Page 11 of Betrothal

He had not heard her speak so much at one time. Her low-pitched voice had a melodious quality—a pleasure to listen to. “Were you excited, then, to come to court?” Geoffrey experienced a giddy rush when he saw a tentative smile play about her lips.

“Aye, my lord, I came here eagerly. ’Tis very grand, especially after Merwyck Castle, near the Scottish border. A place beautiful, but wild. The castle did not have as many comforts as I find here.”

“What comforts?” He was fascinated by the way she blossomed before his eyes.

“Oh, warmth for one. Being so far north, the castle stayed cold always, even in summer. There were four other girls who served Lady Elizabeth, and we slept all in one room. Very noisy at night. To share with only one person here is like heaven.”

Geoffrey held his breath, for as soon as the words were out she colored prettily and darted a fearful glance at him. He had valiantly bitten back his amusement, yet still she noticed.

A delicate black eyebrow lifted. “You have a comment, my lord?”

Geoffrey laughed. As they arrived at the chapel, he took her hand, feeling that almost familiar rush of fire through his. “I would say, my lady, you are indeed perceptive. To share a room, or bed, with one other person can be like heaven.” He lifted her fingers to his lips, tingles firing off like sparks, and handed her into the chapel.

He watched with a hunger in his belly as Alyse’s luscious blue-clad form sped down the aisle to her place with the princess. Before she pushed past Lady Anne, she paused to throw a look over her shoulder at him. He nodded his farewell, intensely aware that his hunger would go unappeased a while longer.

Well-pleased with his success during the morning, he made his way over to his accustomed place with the king’s other courtiers, to hear the service and plan his next strategy.

Chapter 5

Sitting at table with Sir John, Maurya and Anne for the evening meal, Alyse found herself again peering around the Great Hall, though now she searched for a different courtier in the smoky light. That a mere day earlier she had searched instead for Lord Braeton gave rise to misgivings. Was she so inconstant in her affection? Or had Geoffrey Longford managed to make a bigger impression on her than she had thought possible in such a short time? Had her feelings for Lord Braeton, so intense last evening, vanished with this morning’s encounter with her betrothed?

The mere thought of the earl’s name sent a shiver down her spine, and she shot a glance at his table. He sat there as usual, engaged in conversation with Patrick and Sir Robert Spencer. His low laughter carried across the Hall, and the familiar leap of excitement caught her breath.

Not so inconstant after all.

Alyse shook her head, trying to squash any further traitorous thoughts. She was betrothed to Sir Geoffrey, like it or not, and had to honor the man despite her misgivings.

Her uncertainties had been somewhat dispelled by his pleasant conversation this morning, along with the effort he had made to set her at ease when in his company. His questions had persuaded her he wished to know more of her, which mollified her not a little.

She glanced around the room again for sight of Sir Geoffrey. Did she actually look forward to her betrothed’s company this evening? The thought unsettled her. Despite their conversation, she still knew little about him. And while he might have shown pretty manners earlier, she suspected such a physically powerful man could demand anything from her and expect his wishes to be heeded. Faced with these trepidations, she raised her cup for a soothing drink.

“Good evening, Lady Alyse.”

The familiar booming voice beside her startled a gasp out of her, forcing the ale down the wrong way. She sputtered, choked and coughed, fighting to breathe. Geoffrey stepped forward, rubbed her between her shoulders then gently struck her to bring the ale up.

Sir John struggled to hold back laughter. “You see the effect you have on your betrothed, Geoffrey? An you do not mend your ways, you will be a widower in short order.”

The tall knight grinned and wiped away the ale that dripped down Alyse’s face with the hanging sleeve of his dark green velvet tunic. “God deliver us, John. I am not married to the maid yet. Let us have some time together ere I must lose her.” She glared up at him, still coughing. “Indeed ’twas that very boon I came to seek tonight.”

Lady Anne took up the jest. “You seek to lose your lady, Sir Geoffrey?”

“Nay, Lady Anne!” he returned in mock horror. “I merely ask for time together with the lady as we dine, that we might become better acquainted. If you nobles can spare her, of course.”

Anne turned a mocking eye toward her. “What say you, Lady Alyse? Would you have Sir Geoffrey as your companion at dinner tonight?”

Much as Alyse would have liked to answer “no,” she knew it would serve no purpose in the end. Geoffrey’s plan was a good one, but Lord, his company exhausted her. She would need to have her wits about her to keep up the repartee that seemed to flow from his lips without effort.

“Aye, Anne,” she said with a trace of impatience. “An it please you, I would dine with my lord this evening.” She cut her eyes sharply toward Geoffrey. “We have much to discuss, it seems, my lord. Foremost being a suitable way for a man to approach a woman so she is not drowned!”

Lady Maurya managed to intervene. “Sir Geoffrey, you have our leave to dine with Alyse.” With twinkling eyes she added, “God help you!”

Geoffrey laughed and offered her his arm.

With a wary look at her escort, she stood, adjusted the folds of her long blue skirt so she wouldn’t trip and placed her arm on his. As they approached his table, Alyse trembled to see it still crowded with Sir Robert Spencer, Sir Patrick Sullivan and Sir Phillip de Mauley. And of course, Lord Braeton. She steeled herself for an onslaught of banter from that noble. He had tried to sting her with his wit last evening, and she feared a like attempt now. In anticipation of his ribald humor, she studied him, trying to gauge his mood.

At their approach, Geoffrey’s fellow courtiers scrambled to make a place for them in the middle of the table.

“Good evening, Lady Alyse.” Sir Robert bowed and indicated the bench beside him. “Will you sit here by me, my lady?”