Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (10 page)

“The matter was settled, Bastian. Where is the lady?”

In a solar that had pounded silver suns on the ceiling to display the astonishing wealth of Gloucester, Bastian was gazing into the face of a very irritated duke. Worse still, Lady Gloucester, Eleanor, was standing next to her husband and extremely drunk. Having been pulled out of her riotous party, she was upset with her husband for interrupting her flirtatious exchange with a young lord who had come to her party covered in some type of golden paint. He had worn a fur cloak, intimating he was wearing nothing underneath, and Eleanor was frustrated that she had not yet caught a glimpse of his naked flesh.

But all of that was pushed out of her mind when she laid eyes upon Bastian. Tall, square-jawed and blue-eyed, she hadn’t seen him in several years so her sighting of him had her cooing in delight. As he husband raged about having his orders disobeyed, Eleanor went straight to Bastian and wrapped her small hands around his armored elbow.

“Beast,” she purred. “How happy I am to see you.”

Bastian’s focus was on Gloucester but he didn’t want to be rude to the wife. Still, as the woman clung to him, the words Gisella spoke began to fill his mind again.
Lady Gloucester keeps a very watchful eye on me
. He was coming to think that Lady Gloucester could accomplish far more for him than he could alone against Gloucester’s marital directive and his attention swerved to her.
Salvation!

“My lady,” he replied. “Your palace is everything I had heard it to be. Your husband tells me that you plan these nightly plays.”

Eleanor nodded her head, swept up in all of Bastian’s sensual male beauty. “I do,” she slurred. “Did you enjoy the play? King Richard, you know. What a glorious subject.”

Bastian nodded. “It was quite… spectacular,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as if he was lying about her gaudy and ridiculous play. “I noticed Lady Gisella had a pivotal role as the angel.”

Eleanor was thrilled with the conversation from a man who wasn’t much for conversation in general. She’d been acquainted with him for years and he’d barely spoken five words to her in all that time.

“Gisella is the most beautiful woman in my court so it is right that she should play the angel,” she replied. “But what is this I hear? You do not wish to marry her? Why on earth not?”

Bastian knew Gloucester was listening. “She is quite lovely, that is true, but it would not be fair for such a vital and lovely woman to be married to someone who would spend so much time away from her,” he said, trying to play on the woman’s sympathies. “She would be so much happier here, I would think. Mayhap you should find her a husband who will actually pay attention to her because I surely could not. She would be a lonely wife for the rest of her life whilst I conducted battle in France for the king.”

Eleanor patted his big arm. “You need her, Bastian,” she said. “You have had so little joy in life and she would bring you great joy. She is sweet and educated, and you would be proud to have her on your arm. Take her to France with you, then. She is a vital woman and you must allow her to participate in your life.”

That wasn’t the help Bastian was looking for. If anything, she was strengthening Gloucester’s case and Bastian hastened to convince her otherwise.

“My lady, I would like nothing better than to make her happy, but I fear that would be impossible,” he insisted. “When I should be thinking on furthering the king’s cause, I would be worried about my wife. I cannot have such a distraction if I am to further the king’s claim in France.”

He thought himself rather clever for putting such a spin on the situation, but Lady Gloucester was more stubborn than her husband. She would have none of his foolishness, no matter how logical he tried to sound.

“Nonsense,” she said, weaving about drunkenly as she shook her head. “You will marry Gisella and you will take her with you when you go to London where young Henry is at this time. You will recall that he mostly spends his time at Cirencester but he happens to be in London at this moment. He seems to prefer it as of late. Gisella will make a fine companion for the king. She is well educated, excels in conversation, and she can sing and play games. She can entertain the king as you see to his safety. It is a perfect arrangement, truly.”

Bastian was sliding down the slippery slope of rebellion, now with no traction as Lady Gloucester made it seem as if his betrothed would fit perfectly into his new directives as the King’s Protector. He had no grounds to refuse or argue now. But he couldn’t give up, not yet. He had to fight until the bitter end.

“But I do not plan to go to London immediately,” he said. “I was planning on going to West Court to visit my father and then on to Etonbury Castle to see to the settling of my men and to survey my new lands. Only afterwards was I planning on going to see young Henry.”

Lady Gloucester shook her head. “Although you may visit your father, young Henry is the priority,” she said firmly. “You must attend him as soon as possible. You can survey your new properties another time, Bastian. You are needed with Henry, now more than ever. Is that not correct, my dear?”

She was speaking to the duke, who had essentially lost control of the conversation in the wake of his pushy wife. He nodded slowly, his gaze on Bastian.

“It is,” he said. “Once you arrive in London, you are instructed to take Henry back to the royal residence in Cirencester by Christmas. If it pleases you, you may make a small detour on your way to Somerset and visit Etonbury. But you may not stay. Henry must be taken back home.”

Bastian knew he had no choice now. Both Eleanor and Humphrey were for this union and there was no dissuading either of them. Furthermore, they had directives for him that did not include visiting Etonbury Castle any time soon. Bastian struggled not to let his disappointment and frustration show.

“Aye, my lord,” he said, unhappiness in his tone.

“You and Gisella will remain with him.”

“Aye, we will.”

Lady Gloucester smiled up at him, patting his stubbled cheek. “You will be happy with her, I promise,” she said. “Gisella is a good girl and eager to please.”

“She is also the best singer at Bella Court,” Gloucester put in, watching Bastian’s displeased expression. “Have the girl sing for you ever night. That should ease your reluctance in time. Not many wives have such talent.”

Bastian simply nodded, knowing it would be futile to say any more. He was grinding his jaw, a bad habit he had, and he clenched his teeth so tightly that he ended up biting his lip. As he stood there and struggled to reconcile himself to his future, now set in stone, Lady Gloucester leaned into him, laboring to remain on her feet as the alcohol threatened to pull her to the floor.

“Tell me, Bastian,” she murmured. “Is it true what happened in France? What we have heard about you?”

Bastian wasn’t in any mood to discuss gossip. “What did you hear?”

Lady Gloucester lifted her dark eyebrows. “About the Maid,” she said. “Is it true you were in love with her? Is that why you do not wish to marry Gisella? Is your heart broken, darling?”

Bastian couldn’t help it. He looked at the woman as if she were mad. “I am not sure what you have heard, but let me assure you that none of that is true,” he said. “I was her jailor and nothing more.”

Lady Gloucester was trying to be serious in her questioning, made difficult by the wine she had consumed. “But we heard you were her shadow,” she said. “We heard that she had bewitched you. You are forgiven, you know. She was an instrument of the Devil and you are only a man, after all. But I do understand your reluctance to marry Gisella if your heart belongs to another.”

Bastian was struggling with his temper now. “My heart belongs to no one,” he said, his jaw ticking. “I would appreciate it, Lady Gloucester, if you would put any rumors you hear to rest on my behalf. I assure you that I was not in love with the Maid, nor she with me. I was her jailor and it was my duty to see she was fairly treated. If anyone assumed it was more than that, then they are fools.”

It was an insult directed to anyone who was spreading such rumors. Gloucester knew it even if his drunken wife did not. The duke, over his initial anger with Bastian when the man had turned up in the solar without his bride, cleared his throat softly.

“Where is Lady Gisella, Bastian?” he asked. “Mayhap you should go retrieve her so we may see this marriage through.”

With a heavy sigh, one of resignation and reluctance, Bastian peeled Lady Gloucester’s fingers off of his arm and turned for the door that led from the lavish solar. Beyond was the tiled corridor where de Lara was waiting for him. Moving like an exhausted man, exhausted with the stress of travel and the events of the unsettling evening, Bastian went to the doorway and crooked a finger at de Lara, a few feet away. As de Lara came near, Bastian spoke.

“Go and find Lady Gisella and Gannon,” he directed. “Bring them here now.”

Lucas nodded, eyeing his clearly unhappy cousin. “You are still to marry her?” he asked quietly.

Bastian nodded, realizing he was struggling against a full-blown temper tantrum. “Aye,” he grumbled. “Hurry and bring them here. I want to get this over with. I have more important duties to attend to.”

Lucas nodded once more and turned on his heel, heading down the lavish corridor they had traveled a few minutes earlier. At the end of the corridor was the great hall where the duchess’ decadent banquet was taking place. The closer he came, the more he realized that it was not laughter he heard but screaming, and he was startled as a white horse in yards of silver fabric bolted through the door and ran straight for him. Lucas was fast and able to corral the horse, a beautiful animal, but he could still hear screams from the banquet hall and drunken, disheveled people began spilling through the door.

Taking the horse to the front entry of the palace, he handed it off to a pair of startled servants before turning his attention back to the banquet hall, rather curious as to what he would find. As he appeared in the large doorway that led into the hall, all he could see was shambles and horse shite all over the golden, tiled floor, and somewhere in the center of the room he could clearly see the big form of Gannon.

And he had Gisella in his arms.

She hadn’t actually been knocked unconscious but she was rather dazed, the wind having been knocked out of her when she fell and then aggravated when fat King Richard fell atop her. The next thing Gisella realized, Gannon was pulling her up off the floor.

“Gigi,” he gasped, his voice full of concern. “Are you injured?”

Gisella was hearing bells and the world rocked unsteadily. “I… I believe so,” she said, rubbing the bump on her head where it had hit the floor. Her careful hairstyle was unraveling. “What happened?”

Gannon was very careful with her as she tried to sit up. “The horse bolted,” he said, not wanting to admit he might have had something to do with it. “Can you walk?”

Gisella blinked, trying to stop the heaving room. “I think so,” she said. “Where is the horse?”

Gannon looked around the room. “I do not see it,” he said, reaching down to collect his sister in his arms. “Let me get you out of here.”

Gisella grasped him around the neck as he picked her up. “But that is
my
horse,” she said. “Where is he? I want my horse!”

Gannon wasn’t too concerned about the horse. He was more concerned with removing his sister from the mayhem. “I will find him,” he assured her, remembering the pristine white stallion. It was a magnificent beast. “Where did you get a horse like that?”

Gisella was looking around the room, too, trying to spy her animal. “He was a gift,” she said. Then, she noticed that there was horse dung on her arms and hands. “I have horse droppings all over me!”

Gannon was trying not to slip on the floor as he made his way through the performers who were milling about, trying to help their injured comrades. “It never used to bother you when you were a child,” he teased her. “In fact, I remember quite clearly a young girl in the middle of the bailey of our family home, building castles with mud and horse dung.”

Gisella scowled at him, distracted from rubbing the bump on her head. “I was five years old and didn’t know any better,” she said. “Are you going to bring that up?”

Gannon grinned. “You were five years old, building great castles in the bailey of Lydford Castle with horse shite because it was steamy and warm,” he said. “Father let you do it and Mother had fits. Do you remember that part of it? Mother was so angry that she made Father bathe you even though he had business with a royal messenger from London. She made the messenger wait.”