Knight of My Dreams (2 page)

Of course, Lady Griselda's voice was not the reason his mother did not like her. She claimed the girl was spiteful and sneaky, a heartless witch who wielded gossip as men wielded swords.

Realizing that while he stood there goggling, his mother was doing her best to escape, Jonathan rushed forward. She was moving at a fast clip as she turned the corner ahead. When he followed a moment later, it took him several seconds to spot her. This palace corridor was busier than the one leading to her rooms, and Jonathan suspected that she had put on a burst of speed the moment she was out of his sight. She was a good distance up the hall, half-hidden by a quartet of servants coming toward him.

Proceeding to hurry, himself, Jonathan ate up the distance between them with his longer stride, quickly reaching her side. The glance she threw him was not welcoming. She ignored him as they reached the stairs, then traversed another hall. Finally, at the door he knew led out into the royal gardens, she paused to give him a harassed stare. “Are you not going to go look for a bride? You could hardly wish Edward to choose one for you.”

“I have plenty of time for that,” he argued. “I want—”

“Oh, aye. Plenty of time,” she interrupted scathingly. “A fortnight.”

Ignoring her sarcasm, he moved forward and opened the door, gesturing for her to proceed. His mother glared at him in frustration for a moment; then, seeming to realize that he was unaffected by her mood, she let her breath out in a disgruntled whoosh and marched outside.

A
lice was the first to spot the approach of Lady Fairley and her son. At least, Alice assumed it was the woman's son. Margaret of Fairley had spoken a great deal about the man, describing him as tall, dark, and handsome, very strong, solid like his father. She had also given various other flattering descriptions. Most of them appeared correct. He was tall and dark. He certainly looked solid and strong as he marched along beside his much smaller mother. Seeing him, Alice believed everything she'd heard about his campaigns against the French. As for him being handsome, it was hard to say. His face was scrunched up in a scowl as they neared, a scowl that seemed to deepen with every step as his mother verbally berated him.

Alice tilted her head and watched the pair curiously. The petite older woman appeared to be shooing her son away like some pesky fly, her hand waving vaguely in the air as she spoke in aggravated tones to him. The man that Alice assumed to be Lord Jonathan appeared unmoved by her gestures or her words; he followed Lady Fairley forward, pausing whenever she did stop to wave a finger at him, then following again. It was all rather curious, amusing even, and Alice's lips stretched into a smile as she watched the unlikely pair approach.

“What has you so amused?” her mother asked curiously, then followed Alice's gaze. She positively beamed as she espied her friend and the man approaching. “Oh! There is Margaret. And look, young Jonathan has accompanied her.”

Alice caught the meaningful expression that her mother cast Uncle James, and had a moment to wonder at it, but then was urged off the bench she occupied.

“Let Lady Fairley have your seat, dear. Respect your elders.”

Alice rose automatically and shifted away from the place where her mother and Uncle James were settled. The move made her the first to greet Lady Fairley and her son as they approached.

“Oh, good morning, my dear,” the noble woman murmured, and Alice felt her expression reflect her confusion at the cool tone the woman used. Lady Margaret was usually as warm and pleasant as could be. Her coldness now was somewhat startling to Alice and took her aback.

The woman gave the man accompanying her an irritated glance, then introduced him. “This is my son, Jonathan.” Her smile was decidedly forced and unenthusiastic. “Jonathan, this is Lady Alice of Houghton.”

“Good morn, my lady,” he said. The smile that accompanied his greeting was brilliant, making the man's hard face almost handsome as he took her hand and bowed over it.

“Good day, my lord,” Alice murmured, smiling politely back even as Lady Fairley added, “He very kindly walked me here, but he cannot stay. He has a task to fulfill for the king.”

“Oh, what a shame,” Alice murmured politely, her gaze moving curiously from the woman's grim face to that of her again-scowling son. The two staged a silent war with their eyes.

“There is no need for me to rush off right this very minute,” Lord Jonathan countered at last. “Certainly, I can afford to spare a few moments to get acquainted with my mother's dear friend and her lovely daughter.”

Alice could not help but notice that his charming words merely seemed to agitate Lady Fairley even more. With an exasperated wave, the older woman turned away and almost flounced over to take the seat Alice had just vacated. Apparently the introductions were over. It was hard not to notice and wonder at the fact that Lady Fairley had very obviously neglected to introduce her son to Alice's own mother. Or to her uncle, whom Alice's mother had most mysteriously insisted accompany them on this morning constitutional. Usually her mother was embarrassed by the man, who was something of a court dandy. And more surprising than her uncle's presence, was the sudden warmth that Lady Fairley was showing him. Not that Alice would expect the noblewoman to be rude, but from where she stood, Lady Fairley appeared to be almost gushing over the man, which was entirely bewildering. Alice had not thought the usually dignified woman capable of such effusive feeling, especially over a man like Lord James of Houghton.

Putting this curious turn of events away for later consideration, Alice glanced at Lord Jonathan to find the man glowering at the others with obvious displeasure. Alice peered from son to mother just as Lady Fairley paused in her conversation to glare back at her son and—if she wasn't mistaken—at Alice as well.

“Come stand by me, son. Or better yet, tend to your quest.”

Alice gasped at such bossiness, but Jonathan, rather than appearing upset or insulted, just smiled. The smile held a degree of affection, but there was also a median of contrariness. “Nonsense, Mother. I know you are concerned with the completion of my appointed task, but tomorrow is soon enough to start that endeavor. Besides, I can hardly leave Lady Houghton's daughter standing alone here. There is no room for her on that bench you are sharing, so I must stay to keep her company—'tis the chivalrous thing to do. Speaking of Lady Alice,” he added slowly, a strange smile coming to his face, “you were hardly fair in your description of her. She is much lovelier than you claimed.”

If Alice blushed at this unexpected compliment, Lady Fairley flushed an even redder shade, one that turned almost purple as her son went on: “How was it that you described her?”

Alice peered from son to mother again when Jonathan paused; she was aware of undercurrents here, but didn't understand them.

“You never mentioned that her hair held all the colors of a sunset: mellow golds and fiery reds. Or that her eyes were the clear blue of a cloudless sky. What
was
it you said?” The knight tapped his chin thoughtfully, and all the while his mother grew more straight-backed and tense. Alice simply grew more and more flustered.

“Oh, aye, I remember now. You commented on her figure. What was it you said? She was . . . lush? Round and rich like a berry brought to full ripeness?” Alice wasn't sure how to take such a compliment, but before she could react, Lord Jonathan went on. “No, no. It was something else you said. What was it?”

Lady Fairley looked ready to burst out of her skin. Instead she blurted out, “Oh, go sit over there with her if you insist. Just do be quiet.”

He smiled and bowed to his mother, then Lord Jonathan moved to take Alice's arm. He turned her solicitously toward the bench on the opposite side of the path. “Shall we sit over here, my lady? I promise not to embarrass you with any further compliments.”

“Er . . . aye. Thank you,” she murmured, as bewildered by the exchange that had just taken place as she was flustered by the words this handsome lord had used to describe her. No one had ever described her hair or eyes so prettily, and his description of her figure . . . well, gentlemen were not supposed to comment on a lady's figure. Alice now knew why. His words had sounded seductive and almost carnal. But surely that was due only to his reference to fruit and ripeness and such, she thought a little faintly. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that her uncle now sat, seemingly forgotten as her mother and Lady Fairley huddled together, some secret satisfaction on their faces. The two were holding a whispered conversation.

“Pray forgive my mother's moodiness,” Lord Jonathan murmured, drawing her attention back to him. “We have had a disagreement.”

“Oh.” Alice seated herself on the bench and proceeded to direct her eyes everywhere but at the huge man settling beside her. It was funny, she hadn't found him particularly threatening upon first seeing him, but he suddenly seemed so . . . male. Embarrassed by her own silliness, she cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I had noticed that she seemed a tad out of sorts.”

“Aye.”

Alice forced herself to glance at him, only to see that his eyes had gone back to the trio on the opposite bench. Apparently he didn't like what he saw. A small scowl tugged at his features, making his rugged face seem harsher. Surprised, Alice followed his gaze. It seemed Lady Fairley's discussion with Alice's mother was finished, and she and Alice's uncle James were now in the midst of what appeared to be a rather intimate tête-a-tête. Lady Houghton appeared to be dozing in the sun beside them.

“Your uncle . . .” Jonathan asked. His voice was harsh, and Alice turned a questioning glance on him as he continued. “Is he married?”

“Nay. He is widowed. His wife died several years ago, shortly after supplying their only son. He never bothered to remarry.”

“Why?”

Alice blinked at the question. The man sounded almost irritated that her uncle hadn't wed again. “Well,” she answered slowly, “I suppose his affections were never engaged by any of the eligible widows. And then there was never any apparent need . . . until his son and my father died.” She had his full attention at that announcement, and answered his silent question: “They were both taken when the plague struck.”

“Ah.”

“Aye.” She let her breath out on an unhappy sigh, then went on: “Uncle James inherited Father's title and the responsibility for Mother and myself.”

“The plague took many,” Lord Jonathan said with quiet sympathy. The words made Alice's eyes fill with tears before she could stop them. She had lost a younger sister, her father, her cousin, and her betrothed all in one fell swoop to the plague. The extent of her loss had seemed unbearable at the time. It was still a terrible ache within her. Yet while it was still painful, her anguish had eased a bit with each of the last five years. At times like this, however, the old sorrow caught her by surprise and overwhelmed her. Perhaps that was why she now so loved to lose herself in books, poetry . . .

Embarrassed by her own unexpected display of emotion, Alice glanced away and blinked her eyes rapidly to clear them, wiping surreptitiously at the few small drops that had overflowed to roll down her cheeks.

“What have you done now, Jonathan? You have the poor girl crying.”

Alice straightened and shifted to the edge of the bench to make room as Lady Fairley suddenly plopped herself down between them.

“It was nothing he did,” she defended quickly. “I was just explaining about my father, sister, cousin, and betrothed all being taken by the plague.”

“Oh. Aye. Terrible, that. Jonathan's father, brother, and betrothed were stricken by it as well.”

“Oh, dear. I am sorry,” Alice murmured.

“Aye. So am I.” Lady Fairley's eyes briefly misted over; then determination settled on her face. “In fact, that is the reason we are here at court.”

“Is it?” Alice asked politely.

“Aye. Well, ‘tis the reason Jonathan is here. I was already here enjoying a nice visit with you and your mother. ‘Tis so nice to be able to get out and about after a long, dreary winter like the last.”

“Aye,” Alice agreed. “'Twas a harsh winter. There was so much snow our men were castle-bound at one point. They had trouble even getting out through the snow to hunt. We were quite desperate for meat.”

“We had the same difficulties,” Lady Fairley acknowledged solemnly. “That is one of the problems of living in the north.”

“Aye.”

“I was most eager to get away from Fairley by the time the snow melted. Which is how I happened to be here when Edward sent for Jonathan.”

“Oh? The king summoned him here?”

“Aye. I had no idea what it was about, but it turns out that His Highness has decided ‘tis time Jonathan weds.”

Alice's jaw began to drop; then she caught herself. She couldn't imagine the husky knight being ordered to do anything! “I . . . see,” she said finally, at a loss as to what else to say.

“Aye.” Lady Fairley heaved a sigh that ended with her glaring at her son. “Jonathan has dallied about the project and the king has run out of patience. He has two weeks to find a bride, else His Highness will find one for him.”

“Oh . . . my,” Alice said softly, her eyes shooting to Lord Jonathan's face. The man, who'd been silent since his mother's appearance, was looking quite irritated and miserable.

“'Tis quite a fix,” Lady Fairley confided unhappily. “Jonathan . . . well, he really is no good at this sort of thing. He prefers jousts and combat. And me, I am of little use. He has already refused to consider every single young woman of marriageable age I have brought before him. I suppose ‘tis not surprising. After all, I am an old woman. I hardly know what young people are thinking nowadays, let alone what such young bucks as my son would find attractive.”