Knight of My Dreams

by Lynsay Sands

  Alice twisted on the bench in surprise as he unintentionally jostled and nudged her, trying to claim the small space available. Much to his pleasure, the action left her chest smashed against his. Jonathan found himself quite enjoying the situation for the few seconds it lasted, then the girl blushed bright pink and turned to face forward again.

  "Good morn, my lord," she said.

  Jonathan smiled at the strangled sound of her voice, knowing she was embarrassed. He also knew that his own voice would come out similarly at the moment if he used it--but not from embarrassment. The brief and intimate contact of their bodies had left him almost instantly aroused. Clearing his throat, he grunted in greeting and concentrated on the food and drink set before him. He allowed his body to recover before turning his attention again to her.

  Those few moments allowed her to recover her composure, he saw. The red had receded from her face, and a slightly dreamy expression had replaced the embarrassed look of only moments before. "Do you have any plans for the day, my lady?" he asked.

  "Nay. Why do you ask, my lord?" She glanced at him curiously, then, as he shuffled through his mind for an answer that eluded him, understanding came to her face. A crooked smiled claimed her lips. "Oh, of course. The list."

  "The list?" Jonathan repeated blankly.

  "Aye. No doubt you wish to go over the list again . . . now that you have interacted with some of those on it. So that you may cross off those you found unacceptable," she added when he continued to stare blankly at her.

  "Ah, yes," he murmured. His eyes fell back to his trencher as he contemplated that. It hadn't really been why he'd sought her out this morning. He couldn't say why he had; he'd simply wanted to see her. He had been pondering kissing her since his mother had interrupted what he was pretty sure would have been a hell of a kiss. Of course, he couldn't be positive he would have kissed her. He hadn't really been thinking at that point. At least, he hadn't been thinking, I am going to kiss her. Mostly he had been thinking that her lips looked full and soft and tempting, and that they probably tasted as good as they looked, and--

  Well, this is neither here nor there, Jonathan told himself. The point was, he had spent a good half of last night imagining a kiss he hadn't given her. The other half had been spent dreaming that he had kissed her . . . and more. He'd had terribly lascivious dreams, full of Alice's naked, creamy flesh in his hands and mouth, enclosing his hard--

  "I had no plans for the day and would be pleased to assist you in this matter."

  For a moment, Jonathan thought she meant in the matter he had dreamed of. His heart nearly leaped through his chest with gratitude at the thought, and his body instantly became hard again. He gave his head a shake, peered at her innocent, smiling face, then realized she must mean she would be happy to go over her list with him.

  It hadn't at all been the reason he'd sought her out, but he supposed it was the reason he should have sought her out.

  "Wonderful," he said, frowning at the huskiness of his voice. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "That would be very helpful, thank you."

  "If you are through breaking your fast, we may even do so now." Much to Jonathan's horror, she actually started to rise. Grabbing her arm, he stopped her when she would have moved away from the table.

  "I, er . . ." He peered down at his lap briefly, then realized that the action was likely to draw her attention to the unfortunate state of his manhood. He raised his gaze abruptly. Clearing his throat, he murmured, "I am not through eating."

  When her gaze moved with confusion to his trencher, Jonathan noticed that he had absently consumed every last bite of food that had been set before him.

  "I am oddly ravenous this mom," he explained lamely, but she nodded and relaxed back into her seat. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jonathan gestured a servant over and requested more food and another drink. He then glanced at Alice with a smile. Noting the sidelong looks being shot at the two of them by Alice's mother, Jonathan leaned forward and said, "I trust you are feeling well this mom, my lady?"

  "Oh." Lady Elizabeth of Houghton flushed. "Aye. Thank you, my lord. And you? Are you prepared for the day's endeavors?"

  "Endeavors?" he asked cautiously.

  "Aye. Preparations for your next feast."

  "What?" Jonathan had no qualms about letting his horror show. Another feast? Over his dead body! He would never again willingly suffer the tortures he had experienced the evening before. He had only refrained from arguing last night because he'd assumed the king would never agree to such activities in his palace. It seemed his mother had more persuasive power with Edward than he'd imagined.

  "Oh, dear." Alice's murmur drew his questioning gaze, and she explained, "I had quite forgotten about the feasts. I promised this morning to assist your mother with the preparations."

  "That is unnecessary," he said. "I really do not think that another event will be necessary. The last, while not completely unhelpful, was something of an ordeal I would rather not see repeated."

  "Oh, but that is why I agreed to assist. I wanted to be sure that it would not be another like last night's debacle," she explained earnestly. "This time, only appropriate women shall be invited. And half of the attendees shall be men, to help balance things out. This way, the other men may entertain the others while you concentrate on one lady at a time. You see?" She smiled at him brightly. "I am sure it will work out much better."

  Jonathan grimaced. He was not reassured by the news, but it seemed he had little choice in the matter. Worse, it appeared that Alice was now throwing herself into helping his mother find him a bride.

  Now, why did that idea annoy him so much?

  Chapter Four

  "Oh, I am so sorry, my lord. I am so clumsy."

  "What? Oh." Jonathan tore his gaze away from Alice to force a smile for the young woman with whom he was dancing. The throbbing in his toes told him she was apologizing for stomping on his foot. It was the first time Jonathan had been so stomped all evening, but he had hardly noticed the action. His attention had been riveted on Lady Houghton's daughter--and the man presently leading her across the dance floor.

  Damn his mother and her never-ending plans! he thought irritably. Muttering some polite comment about his dance partner's misstep, he turned his gaze back to Alice. This was the second bridal feast--the result of several days of work carried out by his mother, himself, Alice, and her mother. Lord Houghton had been present, as well, but that was all. The man was a layabout who apparently considered any manual labor to be beneath him.

  Jonathan sighed inwardly. Normally there were a thousand and one other things he would rather have done with the last few days. Certainly bickering over what food and drink to serve at these bloody feasts his mother kept planning was ludicrous for a warrior such as himself. However, none of his alternate pastimes would have included Alice's presence. She had pledged to assist his mother, and that meant that, for him to spend time around her, he'd had to assist as well. And Jonathan had found himself hungering for Alice's presence.

  Actually, the lass had managed to make the past two days fun. She and Jonathan had talked and laughed their way through his mother's orders, enjoying each other's company and working together. As he'd suspected, Alice was a clever woman, and her witty turn of phrase and irreverent sense of humor drew Jonathan like a moth to a flame. He only hoped he did not get burned.

  "Oops. I have done it again."

  This time Jonathan did not need to be told, he'd definitely felt the crunching of his toes as the reel brought him and his partner together again. Had it been a deliberate stomp, with a twist at the end to inflict the most damage? It did not take a lot of thought to realize that the delicate little brat he was dancing with was annoyed with his lack of attention.

  He would have been enraged once, but Jonathan was honest enough to admit that he was being rude in his lack of attention. He likely even deserved his dance partner's attacks, petty as they were. In truth, he had been rude to almost every single maid he had
danced with, what with his gaze and attention being taken up as they were by Alice and her suitors. The wench had hardly sat a dance out. She was forever fluttering around the floor on the arm of one lordling or another. Why the hell had he allowed his mother to invite so many damned men? he wondered irritably. And did they all have to be so bloody attractive?

  The third stomp was the final one Jonathan was willing to suffer. It was also the most painful of the three and left him limping as he escorted the little brat off the floor. Leaving her to complain of his distraction to her mama, Jonathan sought out his own mother, intending to do a little complaining of his own.

  "Ah, there is my handsome son."

  Jonathan grimaced inwardly at his mother's words as he paused at her side, but he gave a polite nod to the group of noblewomen gathered about Lady Fairley. He was beginning to feel like the pride of a stable, being presented for possible stud service.

  "Here you are, my dear."

  Jonathan did grimace openly as the ever-present Lord Houghton appeared with a drink for his mother, but in truth, it was more from habit than anything else. It was now clear the man was nothing more than a nuisance. Jonathan was positive his mother had more sense than to do aught but dally with the oaf's affections. Of course, if she suddenly decided to marry the bastard, Jonathan would have to kill him, but he would worry about that when and if the time came. At the moment, he was more concerned with Alice's antics.

  "My, this was a brilliant idea, Jonathan, and a fine success. Do you not think?"

  He nodded absently, hardly hearing his mother's question or the cooed agreement of the surrounding women. He irritably watched yet another man lead Alice through a reel. She was a graceful dancer, her body perfectly in tune to the music. She put all the others to shame.

  "Do you not think so, Jonathan?" his mother asked again.

  "Hmm?" He glanced around to find a dozen expectant faces turned toward him. He nodded distractedly, then commented, "Lady Alice appears to be quite popular, does she not? She has danced with nearly every man here."

  His mother waved that away impatiently. "Really, Jonathan. Whatever does it matter whom Lady Houghton is dancing with? She is not the one who needs to marry. You are. Now, why do you not give Lady Jovell a turn on the floor? You have not danced with her yet."

  Jonathan frowned at the suggestion, but he was too polite to give any insult by refusing. He took the arm of the spotty-faced girl who stepped out of the group and led her onto the floor. Fortunately, the chit was the quiet sort who did not seem to desire conversation while dancing. She also didn't seem to mind that his gaze was trained on Lady Alice and the bevy of beaux vying to dance with her. Of course, that may only have been because she spent the entire dance with her head bowed, watching her feet.

  At least she did not treat him to a sound foot-stomping for his inattention, and that was something to recommend her, he decided as the music finally ceased.

  Afraid that his mother might try to push another young maid on him, Jonathan made returning Lady Jovell a quick business. He merely escorted her back to the group around Lady Fairley, then hurried away, pretending he did not hear his mother when she called.

  He moved off in such a rush that he nearly ran over Alice. Steadying her with a hand, he beamed brightly, his first real smile of the night, and promptly took her arm.

  "Ah, there you are. Come. Dance with me."

  "Come here, come there, come dance with me," Alice muttered, and Jonathan glanced down at her with concern. There was an opening on the dance floor, but he paused, facing her, to await the music.

  "Do you not wish to dance with me?"

  "Oh." She smiled wryly. "It is not that, my lord. Although I am a bit winded and was hoping for a chance to rest."

  "Then what--"

  "You have a tendency to order me about, my lord," she pointed out dryly. "Rather like a lackey. And while I realize that I agreed to assist you, I had not realized that it was to be in such a subservient position."

  "Subservient?" The expression he gave her was aghast. "I hardly look upon you as a servant."

  "Nay?" She raised an eyebrow, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "'Tis my error, then."

  The music began, and they both fell silent as the dance started. The steps first distracted, then separated them as they hopped and skipped through several partners.

  The moment they were back together, Jonathan cleared his throat and said, "You said you were hoping to rest. Would you prefer--"

  "Nay. I am fine, my lord. I may rest after this dance."

  "Ah. I am not surprised that you are weary. I had noticed that you appear to be quite popular as a dance partner."

  Jonathan wished he could retract the words the moment they left his mouth. The comment had definitely sounded rather peevish, and the curious look Alice sent him before the steps of the dance drew her away from him again made clear that she had taken notice of it. It seemed an eternity before the dance returned her to him.

  "I was rather amazed myself at my popularity," was her mild comment as they moved together through a simple alman.

  "Amazed?" He scowled at her. "There is nothing to be amazed about. You are a beautiful woman, intelligent and witty. Of course you are popular." He did not sound pleased by this admission, even to himself.

  "Do you really think so?"

  Jonathan glanced down sharply at her almost whispered query. The girl's eyes had gone all soft and dewy. For a moment he was positive that she might cry just from his giving her such a compliment; then he spared the time to toss another glare in her uncle's direction. Obviously the wretch did not waste time complimenting Alice as he should. As anyone who loved her--and in whose care she had been left--should do.

  "Aye," he said quietly. "I think you are all those things and more, Alice."

  "Do you think we might slip outside for another walk?" she asked.

  Jonathan blinked in surprise, his mind suddenly awhirl with possibilities. A romantic walk under the stars? A chance to claim that kiss he had missed out on two nights before? Then he noted Alice's expression as she apparently realized just what she had suggested. Fearing she might retract the offer, he headed quickly for the door.

  They were just about to slip out when his mother and Alice's suddenly stepped into their path.

  "There you are!"

  Jonathan closed his eyes. He was becoming heartily sick of that phrase.

  "Alice, your mother is not feeling well, and she would like you to accompany her back to your room."

  Jonathan wasn't at all fooled by the claim. He could clearly see the determination in his mother's eyes. He had also taken notice of the startled expression on Lady Houghton's face before she managed to cover it with what he supposed she believed could pass for the pathetic expression of an ailing individual.

  "Oh, Mother!" Alice was immediately at the older woman's side, offering her arm for support. "Is it something you ate, do you think?"

  "I, er, I am not sure, dear." Lady Houghton's gaze jumped to Lady Fairley, then away. "It may be. I simply feel awful."

  Lady Houghton was a lousy thespian, Jonathan decided. He sighed unhappily as his chance to get Alice outside, alone under the moon and stars, slipped away.

  "Well, come, we shall get you above stairs and put you to bed." Casting a regretful glance in Jonathan's direction, Alice departed with her mother, leaving Jonathan to turn an irritated glance on his own. Before he could catapult the accusations swimming around in his head, however, she drew forward a young stick like figure in a dress and smiled brilliantly. "This is Lady Estemia Kolpepper, my dear. You have not yet had the chance to dance with her."

  Outmaneuvered again, Jonathan gave his mother a look that promised retribution and took the arm of his latest offering.

  Jonathan was heartily sick of seeing Alice fly by on the arm of some man or other. It did not matter that he himself had danced with equally as many women. The fact was, she was far too popular with the men in attendance at this, his last day of
bridal feasting, and he did not like it.

  The dance finally ended and Jonathan escorted his latest partner off the floor. He left her in the general vicinity of where he had collected her, then strode purposely toward Alice. He'd had quite enough of dancing with clumsy oxen and spoiled mama's girls. Jonathan had also had quite enough of watching Alice dragged across the floor by every lecher at court. Had his mother deliberately invited every ne'er-do-well who gathered around the king?

  "Oh, Jonathan." Alice beamed on him when he paused before her. "Have you met Lord Roderic of Somersby?"

  "Nay, and I do not wish to," was his abrupt answer. He swept her out onto the dance floor as the musicians started again.

  The first song had ended and a second begun before he noticed the way Alice was shaking silently at his side. For a moment, his black mood was displaced by concern that she might be crying or some such womanly thing, but then he glimpsed the expression on her face. It was mirth she was attempting to subdue that was making her shake so.

  "What the devil do you find so amusing?" he asked.

  "You," she answered promptly, a laugh slipping out before she could stop it. "You look like a sulky boy. What has gotten under your cap, my lord? Not enjoying this bridal feast?"

  Jonathan growled at her gentle teasing, his gaze moving hungrily over her sparkling eyes and cheerful grin. "No, but I notice you have been enjoying it."

  "If you think so, my lord, I fear you are sadly mistaken." She spoke so cheerfully, for a moment Jonathan wasn't sure he had heard right.

  "Are you saying you are not enjoying the feast?"

  Her smile slipped and she sighed. "My lord, my feet ache, it is positively stifling in here, and if I have to listen to one more grand tale of bravery in battle, I shall surely die of boredom."

  For some reason, her litany of miseries cheered Jonathan somewhat. He found himself smiling at her in return.

  "My lord, are you aware that the music has changed again?" When he stared at her blankly, she explained, "This is our third reel."

  "I had not noticed," Jonathan admitted wryly. "After three days of feasting and dancing, all the songs are sounding the same." He leaned forward and confided, "I have been judging the length of a dance by how many times my feet were stepped on."