Page 24 of Betrothal

Even more astonishing was Geoffrey’s obvious sincerity. His words were spoken not merely to placate her—his manner and tone convinced her he truly regretted hurting her. He made her feel like a princess in a legend, with a knight-errant at her feet, ready to do battle to redeem his honor.

Her resolve melted like butter kissed by the sun.

A giddy rush of affection for her knight overwhelmed her. Before she could think, she cupped his face in her hand and bent to brush a kiss over his lips.

Shock streaked through her, palpable as a lightning bolt flashing between them. A thousand rapturous feelings shattered her body. Stunned, Alyse stumbled back. Geoffrey’s head snapped up and he staggered to his feet to catch her before she could fall. He slid his arm firmly around her waist, and swept her to the bench in the bower.

When they were seated, an embarrassed silence ensued. Unsure what to do, Alyse gazed about the bower. The sweet rose scent seemed to intensify her tumultuous feelings. Should she speak first? Suggest they leave? The longer they remained in the secluded spot, the weaker she might prove against his devastating charms.

Keeping hold of her hand, Geoffrey finally pressed his advantage. “Does this mean I may hope, my lady?”

“What would you hope for, my lord?” She spoke low and kept her eyes downcast. If she even glanced at him, she feared she would be undone. Why did the man make her feel thus?

“That I may be forgiven when I have proved myself worthy.”

She squeezed his hand then let go, still avoiding his eyes. “I would forgive the transgression now, my lord, for you have proven yourself able to admit a fault. An act of which many are incapable. ’Tis itself a worthy deed to declare you were wrong to doubt me.” Alyse ducked her head, suddenly shy to be speaking so directly.

Geoffrey pulled her face to his, and she gasped as she stared into the dark blue depths of his eyes. “Aye, Alyse. I was wrong and shall not make that mistake again, upon my honor. If you are sure you can forgive me, may we go on as before? Can you begin to trust me again?”

“Aye, Geoffrey. I do forgive and…mayhap will trust.” The last came out grudgingly, though more from her confusion than any real doubt of his sincerity.

He sighed and released her face. His big body slumped, as with resignation. Perhaps he had hoped for full pardon. She would reserve that, however, until she became clearer about her position in Lord Braeton’s affections.

They sat together in companionable silence, until Geoffrey spoke again. “I would ask one thing, my lady, if you would tell me.”

A moment’s hesitation then she nodded.

“What knight and lady did you choose? I have yet to tell the king.”

Her smile must have reached from ear to ear, so delighted was she that he had indeed left the choice to her. “Sir Erec and Lady Enid, my lord. An it please you.”

Geoffrey kissed the hair near her brow. “It does please me, love. ’Tis perfect for us. I could not have chosen better. Likely would not have. I would have selected the Lady of the Fountain for you, or the Lady of the Lake, perhaps. Lady of my heart, for certain.”

He gazed deeply into her eyes then sank his mouth onto hers in a true, deep kiss. Her head fell back, his lips so insistent she could not have found the strength to protest had she desired to. He set his hands to roam down to the small of her back, pressing her closer to him. Persistent, he slid his tongue over the contours of her lips, now burning with a delicious fire.

Held against him, unable to move, almost unable to breathe, Alyse reveled in his caresses as wave after wave of glorious sensation flooded her body. Kindling passion wrested all thought from her mind, and she wantonly returned his kiss, pressing her mouth to his. His lips awoke the flame she had only vaguely sensed before. Transformed it into an inferno that began at her mouth then blossomed unexpectedly in her breast and between her thighs.

But when his tongue sought to part her lips, a shock bolted through her. His intent overwhelmed her, and she feared the passion she had unleashed in this man. She tried to push away from the iron arms that held her, turned her head to deny his insistent mouth.

At the loss of her lips, Geoffrey pulled his head up, breathing as if coming up out of a cold pond. He shuddered and she glimpsed the hot desire in his eyes. Fear surged through her at that look, urged her to redouble her efforts to flee him. She pulled against him, and suddenly she was free, stumbling away, hand over her mouth.

“Alyse, my love, stay! I…beg pardon,” he called after her, his voice ragged with passion.

Still gasping for breath, she stopped several steps away from him. She panted as fear and desire fought for control. Desire whispered to return to Geoffrey, throw herself into his arms, circle his neck and renew the kisses that had so enthralled her.

But those kisses would surely be followed by other, more intimate caresses. Once she allowed those pleasures, they would be bound irrevocably together, as surely as if their marriage vows had been spoken. After his hurtful display this morning, did she want to reward him? Did she desire Geoffrey enough to relinquish all hope of Lord Braeton?

His step sounded behind her and she turned, unsure whether to run or stay.

The plea in his eyes stopped her flight, even before he spoke. “Alyse! I beg you! Stay, love.” Then more slowly, “Did I hurt you?”

At his contrite tone, some of her composure returned. “Nay, my lord. You have given me no hurt.” Heat crept into her face at the memory of what he had done.

“You make me forget you are an innocent.”

His low tone sent a new shiver through her. She could not reply for her racing heart. He stood so close she imagined she could feel his arms around her still.

He reached out to capture a tendril of her hair. Rubbing his face against it, he inhaled deeply. “You smell so sweetly. ’Tis like flowers in summertime all about you. Even your hair smells like the meadows near my home.”