Page 139 of The Favourite

Jane paused, struggling to find the right words. “As a matter of fact, I am not desperate to please anyone, just you.

She saw the look of surprised pleasure flicker over his face before he propped himself up on his elbow. “What about … the Queen?” he asked in a casual tone, his eyes glancing away from her own toward the flames flickering in the fireplace.

“What about her?”

He frowned slightly, catching hold of her hand and threading his fingers through hers. “You should strive to please your husband more than your monarch.”

She slid a glance at his face. “She’s your monarch too.”

“Actually, she isn’t,” he contradicted her. “I’m still officially a subject of her brother’s.”

“Well, but you are in a foreign land, so I always thought your first loyalty would be to Queen Armenal.”

“Then you thought wrong,” he answered swiftly.

“I was?”

“My first loyalty is to you, Jane.”

She felt strangely winded by this and incapable of reply, at least for the moment, and simply squeezed his fingers.

“Tell me again,” he said abruptly.

“Tell you what?”

“That’s it’s only me you want to please.”

“You—” Jane glanced away. “Surely your first loyalty is to King Wilhelm?” she hedged.

“King Wilhelm killed my brother.” He shrugged. “So, fuck Wilhelm. I feel no loyalty to that bastard whatsoever.”

“Alisander!” Jane clutched at him, paling.

He laughed. “There is no one to hear me here but you,” he pointed out, running his hand down her side and pulling her tighter into him.

“You should not say such things out loud,” she chided him.

“Why?” He caught her gaze. “You, I trust implicitly.”

Jane gulped. “I am not used to your frankness,” she admitted in a wobbly voice. “It is a little unnerving.”

He shrugged. “There are occasions when nothing else will do.” He hesitated. “When I called you my dove, Jane, all those times, you did know what I was really saying, didn’t you?” He lifted their hands, contemplating their intertwined fingers. Jane pressed her lips together and shook her head. He tutted. “But of course, you did, or you would not have asked me that question.”

Jane’s heart quailed and she made an involuntary movement as though to push away from him. He tightened his arm about her. His other hand came to rest gently against her cheek. “You were so clever, Jane,” he said in a marveling voice. “So brave, and I was such a coward and I hurt you.”

She swallowed and mustered the courage to meet his eyes. The expression there stunned her. “Please ask me again, Jane. Ask me now.”

She opened her mouth. “Am I—am I your first dove, Alisander?” she croaked, repeating a question she had loathed herself for ever voicing. She could not believe she was saying it again.

“You are my first and only love, Jane,” he answered truthfully. “I did not know I was capable of it before you. I did not think I was made that way.”

Jane dropped her gaze, clinging to him for dear life. “When did you? I mean—”

“When did I fall in love with you?” he asked, the words making Jane’s head reel. He looked evasive. “I’m not sure. It was years ago now.” He glanced away, his expression strange.

It dawned on Jane that his face was registering embarrassment, something she had never seen from this shameless creature before. She brought her hand down heavily on his bare chest. “Tell me!” she insisted, trusting her instincts on this.

He grimaced. “Oh very well!” he said grudgingly, reaching above them for a pillow which he pulled down over his face. Not surprisingly, his next few words were muffled.