Knight of My Dreams (9 page)

He accommodated her, and the kiss was as fiery and passionate as she'd yearned for. The next moment, Alice tore her mouth away to cry out as pleasure ripped through her. Her inner muscles contracted and vibrated, her thighs clenching around Lord Jonathan's hand, her arms and fingers tightening, her heart seeming to stop. When she regained herself enough to become aware of what was going on around her, it was to find Jonathan gently holding her, murmuring calming words as he pressed gentle kisses on her face.

“I—” Alice began, feeling shame and embarrassment slowly make their inevitable appearance, but her lover shushed her at once. He pressed a soothing kiss to her lips.

“Jonathan!”

Their kiss ended abruptly at that scandalized cry. A scramble ensued as Lord Jonathan quickly tugged her skirt down and sat up, shifting to block Alice from view. She tried desperately to straighten her gown.

“Mother!” There was no mistaking Lord Jonathan's outrage at this interruption, Alice decided as she struggled to right her clothing with hands that shook with humiliation.

“Do not ‘Mother'
me
as though I am the one in the wrong, son. How
could
you?”

“I think you had best come with me, Alice.”

Finished with her gown, Alice stiffened at those words. She sat up to peer reluctantly over Lord Jonathan's shoulder. A little sigh escaped her at the sight of her mother with Lady Fairley. It just figured the woman would be here to witness her daughter's shame, Alice thought unhappily. The only positive point at that moment, it seemed to Alice, was that Uncle James was not also in attendance.

“Alice.”

Grimacing at her mother's tone of voice, Alice got reluctantly to her feet and moved around Lord Jonathan to follow Lady Houghton as she turned abruptly and started back up the path.

“Wait! Alice.”

A glance over her shoulder showed Jonathan struggling to his feet to pursue her. Eager to be away from the scene of her humiliation, Alice did not stop, but she did slow down enough for him to catch up. Much to her relief, her mother continued on, unaware that her daughter was no longer on her heels. Alice had one brief moment in which she thought she might get a word alone with Jonathan to reassure herself that he did not think as poorly of her as everyone else apparently did, but it was only one moment; she glanced back to see Lady Fairley step into her son's path.

“Let her go!” the woman said, in a hiss. “I have told you all along that girl is not good enough for you, and now here I find her tossing about on the ground with you like some tavern wench out for a quick roll in the hay.”

That was all Alice needed to hear. She had found Lady Fairley's treatment of her to be strange all along. The woman was pleasant enough when her son was not around, but cold when he was. Alice had wondered at that behavior, but now she understood. Lady Fairley disliked her. That dislike was obvious in the woman's tone just now. And her words had left little confusion over why.

Turning away, her eyes burning with tears, Alice ran through the darkness to catch up to her mother. The sweet interlude she had just experienced with Jonathan was suddenly a dirty, shameful thing, and the brief hopes for the future it had engendered in her died an abrupt death.

“D
o not say another word or I swear, Mother, I shall—” Jonathan paused and swallowed the bile in his throat, trying to swallow his rage along with it. He had never felt anything close to the fury that had swamped him as his mother had insulted Alice. He had even actually started to raise his hand, preparing to slap her for saying what she had, but then had caught it back. Clenching it at his side, he told himself that Alice had left; the words could not hurt her so long as she had not heard them—and she would never hear them. Ever. Now he took a deep breath and glared at his mother coldly. “I am aware of your feelings regarding Alice. You have made them clear many times. However, I suggest you attempt to get over them, because first thing on the morrow, I intend to ask her to marry me.”

On that note, he turned and strode briskly from the clearing.

“A
lice!”

“Oh, damn,” Alice muttered under her breath, recognizing that voice. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to know that Lord Jonathan was riding up behind her; she could hear the thunder of his horse's hooves. To be honest, she had rather hoped that taking herself away from the palace for the day would help her avoid him. One day: that was all she had hoped for, one day to compose herself and prepare to have to face him after last night's shameful conclusion.

It appeared it was too much to ask for.

He drew up alongside her and reached over to catch at the reins of her mount. “I have been looking for you all morning,” he said accusingly as he drew her horse and his own to a halt. “
Everyone
has been looking for you. Even your mother had no idea where you had gone.”

“I thought a ride would be nice. I . . .” Her words died abruptly when he suddenly leaned across the distance separating them and pressed his lips to hers. For a moment Alice went stiff, but then she softened with a moan and kissed him back.

“Good morn, my lady,” he murmured huskily a moment later.

Alice opened her eyes. “Good morn,” she answered solemnly.

“I would like to thank you.”

His words made her blink. “For what, my lord?”

“For last night.”

She immediately flushed with a combination of embarrassment and shame. He then urged his mount closer, attempting to hug her and pull her off of her mount onto his own at the same time, but she evaded him by urging her mare sideways. “Please, my lord. I—”

“Surely you can call me Jonathan,” he chided gently, allowing her to escape him for the moment.

“I think it would be better if I did not.”

“As you wish,” he said mildly. “Howbeit, once the wedding is over, I will insist on your calling me Jonathan—at least in private.”

Alice stilled, her uncertain gaze finding and locking on his. “The wedding? You have chosen a bride?”

“I have chosen you. If you will have me.”

For one sweet moment, Alice's heart seemed to dance out of her chest with joy. Then, as thoughts of Lady Fairley intruded, it landed back in place with a bump that caused her actual pain.

“Alice?” Jonathan asked worriedly when she remained silent. “You
will
marry me, will you not?”

“Nay.”

“Nay?” He stared at her blankly. “But . . . I realize we have not known each other long, but I thought that we got along rather well, and—”

“'Tis not you, Jonathan,” she said gently. “I would marry you in a heartbeat, were it not for—”

“What?” he asked, catching her arms as if expecting her to flee.

“Your mother,” she said quietly.

Lord Jonathan's hands dropped away weakly, his expression becoming one of defeat. “My mother.”

“I am afraid so. She dislikes me greatly. I know that.”

“Nay, she—”

“I heard what she said last night,” Alice interrupted, bringing his protest to a halt. She watched rage flood over his features; then he paled and glanced away. A helpless look overcame his face. She guessed it meant that he realized he could not argue; she had already overheard the truth.

“'Tis not my mother you would be marrying,” he said finally, an almost pleading look on his face as he turned back.

“Nay. I know. But did I marry you, I would have to live with her and her dislike of me forever.” Pained by the look in his eyes, she reached out to caress his cheek gently as she tried to make him understand. “I love you, Jonathan, but I could not bear a life with a mother-in-law who hates me. My mother had that. My father's mother made her miserable. She made us all miserable with her constant and open hatred of my mother when I was young. It was like living on a battlefield where words were used in place of swords. I could not bear that. I am sorry.”

“And I know you love your mother. I saw it in the way you were so protective of her when she was with Uncle James. I would do nothing to see that relationship destroyed.” Retrieving her reins from his slack hands, she turned her mare and started back toward court at a canter. She didn't look back at the possible future she was leaving behind, and Jonathan let her go.

“M
other!”

“Oh, dear.” Lady Fairley rushed across the room, plopped onto the stool by the fire, and snatched up her hairbrush just as Jonathan crashed into the chamber.

“Good morn, son,” she said waspishly, pulling the brush through her hair with studied indifference. “I suppose you have proposed to that girl?”

“Aye.”

Margaret barely restrained herself from leaping from her seat with a victorious shout, and had to take a moment to calm herself before she could speak. “And when is the wedding to be?” She asked at last, affecting a sneer. Five years of planning, and at last her scheme had met with success!

“Never. She refused me.”

Lady Fairley leaped to her feet after all, but her roar was far from victorious.
“What?”

“I said, she refused me,” he repeated.

“Well, why?” Lady Fairley gasped. “Surely she does not think herself too good for you, does she?”

“Nay. She thinks she is too good for you,” he snapped.

That took her aback, and Margaret sank onto her stool in dismay. “What?”

“Alice knows you do not like her. She overheard your slurs and insults about her last night.”

“Oh . . . I see.” Lady Fairley bit her lip under her son's accusatory glare, then rallied. “Well, that hardly matters. 'Tis not me she will be marrying.”

“Which is exactly what I argued. However, it seems that Lady Houghton, her mother, apparently suffered under a hateful mother-in-law who did not like her. Alice's grandmother made Alice, her mother, and father miserable with her hatred of Lady Houghton. Alice has no wish to repeat history . . . so refuses to marry me. Because of you.”

“Oh, dear. I had forgotten about that,” Margaret muttered under her breath. She frowned.

“What?” Jonathan glanced at her sharply, and Margaret turned her glower on him.

“Never mind. I shall take care of this,” she announced, setting down her brush.

“What? How?” he asked sharply, following her to the door.

“I shall have James find her and send her here to talk to me.”

Her big knight of a son threw his hands up helplessly. “Oh,
that
will be of great assistance. I may as well go tell the king to pick me a bride. You shall scare her off completely if you interfere.”

“Nonsense.” Margaret smiled, sure she could help. “Have a little faith in your mother.”

A
lice lectured herself grimly all the way to Lady Fairley's chamber. She really had no desire to see the woman who had ruined her happiness, let alone speak to her. However, her uncle had found her in the small alcove where she'd been indulging in self-pity and tears, alternately berating herself for giving up the happiness she might have enjoyed with Jonathan, and assuring herself that she had made the right choice. A mother-in-law who hated her would have made both their lives miserable.

Always having been uncomfortable with tears, her uncle had shifted anxiously about, his gaze landing everywhere but on her as he had announced that she was to go directly to Lady Fairley's chamber. He had made it clear that this was an order from her mother that was not to be brooked and that dallying was out of the question.

For one moment, Alice had considered rebelling against her uncle's command to visit Lady Margaret, but then had decided she did not have the energy. Now she found herself pausing outside the door of the nasty witch who had ruined her life. She had no idea why she had been summoned here, but had no doubt it had something to do with Jonathan. Alice supposed it was possible that he had informed his mother of his intention to propose, and that this was some attempt by Lady Fairley to be sure Alice said no when he did. Of course, there was no need for such a request now, but perhaps Jonathan had not yet informed his mother of Alice's refusal. Which left it up to her to do.
Great
.

Taking a deep breath, she pasted a nonchalant smile on her face and tapped on the door.

“Enter.”

Alice grimaced at the command, but quickly replaced her anger with a more pleasant, though less honest, smile. She opened the door.

“Ah, Alice.” Lady Fairley stood up from her seat by the fire and started across the room. Oddly enough, she wore a welcoming smile on her face. Which served only to make Alice warier. “Thank you for coming, I—”

“You need not fear, my lady. I am not going to marry Jonathan,” Alice blurted. The older woman's smile faded and she halted as if struck by a lance.

Quite sure the woman would be grateful to hear the news, Alice was wholly unprepared when Lady Fairley roared, “Oh, yes, you are!”

Alice blinked in surprise, sure she had misunderstood. “I beg your pardon?”

“My dear girl, I have worked too long and too hard to get the two of you together to have you refuse Jonathan now.”

Alice gaped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Sit down.”

Confusion reining in her poor, woolly mind, Alice sat on the nearest item of furniture, the end of Lady Fairley's bed. She watched in bewilderment as Lady Fairley began to pace.

“First off,” Jonathan's mother said abruptly, “I wish to know if you love my son. Or think you can grow to love him.”

“I . . . yes,” she stammered, too bewildered to lie. “I do.”

“Good.” But the satisfied smile that came to Lady Fairley's face did not reassure Alice. “I can explain. Jonathan is a wonderful boy: intelligent, charming, handsome, loving . . . every mother's delight. But he does have one flaw. He is as stubborn and contrary as his father ever was.”