The Knight; His secret author

The best gift

He cupped my cheek with his warm hand. He had removed his gloves, in anticipation of touching me, I suppose. Even the surrounding darkness could not prevent our gazes from clashing. I wondered if within mine, he could read the temptation to give in to my desires.

She-wolf, The Alpha of my Desires, A Memoir

*Althea*

Standing in the garden, I can't help but smile at Arianna's excitement as the hour of her party approaches, although it does sadden me that other than myself, Ari’s guests, currently being arranged by my daughter on chairs at the smallest of tables in the garden, are an assortment of dolls. I feel guilty for keeping her hidden away, but presently it's for Arianna's own protection, because I don’t want her to publicly carry the burden of being born out of wedlock.

And I will until I take to husband a man who would treat her as though she was his own flesh and blood, would stare down anyone who arched a brow at her, would call out anyone who uttered an unkind word. Who would ensure she was educated in the best schools, invited to affairs where she would frolic with his contemporaries’ children, and accepted by pack Society so she was fawned over, not for her dowry, but for herself. As I had not been.

As long as my father had been alive, I had known he would shield his granddaughter from the harsh reality of her birth, but when he passed away, everything had pretty much gone to hell. His heir wanted nothing to do with me and isn’t even aware I have a child. My options were limited. Move elsewhere and claim to be a widow or stay here and marry.

When Alpha Chidding had recently called upon me, I viewed him as an answer to my prayers. Although my relief would have no doubt been dashed had he discovered Arianna in the parlor as Knightley had done. I didn’t want to admit how right it had looked to come upon him, his long and lean body perched on the floor, alongside my daughter. Wearing his spectacles, no less.

They have always had the power to twist my stomach into knots. Without them, he is as handsome as sin, but with them perched on his nose, enlarging his blue eyes, he is mesmerizing, a sage who knows all the answers, a wise man who would never be taken for a buffoon. Someone to whom I could bare my soul... and my body.

I had revealed both to him, and he had taken them with such care and treated them so tenderly that I had dared to hand over my heart. Without fear of rejection or being made to look the fool. He had filled me with the sort of joy designed to make me feel I would simply float through the remainder of my life without troubles or worries until he had burst the bubble of my happiness and I had crashed back to reality, bruised and broken.

The wounds had managed to heal until he had danced with me at that damnable ball. I had felt the remnants of the injuries striking again, but they had hurt even more than when freshly inflicted because they had been accompanied by an intense yearning to have him in my life once more.

Had he been correct? Had I written the book to entice him from the periphery of my existence back into the center of it?

No, I didn’t want him there. Even if being swept over the floor by him had been like rushing through a roaring fire, while waltzing with Chidding had been like walking through cool ashes. Chidding is not exciting. He has never set my heart to thundering. But he is reliable. He had come to my aid, concerned I might need him after being with Knightley. He had spoken kindly and with deference. Later, he had claimed his last dance and his gaze had never left me. Appreciation, respect, duty. He offers all three. He would be.

“You came!” Ari suddenly shouted, catapulting me from my thoughts.

My daughter rushes off, and I swing around to follow her but come to a bracing stop, rooted to the spot, unable to go any farther because the you in question is a you I don’t want to encounter. Knightley. One hand holding the handles of a small, closed wicker basket.

His strides are long and confident, but he comes to a halt just as Arianna reaches him, wraps her arms around one of his legs, and gazes up at him adoringly. I had forgotten how easily he could charm any female. “What the devil are you doing here?” I ask smartly.

He has the audacity to bestow upon me one of those devastating smiles while reaching with his free hand into his coat before extending a slip of paper toward me. “I was given an invitation.”

I don’t have to grab it from him in order to view Ari’s familiar scrawl and swirls. When I don’t take it, he tucks it away and looks down at my child as though she is comprised of the moon and stars. “I have something for you.”

He lowers himself to one knee, a knight paying homage, which is exactly what I had thought when he had done the same for me before asking me to honor him by becoming his mate. The memory has me sucking in my breath. The warmth and hope in his eyes. The love or what I’d mistaken for love with which he had watched me had convinced me that happily-ever-afters occurred outside of fairy tales.

Clapping while dancing on her toes, Ari asks, “What is it?”

He folds down the handles and taps the wooden top. “Open it and see.”

But I don’t need for it to be opened to hear the scratching or light whining. I want to snatch the basket away, know it will make my daughter fall in love with him as easily as her mother had, but I don’t have it within me to deny my child this small measure of happiness when only a few minutes earlier I had been lamenting the absence of any guests with the ability to move themselves around.

My throat clogging with unshed tears, I watch as Ari’s tiny fingers take hold of the lid and slowly, carefully lift it. Then a black nose, large black eyes, and brown fur are poking out. Ari’s eyes widen with her delight as Knightley takes hold of the lid and drops it all the way back. “A dog!” She looks at her guest. “Who does it belong to?”

“You, sweetie. Happy birthday.” He says.

Ari jerks her head around to look at me. “Mum?”

A thousand questions are encapsulated in that one word that ends on an unsure note. “It’s a gift, Ari. It’s all right to accept it but do thank the gentleman.”

“Thank you,” she gushes as she reaches in, gathers the wriggling puppy, based on its small size, it can’t be more than a few weeks old into her arms, and lifts him free of his prison.

I wish I could as easily free my daughter from hers.

Ari drops to the ground, releases her hold on the spaniel, and giggles as it pounces on her. “What’s his name?”

“It’s a girl,” Knightley says.

“How do you know?” She asks.

“Yes,” I state succinctly. Perhaps I can make him blush like Chidding after all. “How do you know?”

But then, of course, anything associated with s*x or bodies isn’t going to make the notorious Alpha Knightley blush. He merely flashes an all-knowing grin, the bugger. “She told me as we journeyed here. We spoke of all manner of things. Her name can be whatever you want it to be, sweetheart.”

I want to scold him for using that endearment with my daughter, yet it's innocent enough, even if it brings pain in ways it shouldn't, a reminder of all the times when Ari won't hear her father gifting her with special names.

Ari looks up at me. “Mum?”

“We can discuss it while we’re eating your cake.” I say.

I keep my gaze focused on my daughter, but out of the corner of my eye, I sight Knightley unfolding that magnificent body of his. I have gone too long without a man’s intimate touch. Until this moment, I haven’t realized how much I need another fellow to serve as a deterrent to wanting Knightley.

He approaches, his wonderful sandalwood fragrance wafting around me. “You can hire someone to care for the dog. I will pay for it.”

“No need. We will use it as an exercise in learning the importance of responsibility.” I say.

“A lesson you no doubt think I never learned.” He says.

I give him a pointed look. “You obviously hadn’t learned it five years ago.”

“How long before we leave the past behind us?” He asks.

I raise a slender shoulder, drop it. “Oh, a hundred years or so.”

He chuckles darkly, as though he had expected no other response from me. “Can we not at least call a truce for today... for her sake?”

“I can’t believe you came. She is nothing to you,” I whisper harshly.

“She’s something to you.” He says.

“Dear Goddess.” I bury my face in my hands, move my palms up, and press the pads at the base of my thumbs to my temples. “Your smooth words no longer have an effect on me. Don’t you dare hurt or take advantage of her, Knightley, else I shall see you destroyed.”

My words carry utter conviction, and he doesn’t seem surprised by them either. “Was I to ignore her summons? Would a rebuff not have caused her harm?”

“She’s only four. I doubt she even remembers inviting you.” I mumble.

“How could I be sure? Better to err on the side of caution, don’t you think?” He asks.

I don't know what to think. Except that my daughter looks remarkably happy playing with a bundle of fur. I had wanted to put off getting her a dog until we were situated with a secure future just in case whoever I took to husband wasn’t fond of pets. But as it would no doubt be my dowry responsible for causing him to propose, I suppose I could have a say in whatever menagerie accompanied us to our new home. And if we happened to reside here, well, I would certainly reign over the household and all its occupants… furry and not… then.

“You should have checked with me before bringing that creature,” I scold.

“You would have said no.” He leans toward me, mirth dancing in his eyes. “She had already told me she had to wait until she was six.”

I huff at him. “I will not have you being a bad influence upon her.”

“What about upon you? Could I be a bad influence upon you?” He asks.

“Your days of having any influence upon me are behind us.” Igrowl low.

He smiles cheekily. “Is that a challenge?”

“If it were, are you cruel enough to accept it?” I know the answer before I ask the question. Or at least I once knew the answer. The man I had previously assumed him to be, the one with whom I had fallen so desperately and maddeningly in love, had not shown a scintilla of cruelty until the morning we were to wed. Why then? How had I so vastly misjudged him?

His jaw taut, he looks at my daughter gathering grass stains upon her skirts, the ribbon holding her hair back loosening as she tumbles about with the rambunctious pup. “No,” he says quietly, but it's as though the word travels through the distance of years to reach me.