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Authors: Beleaguered
Jenna Jaxon - Time Enough to Love 03
When death holds sway in the world, can even the greatest love survive?
Finally in France, Alyse and Thomas return to their roles as courtiers to Princess Joanna. Their passion for one another continues to smolder hot and deep—until one fateful encounter changes everything.
During a formal banquet, Alyse must share an intimate dance with Geoffrey, her first love. His searing touch proves Alyse’s love and desire for him are as strong as when they first met. Tormented by this revelation, Alyse is bitterly torn between the love of her life and her love for her husband.
Into this agonizing situation, the disaster of the Black Death rears its head, decimating the princess’s retinue and threatening all their lives. Alyse, Thomas, and Geoffrey must try to save the princess from the ravening disease, but at a dire cost to themselves. With her world plunged into chaos, Alyse struggles with her feelings for both of the men she loves. But which love will survive?
Beleaguered
Time Enough To Love
Book Three
By Jenna Jaxon
Beleaguered
Jenna Jaxon
Published by Jenna Jaxon at Smashwords
Copyright © 2014, Jenna Jaxon
Edited by
Danielle Fine
Cover Art by
Danielle Fine
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or part in any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the late romance author Kathleen E. Woodiwiss, whose early works made me fall in love with historical romance and whose final book inspired me to write this one.
Acknowledgements
As with a child, it takes a village to write a romance novel. My village includes: my fantastic editor, designer, and mentor, Danielle Fine, without whom this book would never have been published; my awesome critique partners: Patricia Green, Kary Rader, and Ella Quinn, the ladies who keep me on the straight and narrow; the encouragement and support of my online critique groups and the Chesapeake Romance Writers, my local RWA chapter; my long suffering husband and two daughters who give me love and leave to write; and my dearest friend, Wayne Tucker, who read this book in its horrible first draft days and encouraged me to write anyway. You are all in my heart.
Table of Contents
Bordeaux
, France. August 1348
Alyse stood once again at the bow of the
Phillipa
, watching with elation as the ship wound its way down the dark green Garonne River toward the sizeable town of Bordeaux. Unlike the last time she had gone on deck, clandestinely garbed as a man, she was now dressed in a cool blue and silver linen cotehardie, her arm intertwined with her husband’s. Thought of that adventure still made her blush—not only had she and Thomas defied a royal order to come up on deck, but they had enjoyed a frantic coupling that left no doubt in her mind she belonged to Thomas, body and soul.
She tipped her head back, allowing the wind to cool her cheeks. After the final three days of their confinement below decks, the tang of the fresh salt air aroused her long-denied senses. Taking deep breaths, she savored the smell. Being restricted to the small cabin with her husband—not to mention the loss of her position in the court—had seemed a steep punishment for her indiscretion with Geoffrey Longford. But she would have paid a greater one to bring her to the realization that she had to choose which man she would cleave to—the man she had loved or the man she had married. Pray God she had chosen wisely.
Although she had not yet been recalled to the princess’s service, those duties would likely resume either tonight or on the morrow. ’Twould be difficult to be in close company with Geoffrey and his…wife. ’Twas hard even to think about the woman who had taken her rightful place. She would attempt to keep the couple at arm’s length, in spite of Geoffrey’s long friendship with her husband. If she did not see or speak to the man to whom she had been betrothed more than two months ago, mayhap she could come to love her husband as she ought to. So she would relish her day outside with Thomas, watching the ship draw close to the Port de St. Croix, where the courtiers would disembark.
The outline of the city rooftops danced before her eyes as she took in the sturdy walls of the fortifications, the graceful houses rising behind it, and, in the distance, the royal castle where the princess and her retinue would be housed for the next month before continuing on to
Spain. The novelty of these sights made Alyse’s spirits rise, and she chattered to Thomas, who appeared amused at her lightheartedness.
“My lady, you seem ready to jump over the side and swim ashore in your haste to leave the good
Phillipa
.” Thomas laughed and made as if to pull her back from the rail.
“Aye, my lord.” She heaved a mock sigh. “If I could but swim
, I might indeed seek to steal an advance on the princess. Not having learned that skill, however,” Alyse smiled up at him, “I will have to content myself with your assistance in leaving the vessel.”
The ship slowly came alongside the dock, the oarsmen maneuvering the vessel with skill born of long practice. With a gentle lurch, it came to rest
, and the anchor dropped, instigating much activity on deck. Mates ran to and fro, shouting and pulling on ropes. Courtiers emerged from below deck, anxious to watch the docking.
Alyse drank in the sights and sounds, heady stuff after a week limited to Thomas’s company and the walls of their cabin. She craned her neck to get a better view of the wharf when, from the corner of her eye, she caught bold movement. Geoffrey emerged from the gangway, dark cape swirling. His tall frame, clothed in a soft blue tunic, towered over everyone else on deck. The strong features she knew so well—thick eyebrows, intense blue eyes, firm jaw—now carried a tension that spoke of his newly-donned responsibilities for the princess. H
e raised his chin and his gaze swept the bow, as if he searched for someone.
Her heart stuttered. She clutched Thomas’s arm and turned toward him, prepared to make the most trivial conversation if need be, anything that might distract her from thoughts of Geoffrey Longford. But Thomas stared at someone over her head, and the hairs on the back of her neck pricked. Surely the man she sought to avoid now stood directly behind her.
“Good morrow, Thomas, Lady Alyse.”
The deep, beloved voice she would rather forget raised goose flesh on her arms. Courtesy demanded she greet him, but her body balked. She stood frozen, staring at her husband. Her hand dropped from his arm.
“Good morrow, Geoffrey,” Thomas hailed his friend then looked curiously at his wife.
She had no choice. To snub him would only cause more talk. Alyse plastered a smile on her lips and forced herself to face Geoffrey. “Good morrow, Lord Longford,” she said, keeping her tone sweet, but clipping the words. This was the first time she had seen Geoffrey since their meeting on this very spot over a week ago. The first time since she had bedded another man. Heat flooded her face. Pray let him think it the sun that beat down so keenly. Not quite knowing what she expected to see, she raised her gaze to his.
Now that was odd.
Geoffrey smiled amiably at Thomas as they carried on a brief conversation about the landing. Other than the polite greeting, he seemed to ignore her. Thank the Virgin. She still feared Thomas would react with violence if Geoffrey paid her any attention. For him to take no notice of her seemed prudent, yet it left her with a sharp pang of regret.
As the men talked above her head, she stared over the bow, looking at the waves. Remembering. Geoffrey had found her here, and for a while, the world had disappeared, and they had kissed as though none of the treachery of his marriage had taken place. As though they again had the right to love one another.
He had urged her to believe that, and though she longed to comply, in the end she had sent him away rather than dishonor her husband. The encounter had been witnessed by Thomas and had led, at last, to her betrayal of Geoffrey in Thomas’s bed. As that memory came flooding back, her body heated, shame warring with desire. She turned away from the men, lest they notice her pink-tinged cheeks, and gazed again at the bustling wharf.
“Alyse, where are you going, love?” Thomas asked as she stepped toward the railing.
“Just here, my lord, to watch the people busy on the dock.” That seemed the safest place for her at present. She forced herself to
pay attention to the carts being piled with boxes and trunks, as the servants ran from ship to land. Anything that would keep her mind from the conversation and the speakers standing behind her. ’Twas a feat more difficult than she would have suspected.
“Thank you, Geoffrey,” she heard her husband say at last. “We will be here until you call us.”
Footsteps receded. Moments later, Thomas slipped an arm around her waist and drew her near him. She folded her hands over his arm and leaned back against his comforting chest, breathing a sigh of relief. The first meeting had ended with blessed little distress to anyone but her.
“Geoffrey says we are to wait on deck until the princess and all her other attendants are ashore then we will follow them. There are carriages waiting in the next street to take the courtiers to the royal residence.” His mouth hovered near her ear, his warm breath caressing the sensitive flesh there.
She shivered and turned to face him, smiling. Another hurdle had passed. Thomas seemed not at all distressed or angry after this meeting with Geoffrey. That boded well for the future.
“Why does Lord Longford direct us to wait until the entire entourage has preceded us ashore? On whose authority does he inconvenience us so?” As anxious as she had been to gain access to the deck of the
Phillipa
, she was even more desirous to quit the ship entirely. Waiting for hours while the rest of the courtiers were allowed to leave sat very ill with her. She was, after all, the princess’s own lady-in-waiting, and this seemed a snub of her and her husband. Could it be at the whim of Geoffrey Longford?
Thomas gave her an annoyed glance. “Do you really intend to call him Lord Longford for the rest of your life?”
She met his gaze squarely and replied, “Aye, my lord. If you have no objection. ’Tis his name, after all.”
“Alyse. I thought we were well past this by now.” Thomas continued to glare sternly at her. “You have my leave to call him Geoffrey. He is still my friend, and we will most likely be much in his company. I will not have you making him or Lady Mary
aggrieved by being so formal in your address.”
Alyse sighed. If only Thomas would allow her to handle the matter as she thought best, they would likely not come to grief. She needed to keep Geoffrey at a distance for all their sakes. “Very well, my love,” she yielded at last. “For your sake alone will I address him as Sir Geoffrey. But more familiar than that I will not be.”
Thomas grinned down at her and took her hand. “More familiar than that I would not have you be, my sweet.” He brought her hand to his lips, sending tingles down her arm. “At least, not with anyone but me.”
Relieved, she gave herself up to the pleasurable fire her husband kindled in her. She had feared the sight of Geoffrey might rob her of the joy of Thomas’s touch, of the peace she had finally made within herself, and she gave thanks to the Blessed Mary it had not. After another moment of
glorying in his touch, she remembered her question. “But you have not answered me. Why does he appoint us to be the cow’s tail?”
Thomas chuckled. “’Twas not Geoffrey’s doing, my love. You will find he is not vindictive that way. ’Twas an edict from the princess herself. It seems you and I are not back in her good graces yet.”
Unwelcome news indeed. She longed to return to company, to resume her place in the princess’s service.
“As second-in-command, Geoffrey will be shepherding the retinue to the castle while Bouchier sees to the men-at-arms and the long bowmen. Although he has authority, Geoffrey takes his orders from others.” Thomas cocked his head. “Does our exile still vex you so much, sweetheart?”
Alyse smiled back ruefully. “In truth, it does. I would be on dry land and in our new chambers ere night falls. By the looks of this mob,” she gestured to the throng of courtiers who crowded together as they left the ship, “we will still be standing right here when the moon sets tonight!” She gazed at him beseechingly. “When think you the princess will repeal her order and bid me come back to her?”
Thomas assumed a hurt expression. “
Not two days ago you were bewailing the fact that when you attend the princess again you will have less time to attend to me.” His eyes shone with mischief. “Are you so fickle now, madam, to throw me aside for a chance to carry the princess’s cup at table?”
Alyse drew him near, fastening her arms securely around his waist. “I will always have time for you, my love.” His body, heated from the sun, smelled of citrus and musk, an earthy scent that made her long for the privacy of their chamber. “At any hour of the day or night, if it is within my power, I will come to you as wife and lover. That is my solemn vow.” She sealed it with a quick kiss then said with mock anger, “And I have
never
carried the princess’s cup at table, I will have you know!” They laughed together, looking out over the dock as the line of carriages began its procession to the royal castle on the Garonne.
Throughout the long day, she and Thomas watched while the seemingly endless stream of nobles and their luggage made their slow way from the several ships to the waiting carriages. Geoffrey conducted this parade with
the exactness of a military maneuver, and, for once, his actions held more interest for her than his person. He barked orders, directed the confused ladies and gentlemen to their conveyances, and managed to keep the flow of courtiers and carriages at a reasonably steady pace.
Praise the Holy Virgin he had the gift of command; else she would stand at the rail until eternity ended. Still the sun continued its journey to the west, glinting off the spire of a magnificent church in the distance. Alyse closed her eyes, imagining the coolness of its marble walls, a respite from the blazing August heat.
“Lord and Lady Braeton!”
The shout from the dock startled her, and her eyes popped open.
Geoffrey waved to them. “Proceed down the gangway.”
“Thank you, Blessed Mary.” Alyse crossed herself and turned to Thomas, grasping his hand and tugging him toward the planks leading to freedom. “Come, Thomas! ’Tis our turn at last.”
He chuckled and squeezed her hand, restraining her. “Not so fast, sweet. The planking is steep. ’Twould not be a welcome excitement to have to fish you out of the Garonne.”
“But we are nearly there.” She strained forward, pulling him like a horse in harness, unable to contain her eagerness.
“Go with God then, sweet.” He laughed and released her hand.
Suddenly freed, she raced down the planks and onto the dock several steps ahead of her husband. When she reached the pier, she raised her arms and twirled around, her silver and blue gown spinning out around her like a quicksilver fan. She stopped spinning abruptly as the ground moved below her feet as
if of its own accord. Thank goodness Thomas had arrived beside her. She reached for his arm, lest she topple over.
“Why does the land move so?” she asked fearfully, trying to remain standing while her feet seemed to wander to and fro.
He laughed and held her steady. “We have been moving constantly for the past ten days. ’Tis the ground that stays still while your body thinks it continues to move. ’Twill pass in a few moments.” Then, to her surprise, he scooped her up in his arms and started for the last waiting carriage. “I believe this is a better solution to your predicament, madam.”