Chapter Fourteen #3
“You once accused me of being Lord Chester’s concubine,” she said.
“If you want to know the truth, Lord Chester was the father I wish I’d had.
He was kind and patient and he treated me with respect.
You, too, have been kind and patient and have treated me with respect, and we have had good conversations.
You make me laugh. But do not think my laughter or my respect for you means you can take advantage of the situation.
If you try, know that I will leave The Feast and commit myself to a nunnery before I will become anything… unseemly. Am I making myself clear?”
He was trying desperately not to smile because she’d been as brave and unwavering as he’d ever seen her in that neat little speech. She was absolutely serious.
“You are very clear,” he said. “May I make myself clear also?”
“If you must.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “It was never my intention to make you my concubine,” he said. “Ever.”
“Is that the truth?”
“With God as my witness. I would not want you as my concubine.”
Now she was looking the least bit embarrassed. “I see,” she said. “Then I am sorry to have made assumptions. Given what you said to me the first day we met, I… I simply wanted to be clear.”
“I understand,” he said. “And I will be clear now. I said that I would not want you as my concubine because you are too fine a lady for that. But I would want you as my wife. I should like to court you if you will consider it.”
Her face ran the gamut of emotion—surprise, disbelief, shock, and finally confusion. “Me?” she managed to say.
“You.”
“That is impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because… because my father is a very minor lord,” she said as if explaining the obvious. “You are an elite knight. You serve the king. You require a wife with a higher standing.”
He snorted. “I require nothing of the kind,” he said. “You are worth a dozen of those perfumed females. I’ve been around them my entire life and I’ve never met one I was inclined to court. Please, Desdra… say you’ll think on it. I would be grateful.”
Desdra didn’t know what to say, at least not right away.
She was elated, but also cautious. Very cautious.
Did she want to be courted by a man as glorious as Jareth?
A man she’d admired from nearly the start?
A man she’d found more comfort, and more warmth, from than anyone in her entire life?
It wasn’t a difficult question to answer.
Of course she would be delighted to have the man court her.
But there was the little matter of her father.
“If you are genuine, then I will think on it,” she said softly. “But you must think on it, too. You know of my family situation, and it is not a good one. You must understand just how dastardly and conniving my father is.”
“I’ve dealt with men like that before,” he said. “You needn’t worry.”
She shook her head. “You do not understand,” she said.
“My father is a gambler, as you know. If you and I were to… well, to marry, he would use that as collateral for his gambling exploits. He would tell people that his daughter was married to the lord of Aphrodite’s Feast and they would give him endless credit, which he could not pay.
In order to save your reputation, you would have to pay it. Do you understand that?”
She sounded like she was pleading with him by the time she was finished, but Jareth was unmoved. “I would deal with him appropriately,” he said evenly. “It would be a small price to pay for marrying the most wonderful woman who has ever walked this earth.”
It was a sweet thing to say. Desdra was trying not to be distracted by it because she was genuinely concerned that he didn’t understand just what it meant to court her.
Ciaran would try to exploit it by any means necessary.
But it was difficult to keep the smile off her face as she set the stew down and went back over to the bed, pulling the coverlet to his shoulder.
“Enough of that,” she said softly, a glimmer of warmth in her eye. “This arrow wound has made you mad. You must sleep now and rest. I will come back in a short while to make sure you do not require anything.”
Jareth let her fuss with the coverlet, watching her face as she did so. He muttered under his breath.
“I will see you in my dreams,” he whispered.
Desdra didn’t quite hear him. “What was that?”
He started struggling as if it was difficult for him to speak any louder, so she leaned closer. And closer. When she came close enough, he quickly grasped her face with his right hand and kissed her gently on the lips.
“I said that I will see you in my dreams,” he said, loud enough for her to hear. “Thank you for tending me so carefully.”
The stolen kiss startled her, but then she grinned broadly. “You are incorrigible,” she said, stepping away from the bed. “Behave yourself and go to sleep.”
He just smiled at her, a triumphant sort of expression, and she simply shook her head and left the chamber. Shutting the door behind her, Desdra paused a moment, leaning back against the door as she touched her lips as if to feel the imprint he’d left upon them.
Imprint, indeed.
Perhaps something good had come out of the trip to Portbury after all.