Page 134 of The Favourite

“That gown is highly unsuitable,” he said in a low voice, narrowing his gaze. “As is, this visit.”

“I thought you would like it,” Jane said, glancing down at her new gown. “Is it not as you envisaged?”

“No,” he answered heavily.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” She had the nerve to pat the bed beside her.

He huffed. It was all bluster, of course. “Very well.” He stood up. “If that’s what you want.” He strolled over to the bed. “Shall we just toss up your skirts or ...?” Instead of responding to his crude words, Jane held up her arms to him, and he knew he was lost.

Fuck it, he thought. He could roll around with her on that sagging mattress for a minute or two without losing his resolve. Besides, that would surely be enough to call her bluff. He sat beside her, dragging her into his arms.

Or rather, Jane pulled him into hers. Her embrace was so enthusiastic that he was the one overborne. He landed on his back and remained there as Jane kissed him as though her sweet life depended upon it. He returned her kisses in the same spirit, expecting her to call a halt at any moment.

She did not call a halt. Not even when he ran his hands all over her, groping and grabbing in most unseemly fashion. “Jane,” he said finally, tearing his mouth from hers. “What the fuck are you doing? Are you unaware there is an open grill in that door and soldiers patrol that corridor every quarter hour? One of them will doubtless get a good look at us, if they have not already, and news of it will be all over the palace.”

“I do not care,” she replied breathlessly, her eyes still on his mouth, her arms tightening about his neck. “And neither should you.”

“They will say,” he persisted ruthlessly, “that you came to service me in a grubby prison cell. It will be a salacious tale bandied about in both guard and throne room.”

“Do not regard it, Alisander,” she begged. “I promise you, I won’t.”

He stared at her. “Jane …” He was genuinely shocked.

“I won’t give it a thought, I promise,” she assured him fervently.

“Jane,” he repeated on a groan this time. He spent a good half minute crazily contemplating it before he came back to his senses. “I can’t do it, my dove,” he replied honestly. “I respect you too much, and besides, I would have to sneak back here in a month’s time and murder whoever witnessed it. I’m not speaking in jest when I say this,” he added seriously when she made as though to protest. “It could cause some awkwardness. Chevenix’s family is fairly well-connected.”

Jane lowered her pleading gaze a moment. “What if—what if we hung something across the grill to obscure their view?” she suggested, biting her lip. “We could use my cloak.”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the sight, lest his resolve shatter. When he opened them, he felt a little calmer. “If we did that, they would surely break down the door,” he explained, “which would be even worse. I could not stand armed men being in the same room with us at such a time.” He ran a hand comfortingly up and down her back.

She nodded, but the regretful look in her eye nearly undid his resolve. “I understand,” she said, looking so disappointed that he had to kiss her again. “Jane, my sweet,” he was forced to finally protest when she did not. “We have to stop.”

She eyed him with frustration. “No! If you—” Jane turned very red. “If—”

“What?” he asked, catching his breath. Suddenly, he was desperate to know what she had been going to say.

“If you love me, you would not stop,” she said, unable to meet his gaze.

“Jane,” he gasped, quite enchanted by her words. “What has come over you? First you attempt to seduce me and now to pry a confession from me.” She would not look at him. If they weren’t all tangled up in each other, he was pretty sure she would be leaping off the bed right now and banging on the door to be let out. The thought was quite unbearable to him. He rolled over her to prevent her escape, caging her in with his body.

“I do. I do love you,” he breathed raspily. Strange to say, it felt like a great weight off his chest to admit it. “I always have, I think. It’s the stupidest thing. Now, be a good girl and tell me that you love me.”

“N-no,” she gulped. “Not until you come back home.”

Home? Where on earth was that supposed to be? Alisander regarded her speechlessly a moment, his feelings scattered and confused. He smoothed his thumb over her lips. “But this is quite outrageous,” he murmured. “What are you trying to achieve right now? Hmmm?”

“Lord Vawdrey told me that it is all your own fault you are here,” she blurted, “and that he will release you as soon as you ask him to.”

That bastard, Alisander thought wrathfully. Trust Vawdrey to throw him to the wolves! “Well, my dove—” he began patiently.

“And I don’t want you to call me that anymore.”

“What?” That struck a blow. “Why not?” Jane shook her head, looking obstinate and refusing to answer. “Jane, this is not kind of you,” he said severely. “You visit your poor, beleaguered husband under the guise of giving him succor, and instead you cruelly torment him.”

“Oh, yes,” she answered mutinously, “I had forgotten that the role of tormentor was yours alone.”

He paused, steeling himself to be stern and speak of duty when all he wanted was to hold her close. “Do you really imagine that I would languish here, if it was safe for me to return to your side? Now, we both of us have our part to play. I need to remain here for—oh—at least another two weeks, and you need to journey down to Kinnerton with our household where you can wait this out in peace and comfort, away from prying eyes.”