Betrayal (Book 2: Time Enough to Love) (7 page)

BOOK: Betrayal (Book 2: Time Enough to Love)
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Ch
apter 7

 

Alyse awoke early the next morning, unusually refreshed. She stretched, opened her eyes, and shrieked. Thomas’s honey-brown eyes stared at her from less than three inches away.

He smiled broadly and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Did you sleep well, my sweet?”

Scenes from the night before crashed into her mind, bringing heat to her face. She took a deep breath and willed them away.
Think of this morning
. “Aye, my lord. I did.”

“That is good to hear, for we have much to do today.” He drew her closer. Her breath came faster as his mouth found hers, his lips hot and moist and sweet.

It was over in seconds, leaving her strangely unsatisfied. He threw back the covers and slid to the floor. When he glanced at her, he laughed. Only then did she realize her lips were still puckered from his kiss.

“Do not dawdle, madam, for we must be up and on the road in good time.” He stopped, and his voice took on a silky tone. “Unless there is reason to tarry in bed this morning?” He took a step back toward her. “We could delay our departure, if you wish?”

Alyse saw the unspoken question in his gaze and hastily climbed out of bed. “Nay, Thomas. I have no reason to delay.”

He laughed and turned away to begin dressing.

Alyse made to follow suit, going to her chest, then frowned. “Where are we going?” She drew a fresh shift over her head.

“To my estate in
Sussex. I must arrange my affairs ere we sail, so the king has given us leave to meet the party in Portsmouth in a se’night.”

“Oh.” She had expected to continue her customary service to the princess. ’Twould help her adjust gradually to this new life as Thomas’s wife, mixing the familiar with the strange. This change in arrangements, which would keep them alone together for days, threw her into confusion.

Distracted by visions of this constant companionship, she drew out a gown of yellow linen. “Will this be acceptable attire for the journey?”

“Aye, if you can ride in it. I would have you ride with me at least part of the way, my lady, if you have a mind to. We may then avail ourselves of the excellent weather and I of your charming company. The carriage will be there if you tire.”

Her spirits rose at his words. “Oh, Thomas, I would very much like to ride with you. ’Twould be such fun.” She all but danced on her toes in eagerness. “I have had little chance to ride these many months and have sorely missed it.” She sent him a heartfelt smile. “Thank you!” Impetuously, she reached up to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You are most welcome, my dear.” He returned the smile, though his eyes held a peculiar gleam. “So, will this gown serve for riding?”

“Aye, it will.” She hastily made her ablutions, humming under her breath with excitement. The promise of a ride had brightened her day considerably.

When she was ready, he offered his arm and led her down to the courtyard just as the sun rose. Thomas stopped at a well-proportioned chestnut mare with a white blaze down her nose and two white stockings.

Alyse’s mouth dropped open, and she dashed toward her waiting mount to run a soft hand down the noble nose and pat the sleek, proud neck. “She is beautiful, Thomas!”

“She is yours.” She gasped and clamped her hand to her mouth to contain a squeal of joy. “A wedding present to you from His Majesty, the king.”

“From the king!” She stood stock still, the significance of the gift washing through her, and her elation cooled.

He was trying to make amends for the true husband he had taken from her.

She shook her head. Such unkind thoughts about the king were dangerous. And whatever had gone before, Thomas was now her husband in truth.

Alyse closed her eyes and choked back a sob. She had tried so diligently not to think of Geoffrey these past weeks. The saving grace of the wedding and last night had been the confusion created by the ceremony, the feast, and the bedding. After Thomas had disrobed, the sight of him—and the feel of his body on hers—had banished all other thoughts.

Only when he had suggested she pretend he was Geoffrey did those memories break through. She had cursed him then for bringing back her heartache, though he had not meant to hurt her. He had merely wanted her to be able to play her part in the false consummation. And it had worked, although not as he had perhaps expected. Everything about Thomas—his touch, his scent, the feel of his body on hers—had differed from her experience with Geoffrey. That difference had allowed her to push the memories aside once more and fix her attention on the counterfeit.

And she had to be grateful for his unquestioning acceptance of her decision not to lie with him. It had been a harder decision to make than she had expected; her long hesitation before giving him her answer attested to that. Lady Carlyle’s presence, of course, had been a factor. Jealously had burned strong in both of them last night. But Thomas was her husband, and even though she was not in love with him, she did not want him to stray. Mayhap she should have said aye to his question. Should have put Geoffrey behind her and started a new life. But she could not make herself say the word. Jealous or not, she needed more time before she could agree to that final betrayal of her love.

“Alyse?” Thomas had finished checking the girths and now stood before her. “What is wrong, sweet?”

The genuine concern in his voice smote her conscience. Without a word, she threw her arms around his waist. He was a good man. The circumstances were not his fault, any more than they were hers or Geoffrey’s.

“Oh, a sudden sadness at the changes afoot, ’tis all.” She released him and dashed the tears from her eyes.

“They are many, ’tis true. And here is another, cheerier one for you to consider.” He hoisted Alyse up onto the horse and settled her comfortably astride. “Will you name your mount? She had some outlandish long name. The stable lad told me, but I have forgotten.” Thomas swung up onto his charger, Falcon.

“I can name her?” She forgot her tears as the new task engaged her. “I must think on it then. I will find the perfect name for the perfect horse.” She smiled at him as she patted the warm brown neck before her.

The morning had regained some of its splendor. A good omen for the beginning of their journey.

* * * *

Thomas chuckled as they rode out through the gates and into the countryside. Women, in his experience, ever loved a good mount between their legs, be it four-legged or two. Alyse seemed no different, at least where the horse was concerned. She appeared delighted by the gift and the chance to claim the animal as hers. Thank goodness the distraction had worked.

Her weepiness puzzled him, though it might have been an indication that she was indeed with child. He sighed. Such an occurrence would be unfortunate in several ways. ’Twould be a strain on Alyse in view of the constant traveling over the course of the coming months. Indeed, she could lose the child at any time between now and their arrival in Spain. Which would perhaps be a blessing, disagreeable as the thought may be. If the child proved a boy, he would have to accept him as his heir, though not his true son. He had known this when he asked to wed her, and he had done so without hesitation. In the clear light of day, however, the truth of the circumstances ate at him.

He shook off the deepening melancholy. As the matter surely rested in God’s hands, ’twould do no good to fret over it. Instead, he cast a glance at his wife, a most pleasing sight in the brilliant morning sunshine. Her straight back and good seat and hands indicated an accomplished horsewoman. Although the mount was unfamiliar, she handled her well and with confidence. He had misjudged her in many ways earlier this summer. Filled with admiration, Thomas resolved to praise her when they stopped.

When they reached the outskirts of London, he picked up the pace. Pushing the horses into a canter, they outstripped the carriage in short order. Alyse held her own in the saddle, although she had ridden but a little in the princess’s service. She laughed now and tossed her head, enjoyment of the ride in every movement. She had missed such outings, it seemed.

Sometime after midday, Thomas called a halt so they could share a quick luncheon on the side of the road. Only cheese and bread from the pack tied behind his saddle, but still a welcome respite from the dust of the road. They made short work of the victuals then stretched out in the shade of a towering oak.

As they lay resting, Alyse sat up. “What do you think of Mirabelle? As a name for the horse? It means ‘wonderful.’”

Thomas nodded. “Mirabelle is an excellent choice. The two of you certainly looked wonderful on the road this morning. You sit her well.”

“Thank you.” Her brilliant smile dazzled him. Stirred a hunger in his groin he ached to satisfy here and now. This woman confounded him. He had given her no notice during the first months of their acquaintance, and now her slightest movement set him aquiver with lust. Did proximity alone account for his changed interest? Or was there something more? Lord, he hoped not. Their lives were difficult enough without a deeper attraction distracting him.

He shrugged, dispelling the disturbing thoughts, and rose. “I fear we must be off if we are to make the inn at
Guildford before dark. We will not wait for the carriage if you are still willing to ride. Are you tired yet, my dear?”

She smiled as she got to her feet. “Nay, Thomas. I would ride longer with you this day. I have missed the feel of it and would not relinquish it now.”

“Aye, ’tis one of the joys of my life. But have a care, sweet. Do not overexert yourself. You say you have not ridden these many months. I would not have you in pain.”

“There is naught. I feel fine enough to race you to the first turn of the road!”

He laughed as they remounted, and Alyse made a good showing in their little competition. They then eagerly pressed on to the inn where they were to stay the night. After a good dinner, through which Alyse yawned constantly, they fell exhausted into bed.

* * * *

A dreadful moaning woke Thomas the next morning. He turned over to find his wife the source of the din.

“Alyse. What is the matter, sweet?” He rolled up on his side to look at her pinched face.

“Oh, ’tis my legs. And my back. And my…backside. Every move is an agony.” As she spoke, she shifted her bottom slightly and grimaced. “I fear I rode overmuch yesterday.”

Thomas sighed. “I feared that as well. How much movement can you bear? Can you raise yourself from the bed?”

She pushed herself up, wincing as she moved her lower body. “’Tis painful, but I can manage, although I doubt I can ride with you today.”

He grunted and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Mayhap next week, if you are lucky. Well, ’tis the carriage for you, my lady. On a well-padded cushion.”

Alyse made a face but nodded and began the slow process of dressing. In the end, the stairs proved too painful to attempt. Thomas carried her out to the carriage, disregarding her protests of humiliation. Despite his inclination to tease her about her affliction—he had warned her the day before—he decided the more gracious choice would be to say nothing. Mayhap join her in the carriage and see to her comfort as best he could.

They passed the day pleasantly in interesting conversation though they made poor time, due to the pace the carriage was forced to adopt. Anything above a slow jog jostled Alyse unmercifully. Aware of her distress, he brooded over a way to remedy her discomfort. And perhaps help his wooing of her as well. He would simply need to pounce when the time was right.

 

Ch
apter 8

 

It was well after dark when they finally arrived at Knowlton’s Keep. The jolting of the carriage had made the end of the journey a form of slow torture for Alyse. More than once they had hit a deep rut, sending her sore buttocks and thighs into spasms of pain. She tried valiantly to keep up her end of the conversation, but it became an exercise in agony.

As soon as the conveyance stopped, servants with lighted torches swarmed out of the house.

“Ross!” Thomas called loudly as he emerged from the carriage.

A middle aged servant ran up to him. “My lord.” He bowed his head. “We feared for your safety. ’Tis well after the time we expected you.”

“We are fine, Ross. Lady Braeton required a slower pace than anticipated. See to a hot bath in the master’s chamber at once.”

The man hurried away, and Alyse silently blessed Thomas as the best of husbands.

Although stiff, she nevertheless insisted on walking to the bedchamber, albeit slowly and leaning heavily on his arm. When the bath was readied, he grazed her cheek with a kiss and left her with a serving girl to attend her. She sank into the hot water, relaxing inch by inch as the warmth invaded her limbs. She lay back, enjoying the enveloping heat too much to go to the trouble of bathing. She simply wanted to rest and let the water soak the hurts from her body.

Her mind drifted, remembering all that had passed between her and Thomas over the past two days. She sighed and shifted against the tub’s wooden planks. All his conversations led straight toward the marriage bed. Thank the Lord he had promised not to force her. She had no cause to doubt the word of a gentleman, but she did not doubt he would try to beguile her to come willingly to his bed. His skills in that area were great. Her resolve had weakened already, and they had been married but two days.

Alyse stretched and dipped down until the water covered her breasts, her thoughts lingering on her husband. Would it be so wrong if she submitted to Thomas’s wishes and bedded him? Handsome, kind, considerate, and exciting, he would likely make it a pleasant experience. His lips certainly made her feel—

No.

She slid further beneath the cooling water, hiding herself. She would not think of such things. Not now.

With devastating swiftness, the pain of Geoffrey’s betrayal leaped upon her. Her chest ached so she could not draw breath. A low moan began in the back of her throat, which gave way to scalding tears. They stung like fire as they coursed down her cheeks. Struggling against her aching muscles, she managed to stand and step out of the tub. She grabbed a linen drying cloth, wrapped it around herself, and threw herself face down on the bed, abandoning herself to grief.

She must have fallen asleep, for a painful ache in her leg awakened her as someone kneaded the muscles of her calf. The sharp hurt changed to a dull throbbing with the ministration, as sore muscles stretched. The phantom hands rubbed all up and down her leg. Her foot received similar attention. This servant’s wages needed to be doubled. The exquisite feelings soothed her soul. “Whoever you are, please do not stop.”

“I am, as always, yours to command, my lady,” came the unexpected voice of her husband.

“Thomas!” Alyse squeaked. Wincing, she rolled up to sit facing him, indignant.

“I can hardly continue as requested, Alyse, if you remain in this position.” His tone admonished her, though his eyes danced with merriment. “Lie back down and let me attend to the other leg.”

“’Tis not seemly that you see me thus. And as for touching me...”

His stare cooled as he lifted a glass of wine from a nearby table. “Indeed, madam? Let me remind you, I saw you completely unclothed on our wedding night. And as for touching you…” He snorted. “I scarce think my hands so outrageous when my cock has done much more.”

She gasped at the memory of his hot staff sliding over her belly.

“’Tis too late to shut the stable door, when the horse is lost.” His gaze softened. “And if you expect to ride at all while we are in
Sussex, you will let me attend to your sore muscles that you may return to the saddle.”

“Huh,” she grunted, unconvinced. Though the rogue spoke the truth, she had believed after that night their arrangement precluded any intimate contact she did not initiate. Apparently, the one thing Thomas expected her to withhold was the ultimate act of husband and wife. Everything else—including this indecent rubbing of her legs—he assumed as his right.

“You assured me this was not a marriage in a true sense.” She drew the damp linen drying cloth more securely around her under his penetrating gaze. “Not until I gave leave for it to be so.”

“Aye, madam, we married for your convenience alone. ’Twas certainly not for mine.” He appraised her icily, watching her every move.

She opened her mouth for a stinging retort then closed it. What he said was true. He had been under no obligation to offer her the protection of his name. And rather than according him a boon of any sort, their marriage had put constraints upon him. Because of her, he was now bound for Spain. Bound to her as well, where he might have wed another he truly cared for. Neither of them had gotten a shrewd bargain.

Gathering her patience, she lowered her voice and tone. “You startled me, ’tis all. I thought you were the serving girl.”

“But ’tis, in fact, your husband who attends you. You will become accustomed. Now roll over.” The command brooked no further argument.

Alyse viewed him with pique and sadness. True, he had obeyed the letter of his promise, but he had wriggled around the intent of it somehow. ’Twas his nature to be cunning. Unfortunately, that was also part of his charm.

She sighed. What did it gain her to remain aloof? He was her husband; she had willingly spoken her vows. It was his right to touch her as he chose. And in the end, she did want to ride again. With a groan at her easy acquiescence, she flopped back into her prone position on the bed.

* * * *

Thomas smiled, a small triumphant smile, and set his glass back down. He bent and brushed a kiss against his wife’s nape. “’Tis wise to pick which battles are important enough to fight, my sweet. This one, as you so wisely concluded, was not worth the candle.”

He sat on the side of the bed, poured sweet-smelling oil onto his hands, and began again on the leg nearest him, this time starting at her thigh. He laughed softly at her involuntary gasp as he grasped the tense muscle so near her intimate place. “Fear not, sweet. This will hurt, but will give you relief.”

Thomas dug his fingers in deep, kneading the muscles, loosening the tension caused by the wild ride the day before. Alyse cried out, but he soothed her with soft words. He let his fingers travel lower to her calf then lower still to her small foot. His ministrations did not draw sighs as before, although her muscles relaxed and she made no further protest, but he remained convinced he pleased her.

He took a small sip of wine then began on the other leg. Ah, he reveled in the touch of skin so soft and smooth, warm and pliable, the color of pale cream. A wave of desire hit as he slid his fingers downward, but he restrained his urges. ’Twas not his intent this evening.

By the time he again reached her calf, he thought he heard a small moan of delight, and redoubled his efforts on her foot, rubbing it gently in both hands, flexing and rolling the ankle joint. Each toe was given detailed attention until Thomas could have sworn he heard something akin to a purr issue from his wife.

He laid the foot down and moved back to the head of the bed, bending close over her. Although her eyes were closed, a small but unmistakable smile played over her lips. “Did you say something, wife?”

“Nnnnooo.” The satisfied murmur rumbled from deep inside her.

Thomas chuckled and decided to extend his victory ever so slightly. He rested his hands on Alyse’s shoulders and resumed his gentle ministrations there. Hearing no protest, he continued down her small, elegant back. When he finished, he doubted he had been able to assuage all her hurts—he had not attempted to remove the drying cloth and venture lower—but he hoped he had at least soothed some of the stiffness that had plagued her earlier in the carriage. Now limp, she could have a restful sleep this night—her first night in his home. Their home.

He shifted position and sat with his back to the pillows. Deftly, he rolled her over and into his lap, the back of her head resting on his chest.

“Alyse?” She might have actually been asleep.

“Hhhhhmmmm?”

So, drowsy then, but still aware. “Shall I have our dinner sent up before we retire, my dear?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Her words came out low and slow. Then she startled him by twining her hand with his, bringing it to rest around her waist.

He waited several minutes, savoring the intimate moment, before disentangling himself, and placing the now-sleeping Alyse under the covers. He brushed another kiss on her brow and went to order their dinner.

When he returned, she still slept, and he pondered the wisdom of waking her. But she should not sleep in the wet drying cloth. He opened her trunk, removed a white shift, and went to the bed. After drawing down the covers, he lifted her and unwound the cloth. Surprisingly, she did not wake, and for the second time, Thomas could feast his eyes on her lovely form.

Always one to appreciate a woman’s body, he delighted in his wife’s figure. While it did not conform to his usual tastes, still it pleased him well. The flawless skin, smooth and soft, begged for his touch once more. As did her breasts, round and firm—a goodly size for his hand—with rosy nipples that set his pulse to racing. Her waist was narrow, almost too narrow.

Thomas frowned. Mayhap she would fill out a bit here at the Keep. Though pray God she would keep her belly flat with no babe to swell her until he could be sure it was his own. His gaze traveled lower, to deliciously rounded hips flowing into the sleek thighs he had been caressing a moment ago. He swallowed hard at the sight of the tangle of dark curls where her thighs met. Almost fully erect, he clenched his fists and bent to the task of hiding all this loveliness under the shift. Soon, he again tucked her into their bed. Sleep was probably more important to her than food.

He ordered his own bath then dined alone, although his gaze kept straying to the enticing woman in his bed.

She had never been his choice. Much as he liked and respected Alyse, he would never have saddled himself with such an innocent wife had it not been for the desperate pleading of his friend. Geoffrey had been distraught the night of his wedding, but the conference they held before Thomas left the next morning had bound him to this grim course.

“I would ask you to wed Alyse in my stead.”

How much that request had cost his friend, Thomas could not imagine. Yet he made it, wanting only the best for Alyse and their child, if one had been conceived. The selfless man had laid out all the advantages to such a marriage—the wealth of her dowry, the alliance with a powerful family in France, and the assurance Alyse would be safe from an unkind husband—until Thomas could deny him no longer.

’Twas true he would need to marry eventually, although he had been putting it off for several years. Mayhap this was the best course for him after all. He harbored no illusions about the marriage he would undertake with Alyse; however, with her, he could pursue a course of mutual respect and affection with a woman he truly honored. If very lucky, they would find some passion in the marriage bed. Not ideal perhaps, but no worse than any other marriage would be. One could hope for love once, but never twice, and as he had had his portion long ago, one woman was much the same as another.

Thomas sighed and drained his cup. He arose, stripped quickly, and stepped into the bath. His tensions eased as the warm water enveloped him. The worst part of the bargain was the necessity of leaving
England. He had hoped to raise his sons on the land they would inherit, as his father had done. Yet Alyse must attend the princess. Therefore, he would sail with her to Spain. Thank Christ the exile was not permanent. He had persuaded the king to allow them to return in five years’ time. Enough for the princess to settle into her marriage, yet not so much that his children would not know their heritage. If indeed there were children.

He glanced at the sleeping Alyse. Time would heal her grief; it had done so for him. Mayhap he could shorten that span as well. There had been few women who had held out against his charms when he had set his mind to woo them. Perhaps everything would turn out for the best after all. He plied the soap vigorously then rinsed and dried.

On the verge of donning his shirt, he glanced at his wife. Last evening he had slept in it, out of respect for Alyse and her sore state. Tonight was their first night in his ancestral home, however. Time to assert his usual state of undress. He left off the shirt, blew out the candle, and climbed naked beneath the sheets next to his wife.

Thomas lay on his back, well over to his side of the bed, one arm beneath his head. He stared into the darkness above him, fighting the urge in his groin. Lady Carlyle’s farewell the night before his marriage seemed a lifetime ago. Most likely, he would now lead the monkish life he had teased Geoffrey about until he could seduce his little wife into his bed.

He looked toward her sleeping form. Well, she was already in his bed. Now he needed her willing.

BOOK: Betrayal (Book 2: Time Enough to Love)
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