The Knight; His secret author

Their first meeting

5 years ago

*Knightley*

“No flirting this evening, Knight,” King grumbles as his car journeys over the rough road. “I don’t want to have to search through various alcoves for you when I’m ready to take my leave.”

I sigh. “Dash it all, King, if I had known you were going to spoil my fun, I would not have agreed to accompany you on this detour before meeting up with Ace and Joker. I can’t for the life of me determine why you’re going to all the bother and delaying our amusements with the others. You’re not going to marry a chit born out of wedlock.”

“Mother has a soft spot for wounded creatures and feared the girl would suffer through the embarrassment of having no one in attendance at this affair where Brumsberry is introducing her to pack Society. Although the twenty thousand pounds he has settled on her is certain to draw some young bucks.”

Her father is also including in her dowry a small estate on the outskirts of the city that includes several acres of lush land and a manor to serve as her dower house when the time comes. Tonight, it is the setting for the grand ball that has been the topic of wagging tongues among the high packs for weeks. “Do you know anything about her other than her scandalous beginnings and Brumsberry wanting to pawn her off to someone legitimate?”

“She is the daughter of his longtime mistress, who was an accomplished actress, according to Mother. Although she doesn’t approve of infidelity, she still enjoys a good love story and apparently Brumsberry’s was one for the ages. The Alpha was devoted to the girl’s mother and remains devoted to his illegitimate offspring more than to his legitimate ones. I can’t imagine any of it has sat well with his Luna, his heir, or his other two daughters.” King says.

“Do you think any of them will be attending tonight?” I ask.

“I rather doubt it.”

The car comes to a stop. A Servant steps forward and opens the door. I wait until King, has disembarked. While we are equal on many levels, I never forget that until I inherit my father’s title, Alpha of Morrowwind, King outranks me, and I am conscious of showing him the deference he deserves when we are in a public arena.

As we wander toward the manor, a young miss catches my attention and gives me a shy smile. Tipping my hat, I bestow upon her a grin filled with the promise of a kissing lesson to be given in a secluded corner. She is in the process of pressing her fan to her right cheek, the signal for yes, just an inch away from it, when her mother grabs her arm and begins dragging her along. The miss glances back. I press a hand to my chest, to indicate my sorrow that she will be watched by a hawk.

“I said no flirting,” King reminds me.

“I have not sampled Miss Lisbet yet. A kiss doesn’t take that long.” I say.

He scoffs. “So you say, but your reputation states otherwise.”

“Depends on the miss, I suppose. Where’s your sense of adventure, King?” I ask.

“Waiting for me after I’ve seen to this tedious task.”

As we climb the few steps to the open door, several unaccompanied men are making their way inside. Knowing a good many of them, all unmarried, I decide they have been drawn by the money. The spares also probably want to look around the residence in which they might possibly live… if they don’t have one of their own. No reason for the abode to remain vacant until she is a widow.

I note the presence of a few other misses, their curiosity likely getting the better of them. Or perhaps they see an opportunity to contrast themselves against the Alpha’s daughter. At twenty-seven, I have yet to participate in the game of courtship. I am here tonight only because I believe it important to remain in the good graces of every decent Alpha. One never knows when the support of a pack or permission to marry an Alpha’s daughter might be needed. And Brumsberry is a man of influence.

Once we cross the threshold, King and I make our way along the hallway that eventually empties into a large chamber with a wide stairway on either side, circling around to meet in the middle at the top where an enormous doorway yawns. We reach the stairs on our right. A servant offers us each a dance card. King takes one and tucks it inside his jacket, while I simply wave off the vellum. We aren't going to be here long enough to partake in any dances. After our ascent, we greet those standing about whom we know and take our places in the queue.

"What do you think?" I whisper, keeping my voice low and even. "Half an hour?"

"Twenty minutes. A smile here and a smile there, and we'll make our escape."

After the couple before us are introduced and begin their descent, I glance down as King hands his invitation over to the majordomo. I recognize Alpha Brumsberry standing tall, proud, and defiant near the foot of the stairs, his hair having faded from the wheat shade of his youth into silver. The young miss to his right glances up…

I feel like I have taken a battering ram to the chest. All the air in my lungs has backed up and I can scarcely breathe. "Dear goddess, is that her?"

King looks down. "I would assume so."

She is exquisite. Her hair, the shade of moonbeams, is held in place with pearl combs, a few strands dangling about her face and along her slender neck. She barely reaches her father’s shoulder. While she is poised, exhibiting grace with her movements, the tiniest of pleats in her brow reflect an uncomfortableness, perhaps even a sadness. Yet, there she stands performing… like her mother, an actress… because the show must go on.

"My beta?"

Her gown is entirely white, the candlelight from the chandeliers sparkling off what must be a million tiny pearls, making it iridescent, glowing like newly fallen snow under a full moon. It's my favorite time to walk the moors of the country packhouse.

Then I can no longer see her because King with his irritatingly broad back is blocking my view as he makes his way toward Brumsberry. Have I been announced? I haven't heard it, perhaps because I have been so focused on the she-wolf that everything around me has ceased to exist, everything except her.

"My beta?"

Leaning to the right in an attempt to catch sight of her again, I hear a harsh clearing of a throat. Then, "Knightley, for the Goddess's sake, man, do pay attention."

Glancing over my shoulder, I am greeted by the Alpha of Chadbourne glowering at me. I glower back before hearing the quiet, "My beta?"

Only then do I realize the majordomo is holding out a white-gloved hand to me. "Apologies." I offer up my invitation, my name scrawled across it.

The man gives a curt nod before booming, "The Beta of Morrowind."

Wanting to dash down the stairs, I feel rather like an untried youth, which is ridiculous. I have had she-wolves aplenty, but something about her draws me, creates a need to protect her when it is obvious her father serves as her protector. She is a bird in a gilded cage, a girl in a tower. Bollocks, but I am having fanciful thoughts. And I do manage not to dash, but to take my time, carrying myself with the confidence honed by generations of warrior ancestors who have engaged not only in battles on the field but in the political arena. A duty that will pass to me upon my father’s death, a duty that requires a strong she-wolf at my side.

King finally moves on, giving me a clearer view of the she-wolf who shifts her attention back to the stairs, her eyes capturing and holding mine. Now that I am nearer and can see her more clearly, she doesn't appear to be as young as most debutantes. Not fresh from finishing school at seventeen or eighteen. No, I will wager she is on the other side of twenty, but not by much. Enough so, though, to make her interesting, to have had the opportunity to experience a bit more of life. Although I suspect the circumstances of her birth have already granted her that favor… or disfavor, depending how things have gone.

At last, the final step arrives and after five more strides, I am standing before the Alpha of Brumsberry. I give a bow of deference. "My Alpha."

"Knightley, good to see you here. Your father is well I take it?"

While the question seems inordinately polite, it carries an undertone of 'He has best be on his deathbed since he couldn’t bother to show his face here.' While I hardly blame the Alpha, I am loyal to my father. "The Alpha is well, my Alpha. I will relay your concern for his health."

Brumsberry gives a little grunt before continuing. "My Alpha, allow me the honor of introducing my daughter, Althea Leyland."

Had she been his legitimate child, she would have been Miss Althea. I wonder if that lack of honorarium irks her. Bowing, but managing to hold her gaze… her eyes brown, like the soil that nourished the moors in the spring… I take her hand and press a kiss to the delicate fingers, wishing no kidskin separated my lips from her skin. "Miss Leyland, it is indeed a pleasure." I bestod her the title she doesn’t have a right to. Releasing my hold on her, I straighten and offer her the smallest of smiles.

She dips into a graceful curtsy. "My Beta, the pleasure is all mine."

"I wonder, Miss Leyland, if you might have a waltz available?" I ask.

"The fourth, I believe." She holds up her wrist, from which, attached with white ribbons, her dance card and a minuscule pencil dangle. I hate those blasted pencils; they always make me feel like a clod when I try to hold one with my gloved hands. Still, I manage to scrawl my name beside the fourth waltz.

When I am done, I give her a nod. "I look forward to our time together." I turn to go…

"Will you not write my name on your dance card?" She asks.

I wink. "I shan’t forget."

Then I stride over to where King stands a short distance away.

"Did I just see you sign her dance card?" my friend asks, an edge of irritation in his tone.

"Yes, fourth waltz." I admit.

Removing his own dance card from his jacket, King glowers. "That's eight dances away. Need I remind you that we weren’t planning to stay long?"

"Since you won’t be needing that…" I pluck the card from his fingers. "Go on without me, and I will catch up with you later."

"How will you manage such a feat? You’re unlikely to find a taxi around here."

I just smile. "I willwalk back to the city proper and secure one there. Or I’ll borrow someone else’s car. Don’t worry about me, old chap. I’ll make do."

"I'm not going to abandon you here. What possessed you to ask for a dance?" He asks.

I shrug. "I’ve always had a soft spot for brown eyes."

"You have a soft spot for the shade of any pretty she-wolf’s eyes." He huffs.

"True enough. She’s pretty." I say.

He sighs. "A lot of girls are pretty. There must be more to it."

I don’t know how to explain it. "I find her intriguing.”

“Because she didn’t find you so?” King studies me. “You’re accustomed to she-wolves falling over themselves to gain your favor. I didn’t see her waving her fan around to convey secret messages.”

She had looked through me as though I hardly counted. Perhaps that is part of it. I want to impress upon her that I do count, very much indeed.