Page 108 of The Favourite

He inclined his head as though acknowledging the truth of this. “As the ambassador of the Western Isles, it is in my interest to ensure the Queen remains relevant here in Karadok,” he said reasonably. “Queen Armenal is not the mother of Wymer’s heir. Making every effort to strengthen her position seems a sensible proposition, does it not?”

When Jane remained unconvinced, he sighed. “Would it make you feel any easier in your mind if I told you this suggestion originated with the King’s highest advisor, himself?”

Jane was startled. “Lord Vawdrey?” she whispered. “He suggested it to you?”

He nodded a glimmer of amusement in his eye. “And if anyone has Karadok’s best interests at heart, it is he. You agree?”

Jane nodded slowly. “But the Queen is not at all fond of Earl Vawdrey,” she pointed out, “and I am sure he is aware of the fact. Why would he suggest she make herself indispensable to the King?”

Alisander shrugged. “Because,” he said, “if Wymer is to have a foreign interest whispering in his ear, Vawdrey would rather it was the devil he knows. This impending ‘vacancy’ in the King’s inner circle puts him in a vulnerable position. Even as we speak, jackals circle, ready to pounce.”

Jackals? The image was rather an alarming one. As though noticing her perturbation, Alisander halted before an alcove and led her into it. “And quite besides all that,” he concluded, “Vawdrey is a traditionalist. He believes in the sanctity of marriage.”

Jane considered this. “Lord Vawdrey is a most devoted husband, I believe.”

“Oh, very much so. No one who has seen him with his countess could ever doubt that fact.”

“Hmmm,” Jane pondered. Her fears were somewhat allayed she found, in spite of herself. She liked Fenella Vawdrey very much and only wished the lady spent more time at court. Instead, with two young sons, she attended infrequently these days.

Seeing how intently her husband was regarding her, now they were sheltered from everyone’s view, Jane made haste to rouse herself from her thoughts. He was not going to kiss her, was he? Seeing the gleam in his eye, she felt a lurch of alarm. “You will not tell the Queen that your idea originated with Lord Vawdrey?” she asked in an attempt to distract him.

“Gods, no!” He pulled a face. “As you say, she thinks Vawdrey has too much influence at court already. It would simply set her against the idea.” He took a step forward, effectively pinning Jane against the recessed wall.

“My lord!” she protested breathlessly.

“Yes, Jane?”

“This is—well—it is highly improper!”

“Is it? How can it be? We are married, are we not?”

“Yes, but—”

“How, then, can there be any impropriety?”

“We are in the Queen’s quarters!”

“Does her Presence Chamber really count?” he scoffed, placing a hand over her breast—her modestly covered breast—but all the same, she could feel his hand there and it was affecting her ability to breathe. “Any rabble is admitted these days, I find,” he said dismissively.

“Rabble that could discover us at any moment!” she pointed out in scandalized tones.

“Then you must keep a look out wife and ensure such a terrible fate does not befall us.” Jane tore her panicked gaze from his to stare over his shoulder at the portion of the room she could make out. His face was so close to hers; she could feel his breath on her cheek as he spoke. “You look so pretty, Jane, I cannot standit. You must take pity on me and let me have a taste of your lips.”

Jane’s resolve instantly wavered. In truth, he did sound a little tortured. She ventured a quick look at his face to judge his sincerity. It was a mistake. Instantly, his mouth was upon hers, their breath mingling. His lips were firm and insistent, arrogantly sure of their right to take her own, in spite of his beseeching words. Instead of repulsing him, as she ought, Jane melted into him, parting her lips in an invitation he was not slow to take up, and Jane was instantly lost.

When she surfaced moments later, he was holding her firmly upright as she sagged against him. “Jane,” he murmured, and she could hear the laughter in his voice. “Your eyes are closed. You are supposed to be keeping a watchful eye.”

She whimpered, and he tightened his arms about her. “Shall I say you have been taken faint?” he suggested. “Carry you out of here and back to our chambers and lay you down so I can take care of you properly? Hmmmm?” To her shock, he sounded quite pleased with the idea. Also, she had a very clear notion of what he meant by “take care of her properly.” “What do you say, Jane?” he wheedled, kissing her hot neck.

“No, no, you cannot!” she moaned.

“Why can I not?”

“Everyone will stare! Please, Alisander, please!” she begged, realizing her first argument would hold no sway with him. “I could not bear it.” She made no conscious choice to break out the tears, but her eyes filled with them anyway, and she clutched at him like a supplicant.

He swore softly, cupping her heated cheek. “Jane, you take advantage of my weakness for you,” he said sternly. “My idea is a good one. Why can I not?”

She could not even argue, just shook her head as a tear tracked down her cheek and over his fingers. Why did he always inspire such strong feelings in her? It alarmed her, after all the years she had spent privately thinking herself superior to those emotional types, always in the grip of their feelings. She had always prided herself on her privacy and reserve. Yet, here she was, ridiculously swayed by a kiss, her composure quite shaken.