Betrothal (Time Enough To Love) Page 3

  “I got my answer, Anne, not my wish.” Her tone as terse, Alyse folded away her rose gown and closed the lid of the chest. Standing in her plain white linen shift, she unpinned her hair.

  “You would wish to be married to someone other than Geoffrey Longford?” Anne scowled and stroked harder, but when she spoke again, her tone was more wistful than strident. “Did you look at him, Alyse?” Anne’s father had betrothed her to the Viscount de Mantillas, reported to be an older Spanish nobleman, and she had bemoaned her expectations of her wedding night before now.

  Her hair freed, Alyse brushed with vigor, venting her temper with each stroke. “Aye, I’ve looked at him, Anne, and altogether too close! As I said earlier, looks are not the only consideration for a husband. From what I observed, Sir Geoffrey has quite a high opinion of himself and no regard for my feelings.” She paused, remembering his response to her silent plea. “Almost no regard. And did you see how huge he is? Up close, I mean? He could crush me like a flea if I displeased him!”

  “So do not displease him! All a woman need do is warm a man’s bed well enough and she will find favor with him. You should have little trouble seeming eager with such a man between your sheets. Do you think he is huge all over?”

  “Anne!” Alyse suppressed a shudder at the thought.

  “Even if he is not, I would change places with you in a snap of my fingers. Put that away for me.” Anne handed her brush to her roommate then scooted beneath the covers. “You are so besotted with Lord Braeton¸ who never gave you a serious thought, that you cannot see a gift from God when it is set down before you.” She turned her back and commanded brusquely, “Blow out the candle when you are done.”

  Alyse frowned at Anne’s bold words. She would never call Geoffrey Longford a gift from God, but she was more than a little disturbed that her thoughts returned incessantly to her approaching wedding night. Though it was little wonder after the way his touch had set her body aflame. She’d never experienced the like in her life. Was that normal? Despite her longing for him, Lord Braeton’s caress provoked none of the heated feelings Sir Geoffrey’s touch stirred in her. A shiver overtook her when she remembered the desire in his eyes. All too soon, she would be alone with Geoffrey Longford and that desire would become more than just a look.

  She drew a deep breath and exhaled, willing herself to forget about her betrothed for the rest of this night. After one last stroke of her hair, she set the brush aside. As she smoothed her shift, her thumbs brushed against her breasts and she trailed her hands along her waist to flare over her rounded hips. Suddenly, her imagination skipped to two weeks hence and Geoffrey Longford’s rough palms swept over her body instead.

  Shudders rippled through her, and heat flushed her cheeks. She hastily dropped her hands, only to realize she was panting. She had to stop these thoughts about the man, else she would go mad ere the appointed day.

  Alyse blew out the candle and climbed between the sheets, banishing images of the night when she would have to share a bed with the hulking knight she had met this evening.

  Oh, that it would be Lord Braeton instead. Then I would agree with Anne that I had gotten my wish!

  * * * *

  In the apartments he shared with Thomas Knowlton, Geoffrey Longford plucked off his cotehardie, readying himself for bed and earning his companion’s scowl of displeasure. Seated in a chair before the banked fire, Thomas relaxed with a cup of wine, his foot outstretched to the hearth. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the chasing on the silver goblet then spoke in his most persuasive voice. “You cannot tell me you intend to retire at this hour. It is not yet midnight, and there is to be a game in Sir John Claymore’s apartments this evening.”

  Geoffrey strode to the table, dressed in nothing but his chausses, and took a cup of the sweet wine for himself. He shook his head. “Nay, Thomas, I plan an early morning.”

  “Hawking or hunting?”

  “Most definitely hunting.”

  Thomas sipped his wine. “What game?”

  Geoffrey laughed. “A wide-eyed doe.”

  An irritated glare sparked as Thomas sat up. “Oh, do not tell me you have been snared by that little wench you flaunted earlier tonight! You looked insufferably pleased with yourself, though I have no idea why. You did not even win her through your own efforts. Your father chose her, by Christ.” He glared at Geoffrey. "Though why he did not get you a better alliance, God knows. He made a much more illustrious match for your brother.” Thomas shook his head. “And yet you approve of it?”

  Geoffrey grinned at the exasperated man. “Aye, I do. The match is better than you may think, Thomas. Her father has no sons and she is the eldest daughter, so his estates will pass to her and her husband on his death. A fair catch for a second son with no expectations, would you not say?” He sipped the wine and sighed. “And strange as it may seem, I liked the little maid.”

  “An innocent who will not even know how to please a man properly. As I recall, you usually prefer more lively fare.”

  Geoffrey grimaced. Thomas knew his appetites in women as well as his own. “What I prefer would hardly be what I would wed.” He seated himself across from the man he had called friend for ten years. “She is what I expected in a wife and maybe a bit more besides.”

  Thomas grunted, twirling his cup in his hands. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, she is an innocent, but underneath there is a mettle in her that could be very entertaining, both in and out of bed.” Geoffrey chuckled. “She spoke her mind rather freely tonight and challenged me to be her Hercules.”

  Thomas cocked his head. “Hercules? I would say she has an eye for the obvious. You fit that immortal’s description so well already.” His face took on the smug smile it so often wore. “I know you saw how smitten she was with me when I pointed her out to you earlier. A bold eye she had, with a face to tell the tale.” He grinned at Geoffrey. “She did not, however, seem pleased with you, my friend. You should be glad she had no dagger within her reach when you forced her to promenade around the room.”

  Geoffrey scowled. He knew Thomas’s penchant for baiting well.

  “Did you see her face when I kissed her hand? I thought she would drop to the floor.”

  Geoffrey snorted and shook his head. “She is young, and you are but a passing fancy.” He shot a glare toward the smaller man. “Trust me, I will make sure of that. And you well know ’twas when I kissed her hand before the court that she all but swooned. Neither did she react to your kiss, but to the touch of her hand on mine after you had kissed it.”

  “You saw that, you devil!” Thomas shook his head. “And I was at my most charming, too. So why does your rough touch make the girl giddy? Have you threatened to beat her already?”

  “She is marrying me, not you, Thomas.”

  “Geoffrey! You wound me to the quick. But the question at hand is what makes her tremble at your touch?” Thomas laughed, the idea of such a strong attraction obviously ludicrous to him.

  Geoffrey chuckled at the question, but avoided an answer. He sat, lost in contemplation. When it came to courting a lady, he could not hold a candle to Thomas. That seductive man possessed charms Geoffrey had watched him ply with great success for years, yet had never been able to emulate. He shunned all but the most necessary entanglements with women and so had little experience with satisfying them outside the bedroom. The memory of the unexpected inferno that had leapt from his betrothed’s hand to his during that kiss bewildered him. Would it make his courtship of Lady Alyse easier or more difficult?

  “You know, Geoffrey, according to the art of courtly love it is the height of bad manners to fall in love with your own wife. A man’s true love is found with another man’s lady.”

  Thomas always saw too much.

  Geoffrey coolly turned the tables. “Mayhap then you will oblige me by marrying Lady Alyse yourself, and wear the cuckold’s horns, lest I disappoint the rules of courtly love.”

  With a snort of derision, Thomas got to
his feet, apparently done sparring for the night. “Not for the wide world, my friend. Although I bear you great love, Geoffrey, I will wear no horns, nor saddle myself with an untried maid even on a bet. To which end I did not offer for the fair Alyse when I had the chance.” He set his empty cup down and grinned at his companion. “I prefer the well-seasoned dish to plain fare.” He made for the door then turned as he opened it. “In truth, are you not coming?”

  Geoffrey rose and stretched. “Nay, Thomas. My business will not keep. Another time, mayhap.”

  With a groan, Thomas left the chamber to Geoffrey, who went to stare out the window at the shadowy trees across the royal park.

  Thomas’s question still preyed on his mind. The lightning stab of desire when he had caught the maid’s eye, he understood well. She was comely, with face and form fashioned to make a man ache. But why did his flesh seem afire whenever he touched her? Such feelings were alien, unknown in all his previous dealings with women. This was different—and disturbing.

  He sighed, and thought of the changes that would soon rule his life. Already ruled it. His refusal to carouse with Thomas was the first sacrifice. He had always matched Thomas pace for pace in whatever pastime they favored—hawking, gaming, wenching. But tonight he had to cry off. He had not aimed to disappoint his friend, but he had devised a plan to satisfy Alyse’s need for time and wanted to put it into motion at the soonest possible moment. Which meant breaking his fast early.

  He imagined his betrothed’s face, her crystal blue eyes wide when he laid the plan before her, and could not suppress a smile. She might be outraged, but he aimed to give her exactly what she had asked for. Her Hercules would succeed at his set labor, and she would have to become used to life with a resourceful man.

  His thoughts turned to the more intimate things she would have to get used to, and a stir of desire rose in him. He imagined her thick black hair fanned out on the bed, her full-lipped mouth beneath his, and the small dark mole just above the right corner of her lips begging for the touch of his tongue. That dot had entranced Geoffrey in the Great Hall earlier. His mind fixed on the tiny, curious mark, and filled his head with images… A shiver coursed through him.

  He conjured her naked, luscious body before him, but his cock insisted on more substantial fare. The thought of two weeks of such torture elicited a low groan. Perhaps he would seek relief with another before the wedding night. Too much hunger might make him overeager, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt Alyse unduly. The problems of sampling plain fare were not unknown to him, though his tastes usually ran, as Thomas’s did, to the more seasoned. Still…this plain fare, with the addition of a little spice, promised to be delectable indeed.

  With that pleasant thought, Geoffrey quit the window, doffed his chausses and doused the light. He contemplated the morrow when the campaign for the capitulation of Lady Alyse would begin—with its success to be decided in this bed two weeks hence.

  As he drifted down into sleep, Geoffrey grinned in anticipation. He dearly loved a challenge.

  Chapter 4

  “Well, you had best try to like him,” Anne scolded Alyse as they made their way to the Great Hall for the morning meal. “You do not have a choice, now do you? And for God’s sake, put Lord Braeton out of your mind. That will only lead to trouble. Do you believe Sir Geoffrey will brook any such—”

  “Good morrow, gentle ladies.”

  Alyse jumped at the sound of his deep voice so close behind her. Her heart pounded out an insistent, erratic beat. She turned, as did Anne, and dipped her curtsy. “Good morrow, my lord.”

  God’s death, did he overhear us?

  Anne somehow managed to sound cheerful. “Good morrow, Sir Geoffrey. You are here quite early, are you not?”

  “Yes, I was here early.” His voice held a soft reproach. “’Tis you and Lady Alyse who have tarried. The meal is almost over.”

  Anne’s eyes widened in glee and her mouth crooked into a lopsided smile. “We would have been earlier, my lord, but Alyse took more pains than usual this morning with her hair. I told her we would be late.”

  “Anne!” Heat bloomed in Alyse’s cheeks and her tone was shrill. “’Twas not my fault the pins would not hold it aright today.”

  She glanced at Geoffrey, chagrined lest he think she had fussed with her appearance in anticipation of seeing him. “My hair sometimes has a will of its own, my lord. It can be stubborn.”

  He laughed while his gaze rested on the now-neatly-coifed hair beneath a blue net studded with seed pearls. “I am sure you bend it to your will regardless of its capricious nature, my lady.”

  Alyse gave him a wary smile. “Aye, my lord, I generally win the battle, although the skirmishing can be fierce.” He seemed better behaved today, but why was he here?

  Geoffrey’s eyes sparkled. “Would you do me the honor, ladies, of taking the meal with me?” He gestured toward a table.

  “You are kind, Sir Geoffrey.” Anne headed to the place indicated and Alyse had no choice but to follow, although her steps were reluctant. Geoffrey left them to seat themselves, signaled a servant to attend them then paused to speak to another courtier.

  She darted glances at him and grudgingly admitted the splendid figure he made. Once again attired in blue, his coat ran to a lighter hue this morning. Almost the same shade she had chosen for the day, in fact. She fingered the rich folds of her figured gown—they already looked like many couples who dressed to complement each other. A sign of harmony between them? She could only pray so after yesterday’s encounter.

  She stole another glance, noting once more the lean-muscled arms straining the fabric of his tight-fitting cotehardie. When her gaze drifted lower, his dark hose tantalized her with its display of his muscular calves. Alyse gulped and turned her attention to the cheese, bread and small ale the servant placed before her. The last thing she wanted was for her betrothed to observe her interest.

  Upon his return, he sat opposite her and ate in silence. Alyse pretended to eat. After managing one bite of the sharp cheese, she settled for picking at the bread. Another mouthful might choke her.

  “You eat but little this morning, my lady.” Geoffrey bit into his bread with gusto.

  “I am not very hungry, my lord.” Indeed her appetite had waned the moment she had seen him.

  “You would take a different dish? Fruit, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you, sir.” Alyse kept her eyes on the food, which she continued to toy with to give her hands something to do. When the bread resembled nothing more than a heap of crumbs, she risked a quick glance at the man across from her. His eyes were on her.

  Biting back an oath, she dropped her gaze to her food once again. A more unappetizing collection of viands she could not imagine. Mayhap some drink would soothe her churning stomach.

  As she reached for her cup, she tried to avoid looking at him. But as soon as she drew the vessel to her lips, her gaze flew to her companion as if she had no will at all. Geoffrey’s attention remained focused on her.

  Blushing under this insistent stare, Alyse fumed in silence. She was simply not up to Geoffrey Longford this early in the day. Soon she would have to deal with him morning, noon and night. A moan of despair threatened to escape her throat. How would she ever resolve her feelings for this man? She looked to Anne for help, but that traitor rose from the table.

  “Alyse, give me leave a moment. I wanted to speak with Lady Margaret Destrys before she goes to attend the queen. I will meet you at Mass.” With a smirk at her distraught roommate, Anne abandoned her to her fate.

  Stricken, Alyse once again lowered her head to regard her bread and cheese, which now did not even remotely resemble food. She would retch if she attempted a single bite. Lifting a weary hand, she shielded her face.

  “Do I distress you this morning, Lady Alyse?”

  She took a breath to steady herself then raised her head. “No more so than you did last night, my lord.”

  He still stared at her, an amused expression
on his face. “And did I disturb you then?”

  “Aye, my lord, you did. I think I made that quite clear at the time.” Did he not remember last evening at all?

  “So I am again upsetting you, my lady?”

  “Aye, my lord.” The words came out incredulous that he would so belabor the point.

  “How?”

  Alyse blinked. “How?”

  Geoffrey squared his wide shoulders and looked at her expectantly. “Aye, lady. How have I distressed you? I greeted you in a courteous manner. I have attended you most eagerly. I have held gentle conversation with you. So I would know which of these acts distressed you?”

  Bewildered, she shrugged. “All of them, my lord.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “I have acted as a gallant courtier and it distresses you?”

  She could think of no other way to explain it. “’Tis not your actions, my lord, that disturb me but that you are a stranger to me.”

  “But Alyse, how else can you come to know me? If we do not meet? If we do not talk? I have sought you out this morning to tell you I have solved the task you set me last night.”

  She frowned. Task? What task?

  “You asked me to make time stand still,” he reminded her. “Though I regret I cannot do that exact thing, I believe I have found a way to achieve the same ends. Which is for you to know me better, is that not true?”

  Alyse thought a moment. In truth, she had asked for time to know the man she must marry. She nodded for him to continue.

  “So, my lady, I have spoken to the king, who looks with great favor on our match. He will allow me to attend you at meals and at chapel. He has even agreed that if Princess Joanna can spare you one afternoon, I may take you riding.”

  “To what end, Sir Geoffrey?” She now suspected this scheme would not be to her liking. It put her too much in his company.

  “So that we may talk and pass time together as much as possible. Thus we will become very well acquainted, my lady.” His face exuded kindness, his voice gentleness and warmth. “I wager by the end of the fortnight, you will know me well enough to look forward to our nuptials as eagerly as I.”