The Knight; His secret author

Not like the others

*Althea*

For the entirety of my life, I have been whispered about behind my back. It shouldn't bother me so much that the whispers are in earnest this evening, creating such a low, thrumming din that is nearly impossible to ignore, even if I can't make out the exact words being spoken.

I know it's unusual for the illegitimate daughter of an Alpha to have a grand coming-out. But my father has never treated me with disgust for being born on the wrong side of the blanket. How often has he told me: "You were a creation of love, not duty?"

Even if duty and his other family have kept him away for long periods of time. He had provided a residence for me and my mother. And a governess to care for me when my mother performed. And clothes, a pony, and tutors. And now this ball where I should feel like a princess, but instead, I feel more like the ugly stepsister. Because no matter what he gives me, it's always tainted with the knowledge that my mother wasn't good enough to be his Luna. And by association, neither am I. Not without a substantial dowry.

I know it all to be true because the men who have danced with me thus far have made it abundantly clear. They have taken me on a turn about the dance floor because it was expected. A gentleman doesn't ask for a She-wolf’s hand in marriage without swirling her at least once around the ballroom.

I have learned from my mother how to hold my head up high, how not to let it show that all the tiny cuts are a death delivered by a thousand knives. Ah, yes, Mother was an incredible actress on the stage, but it was her performance in life that should have earned her the greatest acclaim. However, so few saw it because she was hidden away from pack Society except for the moments when she stepped into a theater.

While I don't doubt my father's affection for me, I have never been inside his city residence where he lives with his family, have never been introduced to my siblings or his Luna. Have never been welcomed at his country pack house. He might not be ashamed of me but neither do I feel fully embraced. I am grateful for all he's given me, all he's provided. Yet, still, there seems to be a chasm, something missing, that has begun to yawn all the wider since my mother passed two years ago.

I had hoped this affair tonight would begin to fill the void left by my mother. Instead, it only makes me miss Mum more, especially as my current dance partner doesn't speak at all, doesn't even bother to meet my gaze but stares off into the distance.

Having noticed him chatting with others, I know he is capable of speech. But not with me, apparently. He is cold and irascible. I wonder if I should make him aware that my father would not accept any offer of marriage without my approval. I certainly won't commend someone so taciturn, who looks as though he fears his face might c***k if he so much as smiled.

Unlike Fourth Waltz who is waiting for me when this polka finally comes to an end. His smile isn't large and bold, but it's smaller, almost gentle, the one I have seen a groomsman use when striving to calm a skittish mare. He also locks his blue gaze on my dark one, making it impossible to look away. The man doesn't wait for my current partner to lead me off the dance floor but meets us partway and smoothly transfers my hand from the arm of the gentleman beside me to his own. "I have her now, Wallop."

Gamma Wallop, the second son of an Alpha, gives me a curt bow before marching away.

"I hope he didn't talk your ear off," the Beta of Morrowind says, a bit of teasing and knowledge in his tone. I wonder if he's been watching, knows precisely how many words Gamma Wallop has uttered, or knows the man by reputation and his not speaking while dancing is a common occurrence.

"No, they are still both quite intact." I mumble.

He smiles. "And so very lovely."

Disappointment washes over me because he is going to strive to charm me with false flattery. I know of worse ways to go. I havs just experienced one. The light strains from the orchestra begin to fill the air.

"Shall we?" he asks, and I quite suddenly find myself swept onto the dance floor in a manner more graceful than any I have experienced all night.

Oh, he is good. Accomplished. He must have spent hours perfecting his steps. He makes me feel as though my feet have been lifted from the floor and I am waltzing upon clouds. "So are your coffers nearly empty or completely empty?"

The small smile playing over his lips that promise the sort of kisses I have read about in romantic novels doesn't waver, but his brow does pleat slightly. "My coffers are quite full."

"Then why did you ask me for a waltz?" I ask.

"I'm not quite sure. Perhaps it was the brown of your eyes. Or the fair shade of your hair. The alabaster smoothness of your skin. The fullness of your bottom lip that begs for a man to cushion his mouth there. Or maybe you had the look about you of a she-wolf who was in dire need of rescue." He says softly.

That is a bit too close to how I had felt standing there with my father, smiling, greeting people who, without him at my side, would snub me. "Fancy yourself St. George do you, slaying dragons?"

"Oh, I am quite the Knight," he winks. "Knightley is my given name, although almost no one refers to me as such, of course. Why did you assume I was in need of funds?"

"Because you are titled, you will be an Alpha. I have danced with second sons and seventh sons and every number in between. But no firstborn, no heir. You're the only one thus far. Therefore, I'm striving to determine what you seek to gain." I say.

He smiles ever so charmingly. "Nothing more than a few minutes with a beautiful she-wolf."

I laugh. "Oh, you are a silver-tongued devil, aren't you?"

His smile grows. "You've wounded me to the core. You may have to take a walk about the garden with me to help heal the bruises you inflicted."

"You are a flirt, my beta." I tell him.

"I have told you nothing that wasn't true. Have you met anyone tonight to whom you have taken a fancy?" He asks.

"Good Goddess, no. I'm not even looking." I probably shouldn't confess all that. I don't trust him and yet he is easy to speak with, especially after spending time in the company of one who didn't utter a word. "My father arranged all this, but I'm only here so he's not embarrassed."

"But you're embarrassed." His smile has disappeared. However, such depth of understanding resides in his eyes, I nearly weep.

"I know I'm a curiosity. I know if I see any of these people on the street, they will snub me, pretend not to know who I am. Or worse, let it be known they are very much aware of who I am but find me unworthy of a greeting. His love for my mother has made him blind to..." What we suffered when he was not beside us. Why the devil am I blathering on? Why do I want to confess my heartache to him? "Even you, you will ignore me, when next our paths cross."

He shakes his head. "I daresay I will not."

I give as ladylike a scoff as I can muster and arch a brow. "You claim that now..."

"Tomorrow, the main Park, half four. We'll put your theory to the test." He says.

I have only another few seconds to ponder him and his words before the music drifts into silence, and the din of conversation takes up residence, bombarding my ears and making it impossible to think, to decipher if he is mocking or daring me. Or making a promise, the sort I have little doubt every unmarried lady in the aristocracy longs for, a rendezvous in the park when it would be filled to the brim with everyone anxious to be viewed.

He repeats his earlier smooth maneuver where my hand, suddenly without any effort on my part, finds itself on his firm and solid forearm. He escorts me to the edge of the dance floor, lifts my fingers to his lips, and presses a kiss to the gloved tips so firmly the heat of his mouth manages to make its way to my skin as if no barrier separates us. His gaze, intense and unwavering, never leaves mine. "Tomorrow. I'll find you."

Then he is confidently walking away, leaving me feeling a bit unsteady on my feet, as though something significantly more than a dance has occurred between us.