Betrothal (Time Enough To Love) (6 page)

“Nay, my lord, I remember it well but need to make sure you mean for me to address you with such familiarity on so short an acquaintance. Do remember, my lord, we have only just met.” She straightened on her bench and leaned forward, as if admonishing him.

“Aye, lady, you speak true. ’Tis scarce a day since first we became acquainted.” Geoffrey gave a scant nod of his head. “But we met at the announcement of our betrothal and two weeks hence you will share both my name and my bed.” His blue eyes darkened in that fearful and exciting way that set her heart to racing. “I therefore maintain that it is your duty now, in all obedience to your intended husband, to address me as I command.”

The reminder that soon they would be husband and wife brought Alyse’s high spirits back to earth with a jolt. Now those eyes said he played no game, and her wit deserted her once more.

Noting her silence, Geoffrey cheerfully pressed his attack. “Have you suddenly been struck dumb, madam? Is that the reason you cannot say a good, simple English name?”

Roused from her reverie, Alyse narrowed her eyes but spoke in honeyed tones. “
My lord
, I am unaccustomed to addressing men of short acquaintance so familiarly. I feared,
my lord
, that I might not give you the proper respect due you. But I see,
my lord
, your request is but another great compliment to me, to trust me with that which you hold so dear. Fear not, for you have taught me well,
my lord
. I acknowledge your great confidence in me,
my lord
, and in my judgment to use your name well, in its proper time and place.”

Geoffrey’s mouth gaped at this speech. She flashed him a look of triumph as she rose from her bench. Princess Joanna had just risen to retire, releasing Alyse from her duties, and she aimed to make good her escape. “I beg your leave to go now.” She nodded toward the princess and made as if to follow her.

In order to carry the field with flags flying, she had to execute a well-considered retreat. Something to impress upon him that his betrothed understood the rules of the game very well. And would play to win.

She glanced down at him, considering, then bent close, her cheek grazing the stubble on his. A slight turn of her head and her lips brushed his ear.

He ceased to breathe, sat so still he might have been a piece of carved statuary.

Then her soft whisper caressed the folds of his ear in a breath that stirred his hair: “Geoffrey.”

At which point she turned her back, though not before seeing his stunned face reveal himself the one struck dumb tonight.

Sunday morning Mass found Alyse dressed in her best gown, trying to make herself as small as possible while suffering the scrutiny of the entire assembled court. Today marked the first reading of the banns for her marriage to Sir Geoffrey Longford—an ordeal that bordered on torture.

Court custom decreed that the prospective bride and groom stand before the altar, at the bottom of the raised bema, while the priest read the banns to discern if any impediment to the marriage existed. A simple enough ritual but one that horrified Alyse. Every eye in the tightly packed congregation of courtiers seemed to stare straight at her. For too many agonizing minutes they perused her, judged her, stripped her bare. Her face had to be as red as a pomegranate
, but she could do nothing except stare stolidly ahead and pray for the trial to be over soon. After an eternity, the priest intoned the last words of the notice and they were allowed to return to their respective places. She slid in next to Anne and cursed the day she had met Geoffrey.

He had irked her even more than the gawking courtiers. If she had to bear this humiliation, her betrothed should have at least shared in her discomfiture. But when she had risked a look at him during the proceedings, she had been incensed to discover him grinning unashamedly. The wretch seemed to like the attention. Fuming, Alyse had fixed her gaze on the priest and tried to forget that she would have to endure the same martyrdom twice more.

After the benediction, as Alyse retreated from the chapel, someone grasped her arm. She turned, narrowing her eyes when she beheld her betrothed.

“Good morrow, Lady Alyse.” Geoffrey stopped short. “What is amiss, my lady? You look very unkindly for such a lovely morning.”

“What is amiss?” Alyse bristled, even more outraged that he did not immediately understand her fears. “You even need to ask what is
amiss
? Were you asleep when you stood before the altar that you did not see all the courtiers’ eyes on us? On me!” Her stomach clenched at the thought.

“You mean when the banns were read?”

Alyse gave him a withering look and stalked silently from the chapel.

“You did not wish to have the banns for our marriage read? Have you still no regard or trust for me then, Lady Alyse?” There was an undertone of pique in his voice.

They had reached the corridor outside the chapel, carried forward by the momentum of Alyse’s indignation. She turned to him, her mouth open, a stinging retort on her lips. Would he ever think only of himself? “’Tis not about—”

The sight of his face froze the words on her tongue. Only the tight, thin line of his lips betrayed his anger. Hurt, however, lurked deep in his eyes, summoned by his assumption of her continued rejection. He stood stoically ready to face her ire.

But it no longer existed.

Alyse sighed, her resentment draining away. “Nay, good my lord, never say that I have no regard for you, for ’tis false.” She spoke softly and avoided his eyes. Shame at her thoughtless words ate at her. “I believe you an honorable man and I have accepted our coming marriage.” She risked a glance at him.

His gaze flicked over her face doubtfully. “Then why, sweet lady, did you look like a heavy storm was brewing in your face? Tell me what is wrong, sweetheart, if ’tis not the banns?”

“But it is the banns!”

He stepped back, his mouth pursing with impatience. “Alyse, we have but little time. I must attend the king yet I have news that will not wait.”

She breathed deeply and shook her head. “’Tis not the reading of the banns that distresses me, my lord. But rather standing in front of the whole church, on display for everyone to gawk at that frets me. Everyone seems to stare only at me, looking for faults that can later be bandied about in conversation. And not just today,” she mourned, “but twice more we shall have to stand there, for all the world to see.”

His lips twitched.

If he laughs, I will curse him.

He managed to compose himself before grasping her hand. “My lady, I care not what the court says or thinks of me, but if any would offend you by word or deed, rest assured he would feel the sting of my displeasure before the world was yet another hour old.” His hard tone softened as he squeezed her fingers. “Mark not what they say, heed only my words when I pledge you my troth ’til death us do part.”

He kissed them and wound her arm through the crook of his as he led her away from the chapel toward Princess Joanna’s apartments. Although she was loath to admit it, his words, as well as his attentions, had soothed her ruffled feelings. She smiled inwardly to think that his regard for her ran so deep. A quick peek at him from lowered lids showed her his countenance bore a smile also. They seemed to have come far in but two days’ time.

As they approached the door of the Princess’s chamber, he turned and took both her hands. “My lady, I have news that I would share with you.”

He seemed both solemn and excited by whatever message he had brought. It had to be news indeed, for she had heard nothing, either last night or this morning, that would touch upon them. This mystery so bemused her that she almost failed to see him lean down, bringing his mouth mere inches from hers. She gasped, snatched her hands from his and ducked around him before he could draw closer.

“Would you share something else besides news, Sir Geoffrey?”

“That I would, little maid.” He spun around before she could back away. He darted his hand out to secure hers again and raised it to his mouth. “It seems, however, that I must be content with this.” He grazed her skin with his lips, skimming over the surface of her flesh with a floating touch that made her shiver. “And with my news. You know the king called for a joust, a Round Table, at Windsor next week to celebrate the princess’s betrothal?”

Alyse nodded and frowned. The mere thought of jousting sent a quiver of dread down her spine. But his statement was hardly news; the court had been preparing for the tournaments for weeks.

“It has been decreed by His Majesty that on the first day the festivities will begin with a procession of ladies and knights of King Arthur’s court, starting at the Tower of London and winding through the town out to the lists. There are to be twenty-five knights on the king’s side who will joust and fight in a
pas d’armes
. So there needs be twenty-five ladies as well, to escort them to the field.”

She nodded again. “Princess Joanna rides in this procession.” Her part in the festivities had been determined last week. Did he have anything truly new to impart?

“You have been chosen to be one of the ladies.”

Alyse’s mouth dropped open and a thrill coursed through her. “But I am only Princess Joanna’s attendant, Sir Geoffrey. Usually such honors are reserved for the queen and Princess Isabella’s ladies, or the Duchesses and Countesses in the Royal Family. Why did they choose me?”

“Because I am to be one of the knights, and I begged a boon of the king to allow you to be my lady.”

She stared at him in shock, almost unbelieving, though she knew he would not lie about such a thing. To think she owed such an honor to the man she would soon call husband, that he had asked the king himself to grant the favor, made her heart beat an unsteady march in her chest. Alyse parted her lips to thank him when he swooped forward, secured her chin in his hand and kissed her.

Strangely soft, yet very sweet, his touch sent a searing bolt straight to her stomach, setting it afire. After moments that seemed an eternity, his mouth slackened on hers as though he would release her. Then he flicked the tip of his tongue across the hard-pressed seam of her mouth, testing for another invitation.

With a gasp she jumped back, drawing a chuckle from Geoffrey, who had the grace to glance around to make sure they had not been observed. “Be not discomfited, sweet. We are safe in our conversation.”

“’Twas not in our conversation that I feared harm, my lord.” Lord, ’twas difficult to sound outraged when she could still feel his lips on hers.

“Come, my lady, ’twas only courtly affection I did show you.” Geoffrey’s words might have been believable if not for the wicked grin that accompanied them. “And I have one more piece of news for you ere I go.”

She took a step back, and Geoffrey laughed softly. “Nay, ’tis only that I would have you decide which knight of the Round Table you would accompany to the field. You may choose any save Arthur or Lancelot, for those are reserved for King Edward and the Prince of Wales.”

He had struck her speechless again. To allow her to choose their roles… The enormity of the task soaked into her. They would be judged by the king and queen in part on how appropriately she chose. Choose wrong and the entire court would whisper scandal. She could not fail Geoffrey when he had entrusted her with this critical decision. “You do me great honor by your request, my lord,” she said finally, dipping him a curtsy. Such trust in her demanded nothing less than her utmost respect for him.

He stood expectantly, his eyes sparkling as he awaited her decision. Names from the tales she had read with her Uncle Antoine as a young child whirled through her head. But the choice for such an honored position should not be rushed. After a pause, Alyse twisted her hands and lifted her eyes to him. “Need you an answer this instant, Sir Geoffrey?”

He raised his eyebrows then shook his head. “I think not, my lady. I believe we will be placed in the procession according to my rank as knight, not by the rank of the Knights of the Round Table. Therefore, I need give the name only to secure our clothing for the procession. Tomorrow should suffice.”

“Then if I may, I will give you my choice this evening at supper that I may weigh the possibilities during the afternoon. I would have my choice portray both a knight of your chivalrous bent and a lady worthy of such a champion.” He laughed, and her heart beat faster. Would he be so bold as to steal another kiss?

“I will await your decision with anticipation.” He drawled the final word, leaning closer to her again.

She caught her breath. Would he dare?

His gaze held hers until his lips hovered mere inches away from her mouth and she began to tremble. “’Til evening then.”

He drew back a step and her hopes sank—until he leaned toward her and his lips finished the short journey to hers. Though briefer than before, this kiss was just as sweet, just as firm, just as stupefying.

She broke from him and placed a restraining hand on his chest, pushing him away. Her hand jumped from the heat that almost scorched her palm.

He stepped away and met her eyes with a hungry glance. “With your leave, my lady, I must attend the king.
Adieu
, until eventide.” After a deep courtly bow, he strode quickly down the corridor. When he reached the corner, he gazed back at her, a small triumphant smile on his lips.

Then he disappeared, and she turned to the
princess’s door, bubbling with the many excitements stirred by Geoffrey Longford.

* * * *

Geoffrey rushed down the hallway and quietly slipped into the king’s audience chamber. Small knots of courtiers were scattered about the room, enthusiastically discussing the joust. He sighted Thomas, and unobtrusively made his way to his friend who stood listening attentively on the far side of the room.

“News, Thomas?” he asked, standing behind him to better see King Edward and the nobles he was talking to with such animation.

With a brief lift of his chin, Thomas gave a wan acknowledgement of Geoffrey’s presence and spoke low, over his shoulder. “You have missed naught. They are still deciding the order of the procession for Tuesday. You are fortunate you will be consigned to the end, else you might have been missed ere now.” Thomas glanced back at Geoffrey with a contemptuous look. “Another assignation with the little de Courcy? You really must find some other diversions, Geoffrey, lest your conversation become offensive in its monotony.”

Geoffrey leaned back against the cool stone wall adjacent to one of the few windows in the chamber. He crossed his arms easily over his chest, hardly able to contain his amusement. “Jealous, Thomas?”

His friend turned to him, incredulous. “Will you mock me to my face, sir?”

“Only if I cannot do so behind your back.”

“You did not take offense at that, Geoffrey. ’Twas said in jest only.”

“True,” he acknowledged. “But you have since protested an aversion to my betrothed. Overmuch so, mayhap.” His manner was light but not his tone.

Thomas sighed. “Be easy, Geoffrey. I make no designs on the fair Alyse. I would not serve you that way. I simply chafe at a good companion lost, ’tis all.”

“Lost? How lost, Thomas? We are together much as we have always been. I grant I have busied myself with Lady Alyse these last few days, but when we are married life will settle down again.”

“Aye, you may think that, but I hold no such illusions. Will you leave your young bride to go out drinking and carousing with Patrick, Robert and me? You are more taken with this woman than any other I have seen and you have not even bedded her yet.” Thomas’s lazy smile spoke of his amusement. “Although mayhap that experience will drive you back to the likes of us.” Geoffrey’s sudden scowl drew a laugh from his companion. “Again, I mean no offense to your betrothed. Only that when the mystery is gone, the passion may leave as well. I can attest to that myself.”