father’s lands.”

  Thomas glanced thoughtfully at his friend. “One might imagine a girl with Alyse’s sensibilities would prefer to wed a man she had known since childhood. Even granting that they have not seen each other for years, certainly she is more familiar with him than with you.”

  Geoffrey glared at Thomas’s sharp, inquisitive eyes and shook off his hand. “You said he means nothing to her. You spoke falsely then?”

  “Nay.” Thomas snagged a cup of wine from a passing servant. “I speak only as Alyse spoke to me. She swears there was no disappointment when she found Guy’s suit rejected. And I believe she is well-pleased with your match. But have a care, Geoffrey.” He paused to sip. “She knows you little, but knows well your jealous moods. Were I you, I would curb my dark looks unless she gives you cause to show such.”

  She has given me cause to show nothing but mistrust.

  He could not admit his suspicions to Thomas, however. The man obviously believed her. “Think you not that her accepting a dance with a former suitor is cause for jealousy?”

  “Accepting a dance with a childhood friend who was disappointed at not winning her hand? Rather a poor consolation prize, one dance. Would you trade her for it?” Thomas nodded to an acquaintance then let his gaze rest on the dancing couple.

  Geoffrey arched an eyebrow as he continued to mark the figure in brilliant scarlet. His breathing slowed. Perhaps this dance was no more than courtesy. He could trust his betrothed to act with all due decorum in courtly manners. Had he not learned that lesson the hard way just days ago?

  “He may have won the crown today,” Thomas continued, “but you have taken the greater prize.” He clapped as the music stopped, and Alyse and Valere hurried their way.

  Geoffrey grunted, unconvinced, and faced Thomas, for the first time taking his eyes off Alyse. He plucked the goblet from his friend’s hand, disregarding his astonished look. After saluting him, he drained the cup. “As you say, I am the victor in that contest.”

  Where’er her true affections lie, Alyse is mine, and what is mine, I hold.

  Thomas shot him a curious look then nodded toward the returning figures. “Give your lady your most charming smile. Make her wish to abandon that popinjay with all haste. Make him wish you had never been born.”

  Thomas spoke truth. His betrothed should see only his most ardent side—until he had occasion to confront her about her behavior. He flashed Alyse a broad smile of welcome.

  Her eyes widened, she dropped Guy’s hand and extended hers to him. Her lips curled into a stunning smile, making that bewitching spot above her mouth jump as if it were elated. He kissed her hand then tucked it possessively into the crook of his elbow.

  “My great thanks, Sir Guy, for br
inging my beloved back to me. I missed her sorely even these few minutes we were apart.” He completely ignored the man, resting his gaze only on Alyse.

  He squeezed her hand and led her over to the dais to claim her company at supper as the right of a victor. When the king granted his request, he shot a triumphant look at his foe. The French knight stared steadily at him and Alyse, a challenge in his eyes. Geoffrey grinned, nodded then swept his prize over to his table.

  The time for reckoning was nigh.

  * * * *

  Sparks tingled along her arm and down into the pit of her stomach when Geoffrey squeezed her hand. The small movement, hidden by their bodies, had the intimacy of a stolen kiss. She drew a deep breath and glanced up at her knight, making her eyes promise so many things.

  You are mine now, my lord. My oath on it.

  He leaned toward her, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Mayhap I am too bold, fair lady. But I would beg the next dance of you, ere we dine. I fear too many rough swains will importune you whilst we sup.” A swift, dismissive glance at the others seated at the table consigned them to the outer reaches of hell.

  Geoffrey returned his attention to her, his gaze softening. “Should I tarry at my task, my heart may yet take the most grievous of hurts—to watch while you favor another once more. ‘Twould be as death to me, lady.” He lifted her hand to brush his lips across the backs of her fingers. “An it please you to grant me this boon, I will do you any service to prove my worthiness of the honor.”

  Completely preoccupied with Geoffrey’s charm and courtly manners, Alyse reached the far side of the Great Hall before realizing she had not bid Sir Guy good evening. No great loss in that. The further away she stayed from him, the better her night would end.

  Geoffrey had seated her at the table between himself and Thomas, and now looked expectantly toward her. “Will you favor me with your answer, my lady?” He seemed to hang on her every word.

  “Aye, my lord,” she replied eagerly, pleased at his unexpected good mood. “You may have as many as you wish, although I have promised at least one more to Thomas.”

  “But to no one else?”

  The sharp tone of his voice made her cast her eyes downward. “I had thought to dance with Patrick this evening, my lord. He has ever been one of my favorite partners. But he has not appeared tonight.”

  Geoffrey’s short bark of laughter brought her head up. “I am sorry to bear sad tidings, but I must dash your expectations. Patrick is still…indisposed this evening due to his injury. When I left him earlier this evening he was contemplating the merits of sleeping upright.”

  Alyse clasped her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle at the picture his words conjured. “Poor Patrick.” She smiled tentatively at Geoffrey. “Then, other than my dance with Thomas, all the rest are reserved for you, an it please you, my lord.”

  He cocked his head. “Do you think me harsh because I would have you for myself alone, rather than on the arm of another man?”

  Why would her words always have the opposite effect of what she intended? Would conversation with this man always be a battleground? “Nay, my lord. Harsh is the last word I would use to describe you.”

  “Then what would be the first?”

  “Handsome.”

  Pray he not take that as empty flattery. ’Tis only the truth.

  He chuckled and seemed to relax. “Think you so, truly? Do you not think my nose a trifle out of kilter?” He playfully showed her his profile. “’Twas broken once in a fall from a horse, and I have always been concerned it would discourage the ladies.”

  Delighted by his change in temper, she warmed to the wordplay and continued in his vein. “Nay, my lord. ’Til you mentioned it, I could find no fault at all with your visage. My description still stands.”

  “You are gracious, lady.” His gaze seemed to burn through her.

  “Merely truthful, my lord.” She offered a smile that was not returned.

  “Are you always so?” The sudden sharpness of his tone sent a thrill of alarm through her. His eyes were guarded now.

  “Aye, my lord.” She plucked at her gown, at a loss to understand how the playfulness had drained from their conversation. “’Tis a virtue I hope will serve me well when we are married.”

  Geoffrey took a draft of ale. “I fear truthfulness may be a two-edged sword in marriage if wielded with too much vigor.”

  Intriguing idea. “How so, my lord? How would truth not serve a husband and wife?”

  “Would you tell me true if…” He paused, leaned close to her ear. His proximity, usually so thrilling, now seemed to menace instead.

  “Would I tell you what, my lord?” She could scarce keep the tremble from her voice.

  “If I pleased you not in bed, sweet Alyse? Or would you spare my feelings with the barest of lies?”

  She gasped, though his words were unheard by any save her. Relief washed over her, though she hardly knew what she had expected him to ask. Her heart beat faster and fire crept into her cheeks. A throb pulsed deep in the middle of her core, making her bold. “What would you have me do, my lord? So I will know what to tell you should the need ever arise.”

  Geoffrey leaned back and laughed loud and long, drawing stares from those around him. Thomas glanced sharply from her to his friend and raised an eyebrow. “What merriment are you two up to, Geoffrey? Come, share Alyse’s jest with us all.”

  Now she in turn laughed at the sheepish look on Geoffrey’s face. He rallied, however, to reply, “Lady Alyse asked for instruction.” He paused mischievously.

  The wretch! Her face assuredly now approached the hue of the blazing noonday sun.

  Thomas’s lazy smile broadened. “What kind of instruction, my lady? Perhaps I may assist you in acquiring the knowledge you seek.”

  Geoffrey shook his head and said with mock sorrow, “’Tis hardly a topic for your expertise. My lady wishes for instruction in how to best use her virtues to please me after we are wed. I laughed but at the reply I would make to her.”

  Thomas smirked. “And that reply, Geoffrey?”

  To her dismay, he leaned toward his friend and whispered something that sent the man into a hearty fit of laughter. Why would he betray her confidence by including Thomas in their private jest? She stared at the back of his head, willing him to confront her once more. When he finally turned to her, she had set her features in stern lines, to leave him in no doubt of her displeasure.

  Her look must have captured his attention indeed, for he searched her face as if concerned by what he saw. “My lady? You were saying?”

  Alyse arched her eyebrows at him and sat straighter on the bench. “I was not saying, my lord. I still await your reply to my question.”

  He took her hand once more, running his thumb over her fingers, as if soothing her ruffled feathers. As he leaned down to nuzzle her ear, he whispered seductively, “I will be sure to see to it that the need for such an answer never arises.”

  He raised her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckle of each finger with a soft, sensual caress. She closed her eyes, her body aflame once more.

  Thank God whatever imp caused his ill mood has vanished.

  She stole a glance across the Great Hall to find Guy de Valere’s eyes trained on them—a narrowed, dark gaze atop the thin snarl of his lips. The man had always been arrogant and more than a little peremptory—one reason she had not been disappointed that his suit had failed. Now, if he meant to make trouble between her and Geoffrey, he would find himself on the wrong end of her temper.

  A sudden prickle on her neck, pressure on her fingers, and she pulled her attention back to find Geoffrey staring with menace first at her then across the Hall to Guy.

  In a voice deepened by emotion, he whispered, “My lady, let us seek a breath of cooler air outside.”

  Chapter 16

  Apprehension surged through her at his tone, but Alyse nodded. He took her arm and led her out of the Great Hall and into their courtyard, still engulfed by rose
s. When they stood in the bower, beside the bench, he released her, and she raised her gaze to his face, saddened by the suspicion she found there.

  “I would have our conversation private, lady. ’Twill be brief, but I would speak plainly.”

  She waited, trying to remain composed, to restrain the tears summoned by the understanding that she had displeased him once more. Although how was almost as big a mystery as Geoffrey himself. The man she had come to care for deeply remained an enigma—one moment the ardent lover, the next a fearsome warrior.

  As if two men live in one body.

  “We are to wed in little more than a week, Alyse. I must have your oath that you will cleave only unto me. I am your betrothed. I will be your husband. Not Lord Braeton. Not Sir Guy. Unfortunately, I cannot change what has been decreed.” He stood, clenching his fists, brows furrowed.

  He did not want this marriage after all. Grief welled in her chest, and she feared the tears would begin to flow. For all his talk of coming to know her, he cared nothing for her beyond the letter of the contract.

  “And would you change the decree, Sir Geoffrey, an it were in your power?” She could scarcely drag the words out, low and soft, without sobbing.

  “The real question, my lady, is would you?” He squared his jaw then clenched it.

  “Do you not know my mind, my lord? After the agony of today’s joust, I thought you would see where my true affection lies.” She blinked, willing the tears to recede.

  “With Valere? Or with Thomas? He denies you have an affection for him.”

  “And I deny it as well.” Alyse gaped, unable to comprehend his meaning. “’Tis you I would cleave to, Geoffrey. Only you.”

  “Then why make a spectacle this afternoon over Thomas’s ‘wounds?’ Your behavior bespoke more than simple concern for him.” The scorn in his voice cut like a knife thrust into her heart.