Page 35 of Betrothal

Acutely aware that this was their first dance together, Alyse found it almost impossible to keep her eyes forward as propriety demanded. She darted glances at Geoffrey as they moved through the deliberate steps, her blood singing with each glimpse of his elegant figure. Hand and hand—the heat they generated threatened to set her ablaze—they stepped to the slow beat, now forward, now backward, slowly making their way around the Great Hall. Again, the yearning overtook her to belong to this man utterly and intimately. To be his in every way possible before it was too late. But for the grace of God, tonight could have been too late. He could have been killed today, and she would never have known the joy of belonging to him completely.

She wanted to remember every moment of this dance, to be able to savor each one later, but the flickering light, the heat of the chamber, the intensity of the music and her own thundering heart worked to make the dance a swirl of impressions—riotous and fleeting. When the music ended, Alyse’s head still reeled.

Geoffrey turned smartly toward her and bowed low, and she curtsied in return. Then he took her hand and kissed it. Her breath came faster, and her heart thudded in her ears as a full flush of heat rose in her face. The touch of his lips on her skin fought like fire and ice: she first burned then trembled as chills raced through her body. She barely heard the thunderous applause and cheers of the assembly.

After what seemed an age, he straightened. He flicked his eyes over her face, as if searching for something then placed her hand over his and escorted her toward the dais along with the other couples. When they all reached the platform, they bowed again to the king and queen then the ladies ascended to their assigned places there, while the gentlemen returned to their tables.

Alyse had scarcely been seated when the musicians began their next piece, a lively tune for a farandole. She excused herself to the princess and Lady Carlyle and flew to the steps at the rear of the dais, eager not to miss a moment of her first dance with Thomas.

The events of the evening whirled through her head. The sincerity of Thomas’s apology. The heat of her encounter with Geoffrey. Now the long awaited dance—a dream at last come true. Although, she should not, mayhap, relish this dance so thoroughly.

I should be more eager to dance once more with my love.

Still, the anticipation of a lively dance with a handsome partner—

“Ooof.” Lost in her thoughts, Alyse sped down the steps and slammed into a courtier standing at the corner of the platform. The blow to his chest had enough force to make him grunt. Her own breath left her as she looked up into the dark, smoldering eyes of Guy de Valere.

She staggered back, gasping to pull the needed air into her lungs.

What is he doing here?

“Demoiselle Alyse.” His eyes glittered in the smoky torchlight. “I have been waiting for you, cherie. You are exquisite as always.” He glanced up and down her frame, seeming to take in every detail of dress and form. Guy had ever appreciated the many charms of a woman.

“It is good to see you once again, Guy. It has been many years, has it not?” She glanced around, hoping Thomas would be coming to claim his dance, but their position prohibited her from seeing. Or being seen.

“Too long, cherie. You have been buried up in the north for many years. And now your father tells me you are to travel to Spain.”

“Yes, I am in Princess Joanna’s retinue. A singular honor.” She craned her neck, hoping for a glimpse of someone who would rescue her. “I must find my partner for this dance. ’Twill be discourteous if I do not appear.” Guy had been a persistent suitor at home; she would wager he had not changed. She dodged around him, bent on escape, only to have him snag her arm.

“Dance the next with me then, Alyse.”

“But I—” He squeezed her elbow hard, stopping her protest. “Of course, Guy. One dance. But I have promised the rest to Geoffrey.”

“I thank you, cherie. Now allow me to escort you to your partner.” He trapped her hand against his body and strode out into the Great Hall, forcing her to trot along at his side. She immediately saw Thomas at her usual table, speaking with Maurya and Sir John.

“There, Guy.” She managed to steer him toward her partner, grateful Geoffrey had not yet put in an appearance. Thomas looked up as she approached, his eyebrows swooping up in a question though otherwise his face remained unchanged. Relief washed over her—she would be safe now. For a time, at least.

As they neared the trestle, she relaxed and managed to slip her hand from Guy’s grasp. She headed directly to Thomas, took his hands and nodded toward the center of the Hall where the lines for the dance were forming.

“I beg pardon, Thomas, for my tardiness. Let us make haste to join the—”

Pressure from his hand arrested her. He inclined his head to the opposite side of the room. “We will have a raging bull upon us in a moment.” She spun around to see Geoffrey storming toward them, his strides lengthening with each step. Thomas’s brown eyes snapped with amusement. “Be ready to make your introductions, lest we have a joust of a different sort displayed here this evening.”

She closed her eyes briefly and prayed for strength. How did she manage to become the center of so many spectacles when she tried so hard to avoid them? She nodded and tried to smile naturally as Geoffrey, his face twisted into a thunderous scowl, strode up to them.

“My lord,” she smiled at Geoffrey, disregarding his glower, “I would present to you an old acquaintance from France. A neighbor from my home in Calais whom I have known for many years. Sir Guy de Valere.” She tried to keep the exchange brief and to the point, but the lust for blood still shone in Geoffrey’s eyes. He must have seen her and Guy come from behind the dais together. Did he suspect her of making a tryst with the man? How could he believe she would do such a thing? What had she done to deserve such mistrust?

I pray such antics will cease when we are wed.

Her dance with Thomas was about to commence. Should she cry off and stay to calm the brewing storm?

Before she could open her mouth to suggest it, Thomas took her arm. “I believe you are now promised to me, my lady? I, too, am jealous of my time with you.”

Alyse gasped at his bold words, and darted a look at Geoffrey, fearing a murderous response.

He worked to compose his face, though his eyes shot daggers at his friend. “By all means, Thomas, avail yourself of my lady’s company in the dance.” His jaw twitched, as though he bit back other words. “I will find amusement aplenty here with Sir Guy.”

His words dropped a cold pall over her.