Beauty's Curse

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

This book couldn't have been written without Greg, Sheryl, Paul, Olga and the tiki bar. As usual, I need to thank Brighton and Destini for raising themselves while I write, and even bringing me Diet Cokes. My Babes! Thanks for helping me sort out plots, and Kerry, who listened when I whined. Trena, thanks for the last minute reads. It's been a tough two years, and I appreciate everyone for their generous and loving support. I am blessed!

Mushy stuff aside, I'd be nowhere without the internet. Research for this project has been immense.
Wikipedia.com
has been a great resource, as has
catholicsaints.com
,
brittania.com
, berkshirehistory com and many others – thank you! Research books – King John, by W.L. Warren, Life in a Medieval Castle, Life in a Medieval Village, both by Frances and Joseph Gies. The Medieval Castle, by Philip Warner. The Medieval Warrior by Paul LaCroix, and Walter Clifford Meller.

This is a work of FICTION, although I've tried to stay true to historical facts. All mistakes are my own.

Montehue Manor
February 1193

“It's beautiful,” Galiana Montehue whispered as she ran out into the winter-dead flower garden. The English countryside was blanketed in pure white; a new beginning. She stretched out her arms, twirling like a sprite, as the soft flakes of snow melted on her nose and cheeks. Air plumed from her mouth as she laughed aloud, spinning round until she was so dizzy she fell back into a drift of snow as soft as her feather mattress.

“Bless Mother, Father, Gram, and Ela. God speed them on their journey,” she said, sticking her tongue out to catch the big, fluffy flakes as they fell from the gray sky. “Celestia and Nicholas, too, and the babe.” For the tiniest of seconds, she regretted not being at her sister's side for the birth of her first child.

She'd sent a basket of Tia's favorite lotions and some cream for the baby's skin, but Galiana hadn't wanted to go. Nay, she'd bartered for the chance to stay home and be the lady of the manor. Laughing again at the absurdity of it, her parents had not only agreed to let her take on the chore of running the household, but they'd added her twin brothers to her list of responsibilities. Of course, they'd also left eight seasoned Montehue knights, Bailiff Morton, and the live-in manor staff. They trusted her and weren't treating her like she was just a pretty face. And it had snowed the first snow of the year on the first morn after they were gone.

She sighed happily, thinking this to be an auspicious start to the day, as if the angels had come overnight and frosted the bare tree branches with crystals. She should paint it, she thought, sketching the scene in her mind.

Just last week she'd lit twenty scented candles to Saint Jude, who she'd adopted as her own since he championed hopeless causes, so that the path to a grand adventure would be made clear to her. “This has to mean something,” she told the clouds above her.

“Talking to yourself again, Gali?” The voice that asked held a slight squeak that made her smile. A masculine voice, on the verge of becoming a man's.

“Ye've gone insane. One too many sliced cucumbers to the eye,” a similar voice teased.

“Your gown is soaked. Come in before you catch your death,” Ned, the older twin by five minutes, instructed as if his sister had truly gone around the bend.

“Have you been in the cherry wine?”

“With Gram and Ela both away, if you sicken, it will be old Dame Bertha to see to your compresses. She makes them too hot, and they burn. Come in. The hall is warm, and cook's made porridge with honey.” Ed's tone was much more coaxing, and Galiana knew without looking at them that they would be standing, mirrored opposites, arms crossed in front of their chests like the men they would grow to be.

Just twelve, they were not men yet, although they would be soon enough, and Galiana felt the sudden urge to stop time. Squires for their brother-in-law, Nicholas Le Blanc, the twins had come home for the Christmas season. They had been underfoot for all of five days before Mother had one of her intuitions and the family was off across England to Celestia's aid. Poor Celestia.

“Were you two scoundrels following me?” Tilting her chin to the right, she glanced down her nose at them, even though she was lying back and they were standing over her. She'd practiced that look enough to know it had power.

Ned, a lock of blond hair falling over one blue eye, dropped his crossed arms to his sides. “Scoundrels? If Nicholas would permit us, we'd be off on crusade.”

Ed, not to be outdone, lifted one arm high in the air. “For King Richard!”

Realizing her morning of joyous fantasy was shattered, Galiana struggled to her feet. Ned pulled her up and immediately dropped her hand. “Ye're soaked through,” he said with a chastising shake of his head. “And chilled.”

“What would Mam say?” Ed raised one blond brow.

Until now, she hadn't noticed the cold. “When did you two monkeys become so bossy? Hmm? Mother is not here, I will not sicken, and you could not go on crusade if Nicholas made you both knights tomorrow. King Richard has been captured by the German Emperor, and he's being held for ransom.”

Ned's brows drew together, and he asked, “For certes? He is not dead, then? Father never believed it.”

Galiana nodded. “Father Jonah just told me last night. If you two wouldn't have run off after evening prayers, you would have heard the whole story.” Not that she could blame them. The older Father Jonah got, the less he seemed to remember. A simple sermon could take a very long time.

“We had to work on our shields,” Ned said.

“I knew that sodding minstrel was lying!”

“Edward,” Galiana gasped. “That is no way to speak.” She turned, hiding an indulgent smile. “Even if it is true.” The minstrel Eiredale was as infamous for his stories as he was for his singing. Desperate for entertainment, Galiana and her family ignored the fact that the bard was firmly in Prince John's pocket—and that he couldn't sing.

“My apologies,” Ed said with a mock courtly bow.

“Is no one serious in this family?” Ned complained.

“At least you, Galiana, should understand the importance of this situation. If King Richard is being held for ransom, then surely the Old Queen Eleanor will pay it, and our king will finally come home. 'Tis better than going on crusade. We could be squires at court.”

“Are ye calling me an imbecile? I knew that was important,” Ed glared at his twin, with mutiny in his green eyes.

“I never called ye stupid, but if you feel that way …” Ned curled his fists.

“No fighting. Just because I'm in charge doesn't mean that you can get into trouble.” Galiana held out her hand, absently watching a snowflake melt on her palm. “Has Bailiff Morton given you your chores yet today? Father said the stables will need cleaning and you both are to help. He doesn't want you getting lazy,” she said with a straight face. The truth was, the twins had more energy than a litter of puppies, and shoveling out stalls was a good way to keep them from burning down the barn. Again.

“I still think Father should have left us in charge,” Ned lifted his chin, as Galiana had done. “Look at you, out worrying in the snow. You are just a woman.”

“Just a woman?” Galiana glared at her brother. “Have you been away so long that you don't remember I can thrash you?” She took a step so she was eye to eye with him. Another inch, and he'd be taller than she, Galiana realized with a pang.

“I was a lad. Besides, I let you win,” Ned grinned fiendishly.

“Oh?” Galiana's first reaction was dismay that her brothers could be so shallow. Just a woman? They'd spent the past year with Celestia and Nicholas, so where had they gotten such an idea? Her second was to argue some sense into Ned's stubborn head. “You know perfectly well that in this family, women are not chattel. We are strong, warriors even.”

Ed snickered, and it dawned on Galiana that she'd been teased. She bit her tongue instead of lashing them with it, since she'd been such an easy target. Brats.

“You two have quite a talent for knowing when I'm brooding.” Most noble families sent their children away to be raised in other households; the girls went to the house of their betrothed, if it was possible. Her parents never saw the need, since their daughters could choose husbands for themselves. After Baron Peregrine's betrayal, her father had petitioned King Richard, now his direct liege, and received a written dispensation honoring the Montehue's unusual rights.

Ned put his arm around her shoulders. “You worry too much, and usually about marriage.”

“You should let me and Ned pick your husband.” Ed exchanged a devilish look with his twin.

“No,” Galiana laughed. “I can imagine who you would choose, and it makes me shudder.”

She'd been raised on stories of love, seeing her parents' happy marriage and even Celestia had found wedded bliss. Was it any wonder there was a foolish part of her that wanted to feel love too? But she remained permanently disappointed.

For reasons she didn't understand, most men couldn't see past her beauty. She could endure only so many bad poems regarding her bright eyes and porcelain skin without vomiting.

Chivalry and courtly ideas were turning real men into girls.

“You're a grown woman now,” Ed pointed out, getting to the very heart of Galiana's dilemma.

“You'll have to choose eventually. Or let Father; he would find you someone rich.” Ned rubbed his hands together.

With her family's new status, they required more knights. And more knights cost more money, and taxes kept getting higher. By marrying a wealthy man, she could be a help to her family instead of a burden. Her only asset was her face. She'd been trained to be the ultimate lady, and all “ladies” were good for was making a prosperous marriage. It was time. She knew it, as did her parents, though they were too loving to toss her out to the village streets.