Page 45 of Betrothal

He did not answer but simply stared at her for what seemed an eternity, as if to remember each line of her face and form. She stayed silent, searching his eyes for some reason for his presence.

Finally, he sighed and drew her once again into his embrace. “My love, I come to say goodbye.”

Alyse jerked away as though he had become a pillar of fire.

“Goodbye!” Her voice rose in horror then sank to a whisper once more. “Wherefore do you leave me, my love? What…what has happened?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she swayed toward him, her legs refusing to support her any longer. He could not leave her. They were to be married. Had the king ordered him to France? Back to the war? Oh, sweet Lord, he could be killed. Her heart froze and she began to shake.

“Alyse!” He scooped her up, bore her to a chair in the corner, and sat with her on his lap, her head cradled against his chest. “Shh, my love. Do not cry.” He stroked her hair. “’Tis only for a short time, I hope. I am summoned home this instant, for my elder brother, who is ill, has worsened, and my father would have me near at hand.” His presence soothed her, but she could not stop the tears. “Hush, my little love. You will break my heart if you do not.”

Home. He traveled only to Longford. Her trembling lessened, and presently the tears ceased. She sat up to look at him, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

He smiled at her and brushed a tangled lock behind her ear. “There is aught else that would take me from you now, little maid, so close to our wedding day. ’Tis but a week from tomorrow, though it feels a lifetime.”

He leaned down to nuzzle her neck then kissed away the tears streaking her cheeks. From there he meandered toward her mouth. Alyse clung to him, returning his kisses with an abandon born of the sadness of their parting. He would leave, but only for a short while.

They tasted deeply of each other then he released her lips and leaned back, gazing lovingly at her in the soft glow of the candlelight.

“Oh, Geoffrey.” Her hands, clasped in her lap, were still numb with the shock. “I am sorry at the news of your brother’s illness. I will pray each day in the chapel for his recovery, and for your swift and safe return to me.” She nestled her head against his chest. “You frightened me deeply, my lord.”

He rubbed his cheek tenderly against her hair. “How so, little maid? You could see I had no hurts. Why would you fear?”

“I was afraid you were being sent back to the war.” She shuddered and his arms tightened around her. “And even though you are not, praise God, being parted from you is an agony now. ’Twill be all I can do to bear this sorrow.”

She sat up again, gazing into his eyes that he might know the truth. “I love you with so much of my being that I cannot imagine life without you. I could not bear to live without you.” Tears trickled down her face again. He pulled her head back to his chest, pressing her closer.

“My love. You have my promise I will return as soon as I am able. I pray that Roland will recover and you will be back in my arms before the week is out. I will sorely miss you too, little maid. You have laid a claim to my heart I would have believed nigh impossible a fortnight ago.” He kissed her forehead. “I will carry your lovely scent and sweet face in my mind, and our passion in my memory, until I hold you again in my arms.”

He dipped his head, meeting her lips in a soul-stealing kiss she would savor in the long days to come.

“And that kiss I will carry in my heart.” He spoke softly, against her ear.

Alyse moaned in despair, all too aware they dared go no further than this parting kiss. With her in his arms, he rose then gently set her down to stand before him. He had to leave, and her heart would break with it. A week was an eternity.

She followed him to the door, misery in every step. Unable to dispel the feeling that something would prevent his swift return, she wished with all her heart she could accompany him. Would that she could.

“Geoffrey, wait! I have something for you.”

He turned back at the door, perhaps expecting another kiss to send him off. Instead, she took the candle from the mantel and hurried toward the far side of the bedchamber. There was a way part of her could be with him. With shaking hands, she eased the trunk open, wincing at the creak of the leather hinges. If Anne woke up, she would have even more evidence of scandal to spread.

Ah, here ’tis.

She closed the trunk and returned swiftly, her bare feet whispering across the smooth stones. Replacing the candle on the mantel, she turned to show him a small cloth bag of blue silk fastened to a gold chain.

“What is this, my love?”

“’Tis a token to take with you, to remind you of me and my love for you.” Alyse stood on tiptoe and Geoffrey bent his neck that she might slip the delicate chain over his head. “I made it to give you after our wedding, but I would have you take it now.”

Geoffrey scrutinized the small pouch, scarcely large enough to fill the center of his palm. He raised it to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Does it hold some of your lavender flowers, sweet?”

“Nay, my lord.” She leaned over his hand and sniffed. It did smell of lavender. “The bag is fashioned from a bit of silk taken from an old gown. The scent of lavender must cling to the fabric.”

Geoffrey smiled at her and cocked his head. “What does it contain then, sweet Alyse, that you would send with me?”

“A lock of my hair,” she answered proudly.

“Your hair!” Geoffrey’s horrified voice rose to the point that Lady Anne stirred in her sleep. “You cut your hair!”