Page 74 of The Favourite

Her face reddened at once. “Well … yes,” she agreed in strangled tones. “Why did you tell him that?”

Alisander paused in the act of lifting his goblet to his lips. “I get these strange fancies now and again.”

Jane swallowed. “So, you did not mean it then?” she asked in a small voice.

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Why Jane, do you want me to flatter and make love to you?” he asked. “I would be delighted to do so.”

She clutched her goblet so tightly that he was surprised she did not snap the stem. “No,” she said, lowering her gaze. “That was not my intent. It just seemed such a bizarre thing for you to have said.”

Another woman would have forced a tinkling laugh at this point, but Jane just was not capable of such a thing. For some reason, that realization affected him strangely.

“Topazes,” he found himself admitting huskily. “Your eyes look like topazes, Jane, blue ones. I have always thought so.”

“Topazes,” she repeated in such wonderment that he could not tear his eyes away from her. Her expression was so … Words failed him.

He had only seen her face wear that expression once before. When was that? It took him a moment to remember. It had been on that occasion when the Queen had singled her out for praise that very first time. It must be some four years ago or thereabouts. He had not realized it, but that look on her face must have remained ever since, etched on his brain.

Gods. Had she been so neglected of praise that it affected her always this strongly? And deep down, had he wanted, ever since that day, to see that same look on her face because of him? The dawning suspicion became a certainty as his heart beat so loudly that he was sure she would hear it.

You fool, Alisander, he thought in disbelief. He knew he hid a lot from others, but he generally did not hide things from himself! He should tear his gaze away from her face. He ought to say something flippant, maybe bring up her aunt’s outrageous letter. That would bring her guard back up and wipe that vulnerable look from her face.

Instead, he whispered her name and, leaning forward, sealed his lips to hers. Jane let him. When he drew back and removed the goblet from her grasp, setting it down on the bedside table, she remained quiet and still. He carefully lifted the linen square, full now of walnut shells, and placed that, too, next to their discarded goblets, then the empty dishes. Turning back to Jane, he asked, “Will you take off your mantle, wife?”

Instead of answering, she simply tugged the garment from her shoulders and began fussily folding it before he closed the distance between them, bundling it up and dropping it over the edge of the bed. “Alisander,” she murmured in protest.

“It’s too ugly to touch your skin. We’ll have the tailor make you something fit for purpose.”

“Too ugly?” she repeated, startled but a sudden impulse gripped him.

“Stay there,” he said, practically leaping from the bed and making for his dressing room. When he returned moments later, she was still sat staring.

“What are you—?”

He held up his hand to show her the jeweled choker and the longer matching carcanet. “You see,” he said, once more joining her on the bed, “I had these pieces commissioned with you in mind.”

She gasped. “Topazes?”

“They are. You permit?”

She nodded and he reached around her neck to fasten first the collar and then the longer necklace. She kept her gaze on his face. “Do they match?” she asked, reaching up to touch one of the large blue stones.

She meant her eyes. He hesitated. Not at this precise moment, but how to explain in a way Jane would not take offense? “All the stones are perfectly matched,” he said, deliberately misunderstanding her.

“And do they—do they look as you imagined they would?” she asked tentatively.

The sober-hued gown was all wrong; she wore no shoes, and he had never dreamt that her hair could look thus. “Yes and no,” he admitted slowly, wondering why he never told her easy lies. He excelled at lying. He enjoyed the inventiveness too. Somehow though, he was finding it was more rewarding to tell Jane the truth. “When I say I had you in mind, I did not expect you would ever wear them. I just … took you for my inspiration.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding a little crestfallen. She lifted her chin. “Did you intend them for one of your lovers, then?”

Alisander was startled. So startled, he once again told the truth. “No. I don’t actually do that,” he found himself explaining. “Give precious gifts I mean.”

“I suppose that would take more time and effort than you’ve ever invested in a love affair.” Her tone had a definite edge to it.

“Truthfully, I don’t think I’ve had a love affair before,” he replied thoughtfully. “I’ve retained the services of a mistress or two, which must be a different thing, I think. They were paid well, but I never felt remotely inclined to buy them presents.”

“Well, thank you for your candor, my lord, but I do not wish to hear all the sordid details,” Jane said, reaching behind her neck for the clasp to remove the necklace.

At this, he shoved her back onto her pillows, pinning her beneath him. He let her feel his full weight bearing down on her. No doubt, she felt his arousal too. There was no subtlety about an aroused male lying on top of you. Jane gasped, her eyes flashing up at him.