Betrothal (Time Enough To Love) (9 page)

Not meeting Geoffrey’s eyes, Alyse made as if to follow Patrick back into the castle. She halted, however, unable to move as her betrothed fell to his knees before her, head bowed in subjugation. She stared at him, shocked that the huge, proud knight would humble himself thus.

“Lady Alyse, I beg you, hear my entreaty. I know not how to approach you other than as a humble knight who would crave an audience with you.”

Alyse waited patiently, but he did not speak, did not rise. What did he play at? Why did he not speak? Bewildered at his silence, her annoyance grew.

Why would he ask to speak to me and then not… Oh
.

He had asked permission to speak and therefore awaited her answer.

Her breathing faltered. He was making a formal petition, not a simple apology. Suddenly, she did want him to speak, to explain himself. Though her anger with him had not abated, it had tempered. Despite her earlier thoughts of Lord Braeton’s suit, she was loath to lose the regard she had come to feel for the man kneeling before her.

She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I will hear you, Sir Geoffrey.”

He released the breath he had been holding and looked up at her. Sincere remorse etched lines on his face. Her heart thumped strangely, as though deciding whether to beat.

Why does he affect me so, even when I am angry with him?

“My lady, I cannot tell you how grieved I am to have caused you pain. That I doubted your judgment, when you have given me no cause to do so, is appalling to my senses. I have no justification to give for my words or actions unless you will believe that a temporary madness assailed me, robbing me of my reason. I can find no other explanation for it. I know you are well-learned in the tales of the Round Table and that you understand the protocol of the court. Neither do I believe you would do anything to bring censure upon either of us.”

He searched her face with worried eyes. For compassion? Forgiveness? She tried to set her mouth into stern lines, not yet ready to let him make amends. Whatever he beheld, though, must have given him some hope, for his eyes widened and the strained lines around his mouth softened.

He hastened to continue. “Lady Alyse, I would that I could recall my words and deeds of this morning, but as I could not stop time for you, neither can I reverse the journey of the sun in the sky. I must live with the deep regret for the pain I caused you and with the remorse that the tender trust you had extended to me these last days has now been withdrawn. Lady, allow me but to hope I may prove myself worthy again, so that you will grow to trust me as before. Grant me this hope and I will be as a condemned man given his pardon.”

Alyse listened to his explanation with growing amazement at his abject condemnation of his actions of the morning. She had never heard a man declare himself in the wrong with regards to his treatment of a woman. Certainly, her father had never found cause to say as much to her mother. Neither had such events occurred, to her knowledge, at Merwyck.

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.”

Alyse smiled at that, her breath coming more normally. “’Tis lavender, my lord. My mother has it cut in our fields, and dries it to make sachets to keep the clothes and linens fresh. She says it gives us good health.” With a shy glance at him she continued, “I do bathe in it too, for it calms and soothes the soul.” She gave a rueful chuckle. “I fear I will require such a bath when I return to my room.”

He grunted. “Perhaps I have need of one as well.”

They sat down on the bench, companionably silent for some time, as Alyse gathered her courage. Though loath to bring up unpleasantness, she had to broach the subject.

“Sir Patrick says you are to joust with Lord Braeton at the tourney. A challenge match. Is this true?”

“Aye.” Geoffrey shot her a questioning glance.

“Does this match have aught to do with me?” His silence provoked her to speak more sharply. “Sir Geoffrey. Do you fight this match because of Lord Braeton’s part in our quarrel today?”

He finally met her eyes. “Aye,” he confessed. “Though it did not begin that way. Thomas challenged me to a joust earlier today, as a friendly wager. Afterward, I told him that his interference had cost me your respect and trust and, if I emerged the victor of the joust, I claimed as prize his apology to you for his meddling words.”

She liked that forfeit well, but should he not carry the day… “And if Lord Braeton wins the joust?”

Geoffrey snorted. “In that unlikely event, Thomas will lay claim to you for the first dance at the final banquet.”

For a moment, she stared at him, stunned.

His reward for victory is a dance he never sought before?

Was this the confirmation she required to prove Lord Braeton’s intentions?

A sudden giggle turned into a full laugh at the perplexed look on Geoffrey’s face. “My lord, I do wish you well against Lord Braeton in the field. But should you lose, you will have assisted me in one of my cherished dreams, for never has Lord Braeton deigned to ask me to dance. It has been an experience I have much thought about, though never realized. So I will admit that other than fearing for your safety, I will be most eagerly awaiting your joust.”

“Should I be jealous now of my best friend, lady?” Geoffrey glowered at her.

Alyse bit back a smile. “Only if he is a better dancer than you, my lord.”

“You mock me, Alyse.”

“Perhaps I do, my lord.” She smiled in earnest and moved toward the palace. The night had ended much better than she had expected. More than one dream of Lord Braeton might yet come true.

He sighed. “Shall I see you to your chamber, sweet?”

“Will your escort better serve my safety or no, my lord?”

Geoffrey laughed at her censure. “Do you now think me more dangerous to your virtue?”

“Nay, my lord. But now I know the extent of the danger at hand.”

He caught her arm and placed it on his. “You have naught to fear from me, sweet Alyse.” Desire kindled anew in his eyes, belying his words.

Her confidence slipped several rungs. She must never underestimate the power this man had over her.

He squeezed her arm and whispered, “At least naught to fear tonight.”

Then he led her from the courtyard toward the doorway and the sanctuary of her room.

* * * *

“By God, it worked, Thomas!” Geoffrey strode into their apartments after seeing Alyse to her chamber, lighthearted with the results of the evening. “Thank the Blessed Virgin for your plan. She has forgiven me.” He sighed. “My admittance of wronging her seemed to weigh most heavily with her.” Geoffrey turned curious eyes to his companion. “How did you know she would respond so eagerly to my kneeling before her and begging her pardon?”

Thomas, seated in his accustomed chair, smirked and reached for his cup of wine. “All women want to see men grovel before them. It happens so seldom it is quite a novelty when it does occur. They cannot help but be impressed.” He quirked an eyebrow. “All is now well between you and Lady Alyse?”

“Aye, Thomas. Better than well.” Geoffrey grinned, remembering her soft lips.

“Good.” He sipped from his goblet then frowned. “I trust her change of heart does not void our wager.”