The Knight; His secret author

Princess

*Althea*

I refuse to be charmed by the sight of Knightley sitting on the tiny chair, his legs splayed so he is within easy reach of his platter and glass, his knees nearly touching his chest. I take great delight in the horror crossing his features when a servant brings out the cake and sets it upon the miniature table, and Knightley realizes we will be celebrating Ari's birthday with the dolls.

"Did your invitation not mention the dining arrangements?" I ask smugly.

"I somehow overlooked that particular detail." He says.

He had been incredibly gracious, though, when my daughter pointed out that he is to sit in the chair beside her. Because of his cordiality, I order a servant to "fetch the Alpha a glass of scotch."

"So you've agreed to a truce," Knightley murmurs, leaning forward to where I sit across from him.

"For an hour."

Ari introduces him to her dolls, and he assures each one that he is pleased to make her acquaintance. I am left with the resounding conviction he would make a wonderful father, and that perhaps I should have had Chidding on hand to compare them.

But such a contest would serve only to leave me discontent with a choice that must be made. I need a man upon whom I can rely, not one who even now still possesses the power to make me yearn for his touch, his scent, his kiss.

The pup, no doubt striving to recover from the earlier exuberant play, sleeps at Ari's feet. She has fairly worn herself out, although she still maintains an abundance of energy. "What should we name her?" she asks, just before shoving cake into her mouth.

While I hate to do it, I know it's never too early to begin teaching manners and etiquette. "Ari, you should address him as my Alpha. He's an Alpha, you see."

"What's an Alpha?" She asks.

"It's a rank within the high packs. The leader." I explain.

She nods, then ask, "What's a high pack?"

"It's . . ." Something she should not have been denied.

"I give you permission to call me Knightley," my guest says.

I sigh, "Knightley!"

"She's four, Althea. And she invited me to her party, so we're friends. It's acceptable. Unless you want to spend the afternoon explaining the packs and titles." He says.

I sigh. The man always complicates matters. "We'll make an exception for the day."

"Very good. Regarding the name for your pup, whatever you like." He tells her.

I'm not going to weep at the way Knightley places an elbow on his firm thigh and bends toward my daughter so they can discuss and discard various names, as though I have no say in the matter.

It doesn’t help the situation that from the moment I realized I was with child, I have only ever been able to envision Knightley cradling the baby in his strong arms, offering his protection... and love. I have moments of despising him followed by hours of thinking no one else would ever treat my daughter as well. Chidding would. Certainly. Have I ever asked him about children? He would no doubt want me to deliver to him an heir and a spare. But surely the kindness he has bestowed upon me thus far, in spite of my lack of proper parentage, is an indication of his benevolence toward all creatures.

“Princess!” Ari shouts.

With a start, I glance around wildly. With Knightley’s appearance, I most certainly wouldn’t be surprised to find someone from a royal household had also arrived. “Where?”

Ari laughs delightedly. “The puppy. We’re gonna call her Princess.”

I clap a hand against my breast, to stop my heart from striving to push through my ribs. Then I chuckle low. With this child, there is never a dull moment. “Oh, the dog.”

The dog that has awoken and is now licking cake off Ari’s fingers. “Do you like it?” Ari asks hopefully.

“Your grandfather used to call me his princess.” Reaching out, I tweak my daughter’s nose. “You probably don’t remember but he called you that as well.” Just as my father had made me a princess in a tower, so I am doing the same for my daughter. But only for a short time, and then we will climb out of the tower together. “I like it very much.”

“It was his idea.” She points at Knightley. He appears neither smug nor haughty, but rather subdued. Odd when he’s obviously won the naming game, and he is very fond of winning. But in some strange way, he almost looks as though he has lost.

“Of course it was. Splendid name.” I give my head a little bow. “Well done.”

“A compliment. I like this truce,” he says.

I huff, “Don’t get used to it.”

“What’s a truce?” Ari asks.

I smile fondly as I tug on one of my daughter’s earlobes. “Little ears hear everything, don’t they? And little girls need an afternoon nap.”

“Can he nap with me?” Once more, she directs her tiny finger Knightley’s way.

He seems as surprised by the request as I am. “Absolutely not.” Before my daughter can object and cause a row, I add, “But the puppy can.”

I look past Ari to where the nanny waits patiently, having arrived only a few minutes earlier. “Have a servant assist you with Princess. Perhaps she can sleep in the basket.” I turn my attention to Ari. “Now, come give me a hug.”

My daughter does, and I glory in the small arms tightening around my neck. Nothing is more magnificent. When she is finished, Ari runs around to the other side of the table and flings her arms around Knightley’s neck. “I love you,” she declares.

His look pierces me with pure devastation as his arm wraps around her, pulling her close. "I love you, too, moppet," he rasps, and I find myself hating him even more in that moment for how easily he can utter words he doesn't mean.

I want to reach across the table and snatch my daughter away from him. Wish I could be completely free of him. Marriage. He had promised that once I was married, he would disappear from my life for good. I need Chidding, now more than ever, because I can't bear having this man near my daughter. Because one day, he will let her down, hurt her.

I'm not sure what expression is on my face, likely something akin to loathing, which is probably why the nanny comes over and gently takes my daughter away from our guest. "Come along, little one. Let's show this puppy all the joys of the nursery."

"Oh, yes! Let's!"

Normally, Arianna might resist the idea of a nap, but today she has someone to share it with. She follows the Nanny, chatting away, whether to the she-wolf or the dog, I can't quite tell. But I remain still, unmoving, until my daughter is safely inside the residence. Then, I force myself to stand. "The party and the truce are over. Get the hell out of my sight."

He rises slowly, so agonizingly slow. "Go for a ride with me."

I feel a scream building inside me. "Can you not understand that I want nothing to do with you?"

"But you do want Chidding. We need to strategize, speed up the tortoise." He says.

I can't help but laugh, almost hysterically. "Are you not familiar with Aesop? Slow and steady wins the race. You were the hare and you lost. Don’t ever come here again."

I turn sharply and start marching towards the residence.

"Was she a difficult birth?" He asks.

After only a few steps, I stop and spin around. He hasn't moved. "Why do you care?"

"I can't stop thinking about you being alone. I want to put my fist through her father’s face, for how hard his absence must have made everything for you." He says.

Damn him, for the genuine remorse in his voice, the anger, the understanding of what I might have gone through. "I assume you rode here."

"I did."

"Shakespeare?" I ask.

He nods slightly.

"I'll need to change. Meet me at the stables."

If he had grinned with triumph or gloated, I would have stormed off to the residence, locked myself in the library, and buried myself in a book, leaving him to wait for hours. But instead, he simply says a quiet "Thank you," and walks away.