Knight of My Dreams

by Lynsay Sands

  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 tete-a-tete. 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."

  Alice glanced over at the knight, wondering herself, but he hadn't been paying attention. Without answer, she began, "Oh, aye, well . . ." Lady Fairley suddenly brightened and grabbed Alice's hands. "I have a brilliant idea!"

  "You do?" Alice asked warily, suspecting she would not like what was coming.

  "You are young and would have a better idea of the kind of bride Jonathan would like. Perhaps you could help him, Alice."

  "Me?" She peered at her mother's friend with surprise. This was not something she knew anything about at all!

  "Mother," Lord Jonathan suddenly hissed in warning, but the woman ignored him.

  "Oh, I do not think--" Alice began.

  "'Tis a fine idea."

  Alice snapped her mouth closed and turned disbelieving eyes to her mother. Lady Houghton was suddenly standing before them, beaming. "Mother--"

  "'Twould not be any trouble at all, I am sure,
Margaret. Alice would love to help you with your son. Why, she knows plenty of lovely young women for Jonathan to look over. She's been here at court for some time now."

  "Look over?" Alice frowned, feeling herself react with indignation at her mother's phrasing. "Rather like looking over falcons, choosing one to hood and bind?" She wanted to be wed someday, but not chosen like property--and she imagined other girls felt the same.

  "Aye, it is rather like that, is it not?" Lady Fairley agreed, to Alice's horror.

  "Daughter, you can make a list and arrange for Jonathan to meet with those he finds to his taste," Alice's mother enthused.

  "'Tis perfect!" Lady Fairley cried, then turned to pat her son's arm soothingly. He looked wary as she said, "You see, dear? With Lady Alice's aid, you should have a bride in no time."

  The knight's only answer was a long, drawn-out groan. Alice sympathized.

  Chapter Two

  "Mothers!" Wrinkling her nose in irritation, Alice waited impatiently for the list she had just finished writing to dry. Thanks to her mother's volunteering her for the task, she had spent the better part of yesterday and most of this morning seeking out the names of every available lady at court--a sorry task, to be sure. There were a dozen other things she would rather have been doing, most of them away from here.

  Once, she had been perfectly happy back at Houghton Castle, reading, walking the fields, spending her time in solitary pursuits. Then her mother had begun to worry that she enjoyed her own company too much and insisted on her coming here to London. That had been bad enough in itself--Alice had little patience for the preening and backstabbing she'd discovered went on here at court--but now the dear woman had promised to help her find a bride for Lord Jonathan. Not that it should be so difficult a task. The man was good-looking, strong, and was unquestionably a renowned warrior; the court's ladies would line up to be introduced. But what had possessed her mother to volunteer Alice for this endeavor? Good Lord, her preference for her own company and lack of friendships with other girls her own age had been part of her mother's excuse for bringing her here. How was she now expected to know everyone, and who would be suitable for a man such as Lord Jonathan?

  Well, she supposed she had done well enough in making up a list of the available ladies. All it had taken was a little cleverness. Alice had sought out several of the loudest gossips at court and merely mentioned the task she'd been set. Now she had a lovely list. All she had to do was present it to Lord Jonathan and her chore was finished. Just thinking of the man conjured his face, and she found that disturbing. She paused in waving her list to dry it, and contemplated his features in her mind's eye. The man really was quite handsome. And he had been kindness itself yesterday . . . when he hadn't been scowling or frowning at his mother.

  She smiled slightly at the memory, then stood. Oddly enough, she had found the scowls endearing. At moments, they had transformed the ragged knight into nothing more than a sulky and suspicious child. And it was clear that the man adored his mother, despite his stormy expressions.

  "All finished?"

  She glanced up as her mother entered the room. Alice looked at her list. "Aye. You may take it to Lady Fairley now."

  "Not I." Her mother smiled. "I have an audience with the queen. You shall have to deliver it. I believe my brother mentioned meeting Lady Fairley and her son in the stables. No doubt you shall find them there if you hurry."

  "The stables?" Alice stared at her mother, aghast. "But Uncle has hated horses ever since--"

  "Ever since his mount threw him into that tree, breaking his leg," Lady Houghton finished impatiently. "Yes, yes. I have heard that often enough from him. Yet it appears he is willing to visit and perhaps even ride the beasts to please Lady Fairley. Speaking of which, you had best be off before they are away and you miss them."

  "Oh, but--" Alice cut off her own protest. Her mother was no longer there to hear it; she had rushed out of the room. Realizing that there was nothing for it but to see to the duty herself. Alice allowed herself a moment of distaste, then quickly rolled up the parchment she held and set off.

  Neither Lady Fairley nor Alice's uncle were about, but she did find Lord Jonathan outside the stables. He stood, staring out into the distance, a frown once again clouding his handsome features. Alice paused for a moment to take in his youthful expression, amusement twisting her lips as she gazed upon him. Then, realizing that she was wasting prime reading time--her mother could hardly complain about her loafing around reading if she had an audience with the queen--she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and started forward.

  "My lord," she began. "My mother said I might find yourself and Lady Fairley here. Fortune has apparently smiled upon me, for here you are."

  The knight glanced around at her words and gave a quick nod. "Aye. Here I am. Unfortunately, my mother is not. She is off on a picnic with your uncle."

  "Ah, well . . ." Alice hesitated, as startled by his disgust at that idea as she was by the knowledge itself. Really, she found it difficult to wrap her comprehension around the idea of Lady Fairley being interested in James. The man was a twit. She could not imagine that a woman who had raised such a handsome and strong son as Lord Jonathan would be interested in such a fop.

  Pushing the concern aside for later consideration, Alice offered Lord Jonathan a smile. "I suppose it matters little; I can place this in my lord's hands as easily as my lady's."

  "What is it?" the big man asked, giving her his full attention as he took the scroll.

  "A list of all the eligible ladies presently at court. There are quite a few as you can see."

  "Quite a few?" The knight gaped at the list as he unrolled it. "There are at least forty names here." He gave her a pointed look.

  "Closer to fifty, actually," Alice agreed, stepping back and preparing to make her escape. "Perhaps you could weed through the names and scratch off those who are obviously unsuitable. Then arrange meetings with the rest and--"

  "Brilliant!" Lord Jonathan interrupted. He was looking at her in a way that made her heart flutter. "You and I shall go on a picnic . . . to weed through these names together."

  "A picnic?" Alice stared at him blankly. "Oh, I--"

  "Well, I hardly know these ladies," he reasoned. "I shall need your assistance in learning of them. And you have proven to be a rather quick girl. Come." Ignoring her weak protests, the big man grabbed Alice's arm and rushed her into the stables. "We must get mounts, but then I know just where we will go."

  "Bloody-minded horse, bouncing me around like a sack of wheat! I swear, my arse is the color of--Oh, I suppose I should not be mentioning such things in your presence, my lady."

  Margaret rolled her eyes. James had been complaining since they'd ridden away from the palace into the king's woods, and often with very little concern for the delicacy of his wording. Lady Houghton's brother was rather cruder than she'd expected for a reputed court dandy, and were it possible to use an alternate plan now, she might have considered it. But it was too late for that. Jonathan was already responding beautifully. As she'd expected, her son did not at all care for her recent attentions to James of Houghton. She knew that, as she did for him, her son had very high standards regarding the caliber of anyone she would consider marrying. As if she would ever replace Jonathan's father; what she wanted was grandbabies!

  Lady Fairley paused. Looking about, she drew her horse to a halt in a small clearing and dismounted. Waiting until she had both feet planted firmly on the ground, she spoke patiently while removing the two bags she'd attached to her saddle. "I thought we would picnic here. It is as nice a spot as any."

  The man stared at her, nonplused for a moment, then gasped. "Good Lord, you don't really intend to picnic, do you?"

  "Well, aye, James. 'Twas the idea." Lady Fairley shook her head with amusement. Proceeding to dig out the woolen blanket she'd requested from the king's household for this endeavor, she asked, "Is that a problem?"

  "A problem? Of course 'tis a problem!"
the old dandy sputtered. "Picnics invite all manner of pests and bug infestations. And there are wild animals out here, Margaret. They will be attracted by the smell, and we shall be forced to fend for our very lives over a scrap of cheese and mutton."

  Margaret didn't even bother to roll her eyes at his exaggerated claims; she merely began to lay out the blanket. Calmly she said, "We shall survive, I am sure."

  "But--"

  "Do you wish to marry your niece off or not?" she interrupted impatiently.

  Grimacing, the dandified lord of Houghton grudgingly dismounted.

  Lady Fairley nodded with satisfaction as she settled on the blanket. "I thought so."

  "Hmm." Lord Houghton's face twisted as he ambled over to where she was now pulling out several items from her bags. He eyed the food greedily, yet still managed to sound irritable as he added, "Aye, of course I want the lass married off. I love my sister and daughter, but Elizabeth has always had a sharp tongue, and Alice has recently shown a distressing tendency to follow in her mother's footsteps. The last thing I need is two harping women about!"

  Lady Fairley smiled. Betty had always been rather sharp-tongued. The woman wasn't a shrew by any means, but she was honest. Especially around those she knew well, she did not curb that honesty with kindness. Her lazy, unambitious brother, who had stumbled into her husband's title, had been the recipient of such treatment on many occasions.

  If Alice was showing signs of a similar personality to her mother, it was all as Lady Fairley wished. The last thing she wanted was a sneaky, conniving daughter-in-law. Or a pliant one. She liked to know how things truly lay, and she hoped never to have to wonder with Alice. True, the girl had so far been reserved and quiet, but Margaret believed that was just a show of good breeding. With the right encouragement, the lass would become the brave, thoughtful young woman that Margaret believed would be the only good match for her son. After all, didn't he need someone to challenge him every once in a while, as she herself had done all his life? And a wife needed to be honest, like Alice's mother. And she needed to be someone with enough of a sense of self to be naturally attractive to her son.