A Knight in Central Park(85)

“Is he here?” she asked.

Joe breathed a sigh of relief to know she understood. “Aye, he has come and I fear for your life.”

“Do not fret, my love, for as long as you are at my side, I am safe. Besides, I could dare not part until I hear you say that which you feel in your heart.”

This was ridiculous! Joe stood, tugged at her arm, but she wouldn’t budge.

The audience laughed at her stubbornness.

He gazed down at her with a frosty glare, but she wasn’t looking up at him at all. Instead she was admiring his silky hose and whatever else happened to be at eye level. He rolled his eyes and even covered his lower anatomy with his cloak to the delight of the crowd. “Do you mean to tell me that you understand what I’m saying...” He waved toward the audience. “That there is a killer amongst us and yet you care not that you may be in grave danger, but instead only wish to hear me say what? That I love you?”

The women in the audience nearly swooned with romantic delight.

Alexandra lifted her chin defiantly. “How very receptive you are to a woman’s true meaning.”

“For the love of God,” Joe said, fully exasperated. “If I declare such words as you wish to hear, will the fair maiden then seek cover?”

“Of course, but not until said troubadour is back on bended knee as the script calls for.”

Teeth clenched, he fell to his knee with a thunk.

The crowd roared its approval as Joe grabbed her hand and brought it close to his chest. “My heart beats only for you. At night I dream of you—your—er, crimson hair and lips of roses...make that honeyed lips. I love you from your head to your toes.”

A rotund woman with a nose as sharp as an eagle’s beak, stood tall and shouted, “What is this man but a goliard feigning love for a nun when ’Tis clear he could not convince a wench from the Stews that he feels anything but lust as his snug hose dare make clear.”

Sir Joe fixed the woman with a level stare. “Quiet you mangy goat!”

Gasps and murmurs floated through the hall, and the women’s husband touched the hilt of his sword.

Joe threw his arms wide. “What?” he asked innocently. “I said ‘Quite a marvelous coat!’ It’s beautiful.”

There was laughter and a few sighs of relief as the woman and her husband took their seats.

“I am not a goliard from the brothel,” Joe explained to the growing assemblage, “but a scholar of the caliber of John of Salisbury, and I journey from one place to another, not seeking pleasure and excitement, but only knowledge, awareness and understanding. And if I am allowed to finish...” He looked at the obnoxious woman with an arched brow. “I will recount my love for this monastic maiden in a manner more suited to your romantic tastes.”

There were a couple of “oohs“ along with a few “aahs“ and then all was silent as they waited for him to confess his feelings for the woman who sat patiently before him.

Joe spotted Sebastiano in the crowd, in the same spot the hooded man had been only moments ago, but the hooded man had disappeared into the crowd. He could be anywhere.

Turning back to Alexandra, more anxious than before, it took him a moment to remember where he’d left off. But the fervent gaze of anticipation on her face swiftly reminded him.

The audience wasn’t the only one waiting eagerly to hear him make some sort of amorous confession.

The pressure was on.

Swallowing hard, Joe took her hand again, this time noticing its softness, its femininity despite the short nails and years of hard work. Her hand fit nicely into his palm. “I-I do not know where to begin.”

She looked into his eyes and it was clear she wasn’t about to help him out. He’d have to be an idiot not to see that she was taking this whole declaration of love thing quite seriously. No wandering troubadour and monastic maiden here, not in her eyes. This was clearly between Alexandra and Joe. And she wanted the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Damn.

He almost forgot about their audience. That is, until the distant murmuring reminded him that the crowd was growing restless.

“My heart,” he began in a strangled voice, then cleared his throat. “My heart beats faster when you are near.”

His mouth felt dry, his tongue thick. “Like the hooves of a dozen white horses against my chest.”

She cocked her head to one side, waited.

Such a tolerant, patient woman she was, he mused.