Betrothal (Time Enough To Love) Page 4

  Alyse froze as though ice covered her. Whatever she had said to him last night, this was not the result she had expected. She tried to remember what she had asked of him, but the thought of the next fortnight spent constantly in his company confused her. A nagging, rational part of her mind insisted that what he proposed was sensible and would accomplish the task handily, but she did not want to do it. She had counted on that time to herself—her last days of freedom—before she had to spend the rest of her life with him.

  The dread must have shown on her face, for Geoffrey leaned forward and his eyes searched hers. “My lady, you grow pale. Have I distressed you yet again?”

  She looked at him but barely saw anything.

  Escape. She had to flee while she could.

  “My lord, I believe your plan has merit.” She rose, bringing him to his feet as well. “I fear, however, that our time this morning is at an end. I must go now to Mass in the chapel.” Sanctuary.

  “As must I, my lady,” he reminded her and offered his arm. “May I have the honor of escorting you there?”

  No escape.

  Alyse nodded, resigned, as he placed her hand atop his sleeve. Even this small amount of time alone would be denied her. With as good grace as she could muster, she allowed him to lead her from the Great Hall.

  * * * *

  Geoffrey knew he had displeased her once more and cursed inwardly. He was ruining this opportunity but could not fathom how to repair the damage. She walked beside him woodenly, her hand like a dry stick on his arm.

  I have faced enemy troops with less trepidation than this.

  As they wound their way toward the chapel, thoughts of battle strategies filled his head and he decided to seize the offensive tack. He doubted he could make things worse.

  “You have been at court but a short while, Lady Alyse? I did not meet you here last Christmas.” Not only a ploy to get her to talk, but to learn about her as well. If she would take the bait.

  “No, sir. We did not meet.” She looked up at him and some of the fear retreated from her face. “I arrived at Windsor but two months ago. Before that, I was in the household of Lord Penburthy, in service to his wife, Lady Elizabeth. I have lived in the north these past ten years.”

  He had not heard her speak so much at one time. Her low-pitched voice had a melodious quality—a pleasure to listen to. “Were you excited, then, to come to court?” Geoffrey experienced a giddy rush when he saw a tentative smile play about her lips.

  “Aye, my lord, I came here eagerly. ’Tis very grand, especially after Merwyck Castle, near the Scottish border. A place beautiful, but wild. The castle did not have as many comforts as I find here.”

  “What comforts?” He was fascinated by the way she blossomed before his eyes.

  “Oh, warmth for one. Being so far north, the castle stayed cold always, even in summer. There were four other girls who served Lady Elizabeth, and we slept all in one room. Very noisy at night. To share with only one person here is like heaven.”

  Geoffrey held his breath, for as soon as the words were out she colored prettily and darted a fearful glance at him. He had valiantly bitten back his amusement, yet still she noticed.

  A delicate black eyebrow lifted. “You have a comment, my lord?”

  Geoffrey laughed. As they arrived at the chapel, he took her hand, feeling that almost familiar rush of fire through his. “I would say, my lady, you are indeed perceptive. To share a room, or bed, with one other person can be like heaven.” He lifted her fingers to his lips, tingles firing off like sparks, and handed her into the chapel.

  He watched with a hunger in his belly as Alyse’s luscious blue-clad form sped down the aisle to her place with the princess. Before she pushed past Lady Anne, she paused to throw a look over her shoulder at him. He nodded his farewell, intensely aware that his hunger would go unappeased a while longer.

  Well-pleased with his success during the morning, he made his way over to his accustomed place with the king’s other courtiers, to hear the service and plan his next strategy.

  Chapter 5

  Sitting at table with Sir John, Maurya and Anne for the evening meal, Alyse found herself again peering around the Great Hall, though now she searched for a different courtier in the smoky light. That a mere day earlier she had searched instead for Lord Braeton gave rise to misgivings. Was she so inconstant in her affection? Or had Geoffrey Longford managed to make a bigger impression on her than she had thought possible in such a short time? Had her feelings for Lord Braeton, so intense last evening, vanished with this morning’s encounter with her betrothed?

  The mere thought of the earl’s name sent a shiver down her spine, and she shot a glance at his table. He sat there as usual, engaged in conversation with Patrick and Sir Robert Spencer. His low laughter carried across the Hall, and the familiar leap of excitement caught her breath.

  Not so inconstant after all.

  Alyse shook her head, trying to squash any further traitorous thoughts. She was betrothed to Sir Geoffrey, like it or not, and had to honor the man despite her misgivings.

  Her uncertainties had been somewhat dispelled by his pleasant conversation this morning, along with the effort he had made to set her at ease when in his company. His questions had persuaded her he wished to know more of her, which mollified her not a little.

  She glanced around the room again for sight of Sir Geoffrey. Did she actually look forward to her betrothed’s company this evening? The thought unsettled her. Despite their conversation, she still knew little about him. And while he might have shown pretty manners earlier, she suspected such a physically powerful man could demand anything from her and expect his wishes to be heeded. Faced with these trepidations, she raised her cup for a soothing drink.

  “Good evening, Lady Alyse.”

  The familiar booming voice beside her startled a gasp out of her, forcing the ale down the wrong way. She sputtered, choked and coughed, fighting to breathe. Geoffrey stepped forward, rubbed her between her shoulders then gently struck her to bring the ale up.

  Sir John struggled to hold back laughter. “You see the effect you have on your betrothed, Geoffrey? An you do not mend your ways, you will be a widower in short order.”

  The tall knight grinned and wiped away the ale that dripped down Alyse’s face with the hanging sleeve of his dark green velvet tunic. “God deliver us, John. I am not married to the maid yet. Let us have some time together ere I must lose her.” She glared up at him, still coughing. “Indeed ’twas that very boon I came to seek tonight.”

  Lady Anne took up the jest. “You seek to lose your lady, Sir Geoffrey?”

  “Nay, Lady Anne!” he returned in mock horror. “I merely ask for time together with the lady as we dine, that we might become better acquainted. If you nobles can spare her, of course.”

  Anne turned a mocking eye toward her. “What say you, Lady Alyse? Would you have Sir Geoffrey as your companion at dinner tonight?”

  Much as Alyse would have liked to answer “no,” she knew it would serve no purpose in the end. Geoffrey’s plan was a good one, but Lord, his company exhausted her. She would need to have her wits about her to keep up the repartee that seemed to flow from his lips without effort.

  “Aye, Anne,” she said with a trace of impatience. “An it please you, I would dine with my lord this evening.” She cut her eyes sharply toward Geoffrey. “We have much to discuss, it seems, my lord. Foremost being a suitable way for a man to approach a woman so she is not drowned!”

  Lady Maurya managed to intervene. “Sir Geoffrey, you have our leave to dine with Alyse.” With twinkling eyes she added, “God help you!”

  Geoffrey laughed and offered her his arm.

  With a wary look at her escort, she stood, adjusted the folds of her long blue skirt so she wouldn’t trip and placed her arm on his. As they approached his table, Alyse trembled to see it still crowded with Sir Robert Spencer, Sir Patrick Sullivan and Sir Phillip de Mauley. And of course, Lord Braeton. She steeled
herself for an onslaught of banter from that noble. He had tried to sting her with his wit last evening, and she feared a like attempt now. In anticipation of his ribald humor, she studied him, trying to gauge his mood.

  At their approach, Geoffrey’s fellow courtiers scrambled to make a place for them in the middle of the table.

  “Good evening, Lady Alyse.” Sir Robert bowed and indicated the bench beside him. “Will you sit here by me, my lady?”

  “No, Sir Robert, I will have her here by me.” Patrick winked at her and grabbed her hand. She rolled her eyes at his audacity.

  “Gentles, I insist the lady sit nowhere but between me and her betrothed.” Lord Braeton’s commanding voice carried an undertone of menace.

  The other men sent up a discordant rumble, garnering curious looks from courtiers at nearby tables. Alyse glanced at the royal dais, and her stomach dropped to see the king’s attention drawn by their commotion. To become a spectacle in the raucous atmosphere of the Great Hall took some doing and was not the preferred way to obtain His Majesty’s notice. She returned her attention to her betrothed and bit her lip. Geoffrey had fixed the group with an ominous look from beneath lowered brows.

  God help us all!

  * * * *

  Towering over the men at the table, Geoffrey held up a hand to the courtiers, fixing his face into determined lines. They quieted, either out of respect for their friend or from his warning look as he stared them down

  “Gentles, I pray your patience. I agree it is meet that you are eager for the good company of Lady Alyse. I thank you for that compliment. But, as her intended husband, I claim first rites to her companionship this evening.”

  He plucked her hand from Patrick’s loosened grip and rubbed his thumb gently across her knuckles. She sucked in air at his touch, and he smiled to himself at the victory. What battles might he win if he could but get her alone for a time?

  A groan went up from his friends, but he continued. “We are hindered by but short acquaintance, and have need of conversation before the wedding.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, piercing each man by turn with his hard stare. A warning of serious consequences should they not acquiesce to his request.

  “Oh, come now, Geoffrey,” Thomas drawled. “Let us all make Lady Alyse welcome. You will have much time together after your marriage, whilst we bachelors will be left to sigh alone. You should not claim all the sport!”

  Geoffrey threw an indulgent smile at his friend. “Mayhap, Thomas, but you may make your addresses to my betrothed another time. I fear I must claim all of the lady’s attention at present. I would know her better ere we are wed.”

  Thomas’s eyebrow went up. “But Geoffrey, we would all know her better ere you are wed.”

  Geoffrey opened his mouth to answer Thomas’s bawdy comment, when a look at Alyse made him hesitate. Her face, suffused with redness, nevertheless showed a marked interest in the men’s exchange, especially Thomas’s barb. Her bright blue eyes gleamed at his friend, revealing her continued fascination with the man.

  The sight of her rapt face triggered a rush of antagonism Geoffrey had never experienced before.

  If she will favor Thomas then, by God, let us see if she can hold her own against him in this jest.

  He raised an eyebrow as he fought to speak lightly. “Indeed, what say you, my lady? Do you wish more knowledge of my friend or no?”

  * * * *

  At Lord Braeton’s suggestive tone, Alyse sent Geoffrey a questioning glance. She had expected him to put the man in his place or at least admonish him for such ribald talk. But perhaps he wished to test her mettle.

  Flattered he thought her so capable, she turned her attention to Lord Braeton and gave him her best courtier’s face: head tilted just so to the right, eyelids seductively half-closed, trace of a smile. The man had never given her this much regard before, and she aimed to make him sorry he had not.

  “My Lord Braeton, you do me honor to request my simple conversation, as do all you gentles.” Her voice high and light, Alyse nodded to the men at the table, who all stopped speaking and seemed to hang on her every word. “I fear, however, that I must, regrettably, decline your wish to know me better at this time. For I am charged to wed this man,” she laid her hand on Geoffrey’s arm, “and it is right that he should have what knowledge of me as can be rendered before the wedding.” She leaned forward and continued in a mock whisper to Lord Braeton. “For I am sure you know, my lord, that knowledge can be dangerous or delightful, depending on the skill of the scholar and the manner in which he imparts it.”

  The stunned look on Braeton’s face filled her with delight. He had apparently underestimated her. Perhaps he regretted that her father had not accepted his suit. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought. “Therefore, it is right that I accept my learning solely from my intended lord.”

  After a moment of shocked silence at the table, Lord Braeton threw back his head and laughed, long and hard. “Oh-ho, Lady Alyse, I see you have not only a golden wit, but a tongue of quicksilver as well.” With an exaggerated flourish, he made her a courtly bow then took her hand and kissed it. “Indeed, your price is above rubies.”

  Gratified by Lord Braeton’s compliment, Alyse turned to seek similar approval from Sir Geoffrey, but caught instead a scowl of disapproval. What on earth had she said to draw this response? Her delight at her first successful attempt at courtly wordplay faded, leaving her angry and bewildered. She had passed Lord Braeton’s test, but seemed to have failed her betrothed’s. What had she done wrong now? He had made it clear he wanted her to answer his friend’s teasing words. So what had displeased him?

  Will I ever be able to fathom the man?

  A strange, almost glaring, look passed between the two men then Lord Braeton shook his head. “I concede the day, Geoffrey, and the table. Make the most of your time with your lady, if you dare. I fear your ‘repentance’ has already begun.” He paused, appraising her as if seeing her for the first time.

  Surprised at his sudden interest, Alyse sent him a smile before turning to see Geoffrey’s scowl deepen even more. The evening had turned into more of a trial than she had anticipated.

  Recalling himself, Lord Braeton began to shoo the other courtiers toward another table in the Hall. As he passed close to Geoffrey, he leaned in and spoke for his friend’s ear only, though his voice carried enough for Alyse to hear him as well.

  “Your father may have done you the greatest service of your life, Geoffrey. Take care you cherish it.” He clapped a hand to the tall man’s shoulder then left to join his companions. His tone, as much as his words, sent a shiver through Alyse as new regret rose in her.

  Their end of the table, nearest the royal dais, now lay deserted. Geoffrey seated her with her back almost to the king, though the angle of her seat saved her from disrespect. He sat himself on a bench beside hers then leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes mere slits. He had not spoken a word to her since her exchange with Lord Braeton. That did not bode well, considering his current surly attitude.

  She glanced around, unnerved to discover they were all but alone together. Shaken at the thought, she looked to him for reassurance but instead found his smoldering eyes staring straight into hers. Unmistakable desire had replaced the menace in his face. Alyse gasped at the power of that look and a wave of panic washed through her. She tried to rise, to flee, but he shot out a hand and gripped her arm, forcing her to sit once more.

  “You would leave me so soon, my lady?” Geoffrey’s silken voice carried danger in it. “You have declared I am to know you better, Lady Alyse.” His eyes gleamed wickedly in the candlelight. “I think you must make good on that promise.”

  Chapter 6

  “How so, sir?” Her voice trembled, though her face remained composed.

  “Why, with conversation, my lady. How else?”

  Alyse released a sigh of relief and Geoffrey chuckled, for he had guessed the bent of her mind. Would
that that knowledge could be gained tonight. An image flashed through his mind of Alyse, in his bed, licking…tasting…touching those red lips to his… He shook himself and suppressed the pleasant daydream.

  “I presume from your sharp repartee with Thomas that you are both a scholar and a wit?” His mocking tone surprised him—a reaction, he supposed, to the unexpected skill she had shown in her use of language. He scowled. Unbidden, jealousy roiled in him at the memory of Thomas’s kiss on her hand. Such feelings were madness. His friend’s attentions were the courtly fashion—a game Geoffrey knew he played exceedingly well.

  “Lady Alyse?” She had taken so long to reply Geoffrey had to ask again. “Do you attend me, my lady?”

  The maid seemed to shake herself from a reverie and turned cautious eyes toward him. “Aye, my lord. I beg your pardon. My mind had… I am sorry, my lord.” She peered at him, pitiful and confused. “What did you ask of me?”

  Geoffrey snorted. “I think I have my answer, lady, yet I will ask again. Are you both a scholar and a wit?”

  She ventured a small smile. “’Tis hard to answer yea, my lord, having just proved my lack of wits to you. Yet I have some pretense to both charges when I am hard pressed, as you heard before with Lord Braeton.”

  “Yes, you did acquit yourself admirably with Thomas.” Too well for his taste. “But do you not care to trade banter with me, lady? Our conversations so far have not shown me your great skills in wordplay. Would you deny me this pleasure with you?”

  “Nay, my lord, I would deny you no pleasure.” Alyse stopped and clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in horror. Her face deepened to a brilliant shade of scarlet.

  Geoffrey’s bench thumped down on the rush-strewn floor, his blood heating at the import of her words. “Indeed, my lady! Shall we retire at once to my chamber?” He tried to restrain a lecherous grin as he watched her fight to recall those words. She was proving excellent sport in her attempts to placate him.