Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (11 page)

Gisella was trying not to smile. “I do not remember that part,” she said, her hand still on the bump on her skull. “But I do know that the real power in our family is from Mama, not Papa.”

Gannon snorted in agreement. He was nearly to the hall doorway that led out into the corridors beyond when Lucas suddenly appeared, looking rather concerned by the state of the room.

“God’s Beard,” Lucas exclaimed. “What goes on here?”

Gannon shook his head. “Drunken guests and a runaway horse,” he said. “The combination can come to no good so I am, therefore, removing my sister. She is injured.”

Lucas’ attention immediately turned to Gisella, who looked a bit pale. She was also covered in horse droppings. “Why does she have shite all over her?” he asked.

Gannon rolled his eyes at the man’s blunt question. “Because she was nearly killed,” he said. “Ask no more, for it does not matter. What matters is that I will take her back to her chamber where she can rest. I will also summon a physic to tend her head.”

Lucas grasped his arm before he could walk away. “You are taking her to Gloucester’s solar,” he informed him. “You have both been summoned.”

This time, Gisella spoke before Gannon could. “Why?” she demanded. “Did de Russe speak with him? Does he have something to say about our betrothal?”

Lucas nodded. “I would assume so,” he said. “You had better not keep Gloucester waiting.”

Gisella looked at her brother. “Put me down,” she told him. “I can walk. In fact, I would walk to the gates of Hell if it meant a reprieve from my betrothal to that man. Hurry, let us see what Gloucester has to say about it.”

Gannon carefully lowered her to the ground, holding on to her until she regained her balance. “I can attend for you,” he told her. “You have suffered a nasty fall. Why not retreat to your chamber? I will come and tell you what was said.”

Gisella was already on the move, looking dirty and disheveled in her silver tunic and hose. “I will hear myself,” she insisted. “Come along, now, do not lag behind.”

Gannon and Lucas hurried after her as she practically ran down the corridor, past the elaborate sconces with their oil lamps that burned black and sooty up to the painted ceiling, until they came to the east wing where the extravagant solar was located.

As they approached, they could hear voices emitting from inside the room and Lady Gloucester’s most clearly. Her voice was high-pitched and strained. Gisella nearly bolted into the room, eager to be told she had a reprieve from marrying the great and terrible Beast. When all eyes in the room turned to her and her filthy costume, Lady Gloucester appeared horrified.

“Gisella!” she exclaimed. “What has happened to your clothing?”

Gisella looked down at herself, trying not to feel too self-conscious. “There was an accident, my lady,” she said. “The party has gone quite wrong and my horse ran off. But I am well enough to attend you. I am told that I have been summoned?”

Lady Gloucester was still quite drunk. All she seemed to be able to focus on was the comment about her party. “What has happened to my affair?”

Gisella was trying not to upset Lady Gloucester because the woman was easily disturbed. “The horse must have spooked,” she said. “Do you recall that I suggested we not use him for the entertainment? He is quite skittish. I am not exactly sure what happened because I fell to the floor. I did not see all of it.”

Lady Gloucester’s eyes widened and she was up in arms. “My entertainment!” she gasped, running for the door as much as her unsteady legs would take her. “I must see to my guests! Oh, the anguish of it all! It was so perfect, so very perfect!”

She was almost out of the door when her husband called to her. “Wife!” he said. “The banquet will wait. You have a wedding to attend!”

Lady Gloucester was in tears as she paused in the doorway, slouching against the doorjamb in her fine dress with its bejeweled collar. She was too drunk to care much about anything other than her ruined party. She began to carry on as if she had just lost a child, for Lady Gloucester was dramatic and passionate at best.

“Gisella,” she sobbed. “You will marry de Russe and that will be the end of it, do you hear? And your horse… he is your horse and now he has ruined my party and possibly my reputation. It is all
your
fault, you and your silly beast. Marry de Russe and leave Bella Court. I do not want you here any longer!”

Gisella was stricken. “But...!” she gasped. “I did not…!”

Lady Gloucester cut her off. “
Go
,” she screeched. “Marry de Russe and be gone from my sight!”

With that, she fled the solar, reducing Gisella to tears for more reasons than one. It was evident that her marriage to de Russe would go through as planned but, more than that, a woman she admired greatly and who had taught her much was essentially throwing her from the only home she had known for the past two years. She was devastated to lose that relationship. She had been so very happy at Bella Court.

So she stood there and tried very hard not to sob openly, wiping at her cheeks as the tears spilled over and ignoring everyone in the room, including her brother. She felt ashamed, lost, and sickened at the course her future was about to take. Marrying a warlord who was a stranger to her, a man with a plethora of shameful rumors about him spreading throughout London like a plague. She would be pulled into that plague, too, and the thought made her nauseous.

What were her parents going to say? How would they react to their daughter being wed to man rumored to have deflowered the Maid? And her father… he was a knight so he knew the vocation and he knew the character of the men who served. He knew their hearts. Gloucester had said her father had approved of this match but she wondered if her father really knew much about de Russe other than Gloucester’s glowing review. Of course the man would speak well of him De Russe did the Crown’s bidding, no matter what the cost. He was their trained dog, their muscle and might. He was their Beast.

Now, he was hers.

It was very late by the time Gisella was packed and ready to leave Bella Court. The moon hung low over the Thames, a fat, yellow thing glistening off the water, as Gisella moved about in the well-appointed chamber she shared with four other young women, all wards of Lady Gloucester. Two of those young women were with Lady Gloucester at this moment, attempting to calm her, while the third young lady helped Gisella pack. The mood of the chamber was somber as the women moved about, packing two large cases and one smaller capcase.

“She did not mean what she said, Gigi,” Lady Sparrow Summerlin spoke softly as she carefully packed two bars of white, lumpy soap that smelled of lemons. “She was drunk. You know she will not remember what she said and by morning will be wondering where you are. You are her favorite. You know that. Are you sure you must leave?”

Gisella nodded faintly, glancing at her petite, very lovely friend with the glorious blond hair. “Aye,” she replied. “She ordered me away and then Gloucester brought in his priest to perform the marriage sacrament. You know that priest, the one who beats the acolytes and no one does anything about it. He is a very nasty man and I dislike him intensely.”

Sparrow nodded as she finished tucking the soap into the smaller capcase. “Father Joseph of Orange,” she said. “I know him. He really performed the marriage sacrament?”

Gisella thought back to the very odd, very swift marriage ceremony conducted in Gloucester’s solar with those pounded silver suns on the ceiling smiling down at them. Smelling of horse dung and dressed in a torn costume, she was forced to stand next to de Russe, who smelled unwashed himself, as the priest with the stained robes and big, bulbous nose performed the marriage mass.

It had been a quick, almost callous mass, nothing like the weddings she had attended in the past and certainly not like a wedding she had hoped for herself. There had been no meaning to it, no emotion. Nothing about it had been personal or spiritual and when it was over, she was what she never wanted to be. She was Lady de Russe.

All she could manage to feel at that moment was empty. No joy, no pleasure. Somehow, something had been stripped away from her and she had become something, and someone, she did not want. She was the wife of a great warlord, something she had resisted until the bitter end. Gloucester had congratulated her before leaving the solar with his priest, leaving her standing there in awkward silence with her new husband and his two knights, one of which was her brother.

De Russe had barely spoken a word to her before turning her over to her brother as he fled with his other knight, leaving the two siblings standing alone in that cold silver room with the cold silver suns. That which they had both feared had come to pass but there was no use talking about it. It was done.

Therefore, Gannon had been kind but businesslike, escorting his sister to her shared chamber and instructing her to bathe and pack. He gave her a couple of hours and told her he would be back for her by midnight. Now, that hour was swiftly approaching and Gisella was struggling to pack even with Sparrow’s considerable help. When this should have been the most exciting night of her life, all she could feel was dread.

“Gigi?” Sparrow asked softly. “Did you hear me? Did the priest really perform the marriage mass?”

Gisella realized she hadn’t answered her friend the first time, lost in her recollections of the evening as she was. After a moment, she nodded.

“He did,” she said, sounding depressed. “I am now Lady de Russe.”

Sparrow regarded her friend. She, too, had been part of the performance in the great hall and had seen the fiasco caused by the nervous horse. When the horse had fled and the diners began wandering away, Sparrow had spied a pale-appearing Gisella being escorted by a tall, handsome knight who turned out to be her brother. When she ran to Gisella to see what the matter was, Gisella’s brother gave a brief summary of the evening’s events because Gisella seemed too upset to speak.

After that, Sparrow had accompanied them back to their shared bedchamber and once Gisella’s brother had departed, she had received even more of an explanation from Gisella once the woman had sufficiently calmed. It had been a shocking and somber tale.

So she had helped Gisella bathe and clean the horse dung from her hair, and then she had helped the woman dress in a dark blue woolen traveling dress that was both warm and practical. It had a snug bodice with a corded belt looped around her tiny waist, layered sleeves that could be buttoned back or left long depending on the weather, and a built-in hood that could be tightened for protection against the elements. Gisella’s wet hair had been tightly braided in a thick, single braid that trailed down her back and ended at her thighs.

Gisella was, therefore, physically ready to travel but her mental state had been something altogether different. She moved slowly, methodically, packing her capcases with hardly a word of chatter, which was very unusual for her. Gisella was usually quite talkative and interesting, but not tonight. Sparrow’s heart ached for her friend and the life she was surely now facing. The more she thought about it, the more distressed she became.

“Gigi,” she said thoughtfully as she closed the lid to the smaller capcase. “Do you know what I think?”

Gisella shook her head as she began to pull on her soft, lamb’s skin gloves. “Nay.”

Sparrow slid the lock on the case into position, securing it. “I do not think I want to remain here at Bella Court after you depart,” she said frankly. “I would be left alone with Silly Lily and Giddy Bridget, and all the rest of the women in the duchess’ entourage. You were the only one who made it bearable. With you gone, I shall surely go mad.”

Gisella smiled weakly. “I am sorry, darling,” she said, fussing with the gloves. “If I could bring you with me, I would.”

“Why can’t you?”

Gisella looked up at her. “Because this is my burden to bear,” she said. “It is not your business to go with de Russe. It is mine.”

Sparrow cocked her head thoughtfully. “But you are now the wife of a great warlord,” she said. “You should have ladies, you know. It is your due. Besides, he is going to leave you and return to fight the wars in France, anyway. Do you want to be left all alone at his dreadful castle? I am sure it is a terrible place with great snake pits and packs of rabid dogs. You will need someone with you.”

Gisella’s smile grew at Sparrow’s description of de Russe’s residence. “Would that I could take you with me, my love,” she said softly. “I would do it for certain.”

Sparrow turned away from her and went to the carved oak wardrobe that held her belongings. Yanking open the door, she pulled out a sturdy capcase of her own and proceeded to yank out some garments hung upon pegs. It was evident she had something in mind as she moved with a purpose.

“I am going with you,” Sparrow said firmly. “You need me. I cannot let you go alone.”

Gisella’s smile faded. “You cannot go with me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are part of the duchess’ entourage. What will she think to find you missing?”

Sparrow shrugged. “I do not care what she thinks,” she said. “I have learned all I can learn from the woman. I have learned what wines to serve, what languages to speak, how to manage a large banquet, and how to impress a suitor. I am going with you now and we will have great adventures together, you and I.”

Gisella wasn’t sure what more to say. She very much wanted Sparrow to come with her, a familiar face amidst the strangers she would be living with. She had no idea where she was going this night or even what the next few days held for her. Everything was so frightening and uncertain, so the lure of a friend to accompany her was great.

“I am not sure that is wise,” she said, one last attempt to discourage Sparrow. “I am facing the unknown. I do not know where we are going and, furthermore, I do not even know if de Russe will allow you to come.”

Sparrow began shoving her possession into the capcase. “He will allow it if you tell him I am your attendant,” she said. “You must be firm with him, Gigi. He is your husband. He must allow you a few things of your own considering that he is uprooting you and spiriting you off into oblivion.”

Gisella thought on that, thinking that perhaps Sparrow was right. De Russe could not deny her a lady, an attendant to assist her. All fine married women had them.
Married women.
It made her stomach lurch to realize she was married. She wondered if she’d ever become accustomed to the idea. Unfortunately, she would have to. And Sparrow was coming with her. She would fight de Russe to the death on it. She needed that comfort, that link to all things kind and gentle. She needed that connection to her happy memories. Making her way over to where Sparrow was shoving garments into her case, she pushed the woman aside and began packing for her.

“Get your traveling clothing on,” she said, rolling up a shift to pack it. “Gannon will return any moment for me and we must be ready.”

Sparrow didn’t argue. Thrilled that she had convinced Gisella to take her along, she began untying her gown and, at the same time, digging in her wardrobe for a heavy woolen traveling dress that had been folded up at the bottom of the cabinet. As her party dress came off, the traveling dress went on.

“I will send my mother word of my whereabouts once we know where we are going,” Sparrow said, happy to be going with her friend and, frankly, more excited for the adventure than Gisella was. “I think she will be glad I am out of Bella Court. She does not care for the duchess much but she wanted me to be properly educated. Now that I am going with you... this will be a new life for us, Gigi. You must not look upon it as a terrible thing. Did you truly want to spend your entire life here at Bella Court with Gloucester chasing after you and performing every night in front of drunken guests? That is no life for you. There are better things out there than that.”

Gisella looked up from the capcase, reflecting on what Sparrow had said. It was true that Gloucester tried to be very secretive about chasing her and Gisella had mostly stopped his onslaught with the threat of telling Lady Gloucester of his advances, but it was an exhausting struggle against a man who did not like to be denied. If her marriage to de Russe had one benefit, it was the fact that Gloucester would more than likely leave her alone now that she was married to his muscle. At least, she hoped so.

“Better things?” she repeated. “Better things like de Russe?”

Sparrow shrugged. “You truly do not know the man,” she said. “Mayhap he is not all bad once you work through the layers of military protocol and knightly pomp.”

Gisella shrugged, looking back to the capcase. “Mayhap,” she said softly. “All I know is that he does not wish to be married as much as I do not wish to be. I am sure he already resents me.”

She paused in her packing when Sparrow turned her back and indicated her need for assistance in fastening the back of the dress. Gisella tightened the laces, securing the garment on Sparrow’s small frame.

“But you
are
married,” Sparrow said softly. “I know this is distasteful for you, but if you are going to be together for the rest of your lives... mayhap you should at least try to be pleasant, Gigi. If you will, mayhap he will, too. And you are such a sweet girl when you want to be.”

Gisella knew that but her mind was so muddled by the events of the evening that it was difficult to think straight. When she finished securing the back of the traveling dress, she wrapped her arms around Sparrow’s shoulders and laid her head against the woman’s back.

“Mayhap,” she murmured. Then, she closed her eyes tightly as if to ward off the doubts that threatened to consume her. “But I am frightened, Sparrow. I admit that I am very frightened. There are such terrible rumors circulating about him and they do frighten me.”

Sparrow patted the hands that were holding her gently. “Did you ask your brother?” she wanted to know. “Surely he would tell you the truth.”

Gisella let her go and moved away, back to her own capcases. “He told me that the rumors are not true,” she said. “I believe him, I suppose, but the gossip is still disconcerting.”

Sparrow rummaged around in the wardrobe for her cloak. She didn’t say anything for a moment, pondering her friend’s fears. “Is that really all it is, Gigi?” she asked softly. “Could it be something more?”

Gisella was fussing with her traveling cloak, shaking it out. “What do you mean?”

Sparrow paused to look at her. “Could Maxim have anything to do with your reluctance to marry de Russe?”

Gisella came to a halt, her intense gaze on her friend. She was rather surprised that the subject had been brought up. It wasn’t something they spoke of anymore. They hadn’t since the knight had lost his life in France two years earlier. It was a rather tender topic.

“Nay,” she finally said. “It has nothing to do with him. It was an infatuation with Maxim and nothing more. Time has shown me that.”

Sparrow shrugged. “I think it was more than an infatuation,” she said knowingly. “But I do believe it is over with. Still, thoughts of him might still be lingering.”

“Not in my mind.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

“That is good,” Sparrow said, shaking out her own cloak. Silence settled for a moment as she fussed with the cloak. “Now, tell me something about your brother.”