He stared hungrily at her breasts where they pressed against his bare chest, nipples hard and aching. Then he cleared his throat and forced his gaze to her face. “Now is not exactly a good time to ask. There are many men who, in a moment of passion like this, would say whatever was necessary in order to win the lady’s surrender. But you can trust my word. I do love you—I have loved you long before this moment. If you doubt my sincerity, remember I asked you to marry me not so very long ago. Not very coherently if I recall, but I’ve had no practice in asking so important a question. I behaved like a peasant, and apologize. Brave, beautiful Alys, I love you dearer than my own life.”
She brushed a kiss across his mouth, his eyes, his forehead. If only this moment could last forever.
He stole a kiss on his own account—long, hard, determined. Then he gazed down where their two bodies touched and said, “I rather think you must marry me now, my darling, or risk disgrace.”
She’d happily risk disgrace for a moment like this. “I’ll think about it.”
“You will not. There is no thinking to be done. We shall be wed as soon as is humanly possible. Promise me now.” He gave her a gentle shake. Her hair tumbled forward, brushing the firm muscles of his chest.
“Very well, I promise to marry you.”
His expression was incandescent. She reveled in the heat of his joy. “And promise to love me also.”
That was an easy vow to make. “I do. I will. Always.”
She drew her finger teasingly along his breastbone and saw his nipples peak. How delightfully strong his body was, yet sensitive and gentle, too. He had more secrets and wonders at his command than she could ever have imagined—and she was determined to explore them all. With slow deliberation, she lifted her hips and stroked her hand down his stomach.
“When Kate was pretending that you and she were lovers, she boasted that you made love like a stag in rut, like a charging bull. I wonder how she could have imagined such a thing.”
He looked perplexed for a moment. Then his lips folded back in a lazy smile that sent shivers up her spine. He moved suddenly and rolled over, trapping her beneath him.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Morning sunlight shafted through the gaps in the shutters, prodding Kit awake. Alys still slumbered in his arms, and he had no desire to leave their bed and face the day.
But face it he must. Too many people knew he’d been locked, naked, in Alys’ room.
There would be consequences. He withdrew slowly, so as not to wake her, then walked across the room to try the door. It was no longer locked. When had that happened?
He peered out. There was no one in view, although the familiar sounds of the court suggested that most people were already up and about their business. Looking down, he saw a pile of fabric, surmounted by a folded piece of paper.
Keeping as much of his naked body behind the door as possible, he pulled the items inside. When he shook out the cloth, it resolved itself into a heap of men’s clothing. His clothing, from the night before.
Fury warred with amusement. He might not approve the method, but he liked the results.
Should he string Rupert and his cronies up, or should he make them each a gift?
He turned, to see that Alys, tousled and rosy-cheeked, was now out of bed and shyly lacing up her bodice. A pity. But there would always be another night, another morning when they might take their time.
He grinned at her and gestured with the pile of clothes. “Well, that’s one problem solved. I shall not have to go naked to arrange our wedding.”
She joined him as he shook open the note which had accompanied the clothes, her slender arm snaking around his waist. Aloud, he read,
“ ‘To My Lord Ludlow and Mistress Alys Barchard.
Be it known to you both that your wedding has been arranged for three of the clock this afternoon. It has pleased me to make the arrangements and bear the expense myself. Alys, you have my blessing, although I shall regret losing you from court. Ludlow, there is no need to call anyone out—I know you have been tricked, and will deal with the tricksters in my own way. I believe Walsingham has need of several young men to train in the art of deviousness. Failing that, there’s always the stables.
I only hope, Ludlow, that you will beg forgiveness for taking the bride before the wedding. Greed is a sin, but I know I can rely on Alys to punish you for it.’ ”
He stared mutely at Alys.
“Is it from the queen?”
He nodded, showing her the royal signature with its distinctive flourishes.
The color fled from her cheeks. “Will the whole court know our shame?”
He gave her a squeeze, smiling. “Nay, I think not. Bess can be subtle when she wants to be. As well as persuasive. She will have arranged matters to our satisfaction, have no doubt of it.”
Alys nodded. “Good. I was beginning to fear our courtship was becoming the most public ever to occur.”
He dropped the note, taking her hands in his, and losing himself in her blue-grey eyes. “It matters not, my dearest, so long as we have each other. I promise that for every public moment of courtship there will be a thousand private ones. I mean to be the perfect husband.”
And every moment he spent with Alys, be it public or private, would be nothing less than perfection.
About the Author
Elizabeth Keysian is an international bestselling author of heart-pounding Regency romances, set mostly in the West of England. She is working on a fresh series for Dragonblade Publishing called Trysts and Treachery, which is set in the Tudor era. Though primarily a
