Page 7 of Betrothal

Lord Braeton’s eyes flashed with an impish gleam. “Indeed, Lady Alyse, I scarce think we need wait for your marriage to become better acquainted. I would know you better now.”

Alyse gasped as she grasped the double meaning and prayed no one else at the table took heed of his words. Did she have wits enough left to put the man in his place? No. All courtly banter fled her mind; she just stood there, wondering how life had managed to deal her so many blows in such a short space of time. Would Sir Geoffrey now accuse her of a particular regard for his friend? Had he heard of her unfortunate words this morning? She glanced fearfully up at the huge man beside her, awaiting the signal of his displeasure.

“Thomas!” The censure in Geoffrey’s voice aimed squarely at his friend, not his bride-to-be, and Alyse could breathe again. “Would you seduce my lady before my very face?” His disapproval was mocking, but she detected a subtle undertone of truth to it.

“Only if it could not be accomplished behind your back, Geoffrey!” Thomas laughed, moving his words into the realm of fashionable banter.

Geoffrey continued in this vein with his friend, though Alyse prayed he would take her back to her place before she collapsed. Her mind fixed on thoughts of respite, she started when Lord Braeton rose, plucked her hand from its place atop Geoffrey’s and raised it to his lips. “Fair lady, I wish you great joy in your coming marriage. May Sir Geoffrey prove himself worthy of so lovely a maid.”

Her breath caught in anticipation of the fire of his lips, but her eagerness changed to bewilderment when his kiss did not arouse her in the least. Disappointed and puzzled, Alyse paid no attention as he returned her hand to Geoffrey’s arm. The unexpected shock as her bare skin met his made her tense. A fiery sensation coursed through her body, turned her blood molten.

She jerked her head up to stare at Geoffrey, amazed he did not feel it too. But perhaps he did. A slight widening of his eyes and the deepening of their color to darkest sapphire revealed that something had stirred him as well. The unknown look she had observed twice before had returned. Shocked, she finally recognized it: desire.

Alyse’s world reeled. Was that the scorching sensation? Did she look at Sir Geoffrey that way when they touched? Her breath quickened.

Dear Lord, do I desire him?

And had everyone in the room seen it? She longed to sink behind the table, safely away from the court’s attention. But she could not escape. On Geoffrey’s arm, she was helpless to save herself. For once, however, he seemed to understand her need. He nodded at Lord Braeton’s compliment then escorted her to her seat next to Anne. She flashed him a grateful smile, the first real one she had given him.

Geoffrey returned it but kept his distance. “Remember, my lady, I am to be your Hercules and attempt the task you set me. I pray I can give you the boon you seek.” With a flourish of his hand, he bowed low and retreated to his place across the Hall, managing to draw Lord Braeton back with him.

Alyse released a long sigh, unaware she had been holding her breath until Geoffrey quit her company. Sorely drained by the evening’s events, she seized her cup and drank thirstily.

Anne glanced at Geoffrey’s retreating figure then regarded her with bright, mocking eyes. “So, Alyse, at last you have your answer. What say you to your father’s choice?”

Alyse opened her mouth but words failed her. She lowered her face to her hands, uncertain whether to laugh or cry at the question to which she had no reply at all.

Chapter 3

“So you finally got your wish, Alyse?” Anne’s caustic voice oozed sarcasm, and betrayed more than a touch of envy. Seated on the bed they shared, she brushed her hair with hard, determined strokes.

“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.”