Page 12 of Betrothal

“No, Sir Robert, I will have her here by me.” Patrick winked at her and grabbed her hand. She rolled her eyes at his audacity.

“Gentles, I insist the lady sit nowhere but between me and her betrothed.” Lord Braeton’s commanding voice carried an undertone of menace.

The other men sent up a discordant rumble, garnering curious looks from courtiers at nearby tables. Alyse glanced at the royal dais, and her stomach dropped to see the king’s attention drawn by their commotion. To become a spectacle in the raucous atmosphere of the Great Hall took some doing and was not the preferred way to obtain His Majesty’s notice. She returned her attention to her betrothed and bit her lip. Geoffrey had fixed the group with an ominous look from beneath lowered brows.

God help us all!

* * * *

Towering over the men at the table, Geoffrey held up a hand to the courtiers, fixing his face into determined lines. They quieted, either out of respect for their friend or from his warning look as he stared them down

“Gentles, I pray your patience. I agree it is meet that you are eager for the good company of Lady Alyse. I thank you for that compliment. But, as her intended husband, I claim first rites to her companionship this evening.”

He plucked her hand from Patrick’s loosened grip and rubbed his thumb gently across her knuckles. She sucked in air at his touch, and he smiled to himself at the victory. What battles might he win if he could but get her alone for a time?

A groan went up from his friends, but he continued. “We are hindered by but short acquaintance, and have need of conversation before the wedding.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, piercing each man by turn with his hard stare. A warning of serious consequences should they not acquiesce to his request.

“Oh, come now, Geoffrey,” Thomas drawled. “Let us all make Lady Alyse welcome. You will have much time together after your marriage, whilst we bachelors will be left to sigh alone. You should not claim all the sport!”

Geoffrey threw an indulgent smile at his friend. “Mayhap, Thomas, but you may make your addresses to my betrothed another time. I fear I must claim all of the lady’s attention at present. I would know her better ere we are wed.”

Thomas’s eyebrow went up. “But Geoffrey, we would all know her better ere you are wed.”

Geoffrey opened his mouth to answer Thomas’s bawdy comment, when a look at Alyse made him hesitate. Her face, suffused with redness, nevertheless showed a marked interest in the men’s exchange, especially Thomas’s barb. Her bright blue eyes gleamed at his friend, revealing her continued fascination with the man.

The sight of her rapt face triggered a rush of antagonism Geoffrey had never experienced before.

If she will favor Thomas then, by God, let us see if she can hold her own against him in this jest.

He raised an eyebrow as he fought to speak lightly. “Indeed, what say you, my lady? Do you wish more knowledge of my friend or no?”

* * * *

At Lord Braeton’s suggestive tone, Alyse sent Geoffrey a questioning glance. She had expected him to put the man in his place or at least admonish him for such ribald talk. But perhaps he wished to test her mettle.

Flattered he thought her so capable, she turned her attention to Lord Braeton and gave him her best courtier’s face: head tilted just so to the right, eyelids seductively half-closed, trace of a smile. The man had never given her this much regard before, and she aimed to make him sorry he had not.

“My Lord Braeton, you do me honor to request my simple conversation, as do all you gentles.” Her voice high and light, Alyse nodded to the men at the table, who all stopped speaking and seemed to hang on her every word. “I fear, however, that I must, regrettably, decline your wish to know me better at this time. For I am charged to wed this man,” she laid her hand on Geoffrey’s arm, “and it is right that he should have what knowledge of me as can be rendered before the wedding.” She leaned forward and continued in a mock whisper to Lord Braeton. “For I am sure you know, my lord, that knowledge can be dangerous or delightful, depending on the skill of the scholar and the manner in which he imparts it.”

The stunned look on Braeton’s face filled her with delight. He had apparently underestimated her. Perhaps he regretted that her father had not accepted his suit. Her heart beat a little faster at the thought. “Therefore, it is right that I accept my learning solely from my intended lord.”

After a moment of shocked silence at the table, Lord Braeton threw back his head and laughed, long and hard. “Oh-ho, Lady Alyse, I see you have not only a golden wit, but a tongue of quicksilver as well.” With an exaggerated flourish, he made her a courtly bow then took her hand and kissed it. “Indeed, your price is above rubies.”

Gratified by Lord Braeton’s compliment, Alyse turned to seek similar approval from Sir Geoffrey, but caught instead a scowl of disapproval. What on earth had she said to draw this response? Her delight at her first successful attempt at courtly wordplay faded, leaving her angry and bewildered. She had passed Lord Braeton’s test, but seemed to have failed her betrothed’s. What had she done wrong now? He had made it clear he wanted her to answer his friend’s teasing words. So what had displeased him?

Will I ever be able to fathom the man?

A strange, almost glaring, look passed between the two men then Lord Braeton shook his head. “I concede the day, Geoffrey, and the table. Make the most of your time with your lady, if you dare. I fear your ‘repentance’ has already begun.” He paused, appraising her as if seeing her for the first time.

Surprised at his sudden interest, Alyse sent him a smile before turning to see Geoffrey’s scowl deepen even more. The evening had turned into more of a trial than she had anticipated.

Recalling himself, Lord Braeton began to shoo the other courtiers toward another table in the Hall. As he passed close to Geoffrey, he leaned in and spoke for his friend’s ear only, though his voice carried enough for Alyse to hear him as well.

“Your father may have done you the greatest service of your life, Geoffrey. Take care you cherish it.” He clapped a hand to the tall man’s shoulder then left to join his companions. His tone, as much as his words, sent a shiver through Alyse as new regret rose in her.

Their end of the table, nearest the royal dais, now lay deserted. Geoffrey seated her with her back almost to the king, though the angle of her seat saved her from disrespect. He sat himself on a bench beside hers then leaned his back against the wall and crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes mere slits. He had not spoken a word to her since her exchange with Lord Braeton. That did not bode well, considering his current surly attitude.

She glanced around, unnerved to discover they were all but alone together. Shaken at the thought, she looked to him for reassurance but instead found his smoldering eyes staring straight into hers. Unmistakable desire had replaced the menace in his face. Alyse gasped at the power of that look and a wave of panic washed through her. She tried to rise, to flee, but he shot out a hand and gripped her arm, forcing her to sit once more.