Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (8 page)

“That is
not
what happened,” he said flatly. “Acre was
not
a naval battle. I told my wife this but she does not want to listen. She directs these plays, you know. It is her passion.”

Bastian merely nodded his head, cocking an eyebrow at the ridiculousness of it when someone in the ship stumbled and the entire ship fell down and the actors with it. The crowd laughed loudly at the spectacle as the men with the ship struggled to stand up with the ungainly wooden ship frame around them. Gloucester rolled his eyes.

“Idiots, all of them,” he sighed. “But I will say that my sympathy is with them. My wife does a new play every night, so they have little time to prepare. Speaking of prepared, did you see the angel hanging from the gallery above them?”

He was pointing again, now to the woman who was still suspended over the crowd. She was still singing, a faint tune now, alluring and sweet. She was also still spinning in a slow circle as men reached up, trying to touch her hands which were always slightly out of reach. Bastian watched the woman at a distance.

“Aye,” he finally said. “Le Bec said it was his sister.”

Gloucester nodded. “That is Lady Gisella le Bec, daughter of the mighty Richmond le Bec,” he said. “She is one of my wife’s favorite courtiers. She is cultured, skilled, intelligent, and wildly beautiful. Every man at Bella Court is in love with her to some degree, but she is a very reserved young woman. She shuns them all. I heard rumor there was a knight who had her heart but he was killed in France. You probably know him. In fact, I believe he was a distant cousin of yours. Maxim de Shera was his name.”

Bastian looked at him in surprise. “Indeed, I knew him,” he said. “He was killed during the Siege of Orleans two years ago. He took an arrow meant for me.”

Gloucester nodded. “I heard,” he said grimly. “A fine knight, I was told, but I must say that I would rather have him take the arrow than you.”

Bastian thought back to the knight, a second cousin, who had been a handsome man, skilled, with a French whore who followed him everywhere. He had at least three children with the woman and they were, for all intents and purposes, a married couple. Scratching his neck, Bastian returned his attention to the young woman hanging from the gallery.

“He was quite skilled,” he said, deciding not to make any mention of the camp whore or the children. “I felt his loss deeply. You say that Lady Gisella was in love with him?”

Gloucester nodded, seemingly mesmerized by the twirling lady in the distance. “That was the rumor,” he said. “But I do not know any more than that. In any case, the lady has kept herself quite pure and quite removed from any suitors within my wife’s court. She is well respected, and much liked, and that is why my wife and I decided she needed a husband of some wealth and prestige. She will make you a fine wife, Bastian. Congratulations.”

Bastian knew Gloucester had been leading up to the marital contract as he watched his betrothed hang rather provocatively from a silken cord. He sighed deeply. “Does her father approve of this union?” he asked, knowing it would be of no avail to argue for his right to bachelorhood. “The last thing I want is an angry Richmond le Bec after me.”

Gloucester laughed softly. “He wants to meet you, of course,” he said, “but he seems agreeable. The House of de Russe carries great weight and you, my friend, seem to carry the greatest weight of all. This will be a fine match. Lady Gisella is a lovely and obedient girl. I am sure you will like her once you have come to know her.”

Bastian’s eyes were riveted to the woman as she gently twirled. “And what does she say to all of this?” he asked. “If she was in love with Maxim, then I cannot imagine she would be very agreeable to a husband.”

Gloucester shook his head. “She had no reaction to the news,” he replied. “When I informed her, she did not argue in the least.”

“Then she is not opposed?”

“She was not jumping for joy, either.”

Bastian watched the woman for a moment longer before running a weary hand over his dark head and turning away. Suddenly, he felt quite fatigued, the reality of the situation weighing heavily upon him.
I do not want a wife!
But he knew he had little choice. The decision had been made.

“When is this marriage to take place, then?” he asked, feeling his impatience return. “I have much to do and little time for social graces, Your Grace. I have much to do before returning to France.”

Gloucester nodded. “I know,” he said. “That is why you will marry her before you leave Bella Court. I have a priest on-call for just this purpose. Marry her now and be done with it. Then you can leave her here at Bella Court with my wife whilst you go about your business. Heading to Etonbury Castle, is it?”

Bastian was looking at the man with some shock.
You will marry her before you leave
. “I will be going to West Court Manor to see my father first,” he said, answering the man’s question. But he couldn’t help revisit the suddenness of his impending marriage. “I am to marry her
tonight?
”

Gloucester’s amiable expression tightened into the look of stone that Bastian had seen before. The man didn’t like being questioned. “You are,” he said. “Do you have something to say to that?”

It didn’t matter if Bastian did or not. He knew the man did not expect an answer to that question other than a display of obedience and thanks. “Nay, Your Grace,” Bastian said. “But surely her parents will wish to attend? Surely there must be plans and preparations for such a thing?”

Gloucester shook his head. “Richmond le Bec understands the life of a fighting man better than most,” he said. “He knows your time in England will be brief and there is no time to plan a grand ceremony. I told him after the ceremony, and after you have attended the young king for a time, that I would send you on to Lydford Castle in Devon, which is his seat. My brother granted it to him a long time ago. Le Bec is quite the mining baron now. He makes a fortune from the tin mines on his property, so your wife comes with a substantial dowry. You can go there to meet your new father-in-law and also claim her dowry.”

Bastian really didn’t care about the dowry. He was still reeling over the fact that Gloucester expected him to marry the lady without delay. He hadn’t been prepared for that. As he struggled to keep his opinion about the hasty marriage to himself, Gloucester pointed to the chaos going on in the center of the room.

“Go and retrieve your betrothed, Bastian,” he instructed. “Bring her to my solar so we can see this marriage through. My solar is at the end of the hall to the east and I will meet you there after I find my wife. She will want to witness this.”

With that, he walked away, leaving Bastian standing stunned and somewhat outraged with the turn of events. He wanted very badly to refuse the entire silly betrothal but he knew he had no choice. This was considered a reward. He looked at it as a punishment. Moreover, he could hardly imagine what the young woman thought of the whole thing. Of course she had no reaction when Gloucester informed her of her future. Much like Bastian, she had to do what she was told. Therefore, there was no use in delaying the inevitable.

Fighting down his fury and his frustration, he sought out Gannon and Lucas, who were still on the other side of the hall where he had left them. Retracing his steps back to them, he ignored the stares and whispers of the guests in awe of the mighty Beast, now moving among them. But he also began to suspect their whispers were more than simply admiration. He had a feeling the Maid was being discussed as well. Rumors moved quickly. The courtiers were, if nothing else, a gossipy bunch. He tried to shake off thoughts of their rumor-mongering as he closed the distance between him and his knights.

“That is indeed your sister, Gannon,” he said as he reached them, pointing to the lady hanging by the silken cord. “I have been instructed to retrieve her and take her to Gloucester’s solar where a priest will marry us immediately. Since she does not know me and I do not wish to start out this marriage with a screaming, terrified bride, you will retrieve your sister and bring her to the corridor beyond where you will make the appropriate introductions to me. Is that clear?”

Gannon nodded, trying to hide his surprise. “You are to marry her
tonight
?”

Bastian sighed sharply. “It is not my choice, I assure you,” he said. “Gloucester has made the arrangements. Go and retrieve her and I shall meet you out in the corridor. Lucas, come with me.”

He took de Lara with him, leaving Gannon standing where he had left him, a bit stunned with the quick turn of events. As the noise and music and merriment went on around him, Gannon was in a world of his own, struggling to reconcile himself to his sister’s immediate future.

Certainly, he liked Bastian and had a great deal of respect for the man, but it was natural for him to want to protect his sister from suitors. Only this particular suitor was a reluctant one and Gannon began to worry that his sister would be trapped in a discontented marriage with an apathetic husband. He knew Bastian and knew the man could be hard and cruel at times. Nay, he didn’t like that thought at all.

But he had no choice but to obey orders, just as Bastian was obeying them. Gannon understood that. With a grunt, perhaps one of regret, he made way to his sister, dangling above the combatants, praying she wouldn’t hate him overly for being an instrument leading to a lifetime of unhappiness.

She hadn’t seen her brother in two long years but, suddenly, he was in her midst, reaching up a long arm to grasp her by the wrist. A good yank and he pulled her right down into his arms because the men on the gallery above lost their grip on her silken cord that had been suspending her over the writhing throng of actors. Over her brother’s big shoulder like a sack of grain, Lady Gisella le Bec shrieked as she was hauled off the floor.

“Gannon!” she gasped. “What in the world are you doing?”

Gannon didn’t reply as he tried to navigate his way out of the collection of fake soldiers, all of them slapping at each other with thin, wooden broadswords. One of those swords came too close to his face and Gannon angrily shoved the offending actor away from him, but it was such close quarters that when the actor stumbled back, several men fell back with him.

The guests watching the performance were fairly saturated with fine wine at that point and laughed uproariously as about a quarter of the cast fell down upon each other. Still, Gannon shoved through them, carting his sister unceremoniously away from the action. But Gisella would not be so easily moved. She began squirming, trying to push herself from her brother’s grip.

“Gannon,
stop
,” she commanded. “Put me down this instant!”

Gannon continued to ignore her. He was more concerned with removing her from the room and had little patience for her imperious demands. He was nearly to the entry of the great, fragrant hall, the portal that would take him to the corridor beyond where Bastian was waiting, but he lost his grip on his sister and she would have fallen on her head had he not caught her in time. As he righted her onto her feet, she slapped at his hands.

“Stop,” she barked at him as he tried to steady her. Off balance, she teetered away from him, fearful he was going to grab her again. “Are you mad? Why did you do that?”

Gannon took a good look at his baby sister, whom he had not seen in nearly two years. The last time he had seen her, she had been a little plump but very pretty, a girl growing into womanhood. Now, as he got a good look at her, he could hardly believe the vision before him. She had black hair and their father’s bright blue eyes, and skin of pale pink porcelain. She had also slimmed down, losing her baby fat, but she was still quite full in the bust line and buttocks with a very tiny waist in between. The long tunic and silken hose she was wearing as part of her costume did nothing to dampen that figure.

Feeling very odd with the realization that his fat little sister had grown into an utterly magnificent woman, Gannon eyed her suspiciously.

“Does Father know what you do here?” he fired back. “Hanging from the gallery, dressed inappropriately? It is shameful, Gigi.”

Gisella looked down at what she was wearing. “It is a costume,” she told him. “I am an angel.”

“An angel that can’t wear any more clothing than that?”

Gisella didn’t quite see his issue. “I am completely covered,” she said. “I would not go to a party in this garb, but for a performance, it is quite acceptable.”

Gannon scowled. “Then Father does
not
know what you do here.”

It was a statement and, more importantly, an implied threat. Gisella was a rather stubborn and independent creature, but she was also very sharp and, at times, manipulative. She had learned how to make men do her bidding, subtle skills that the duchess had imparted to her. The Duchess of Gloucester had taught her a great deal since she had joined the woman’s retinue two years before. Since Gisella didn’t want her father to interfere with her life at court, a life she liked very much, she smiled sweetly at her brother and flashed her big dimples.

“I have not seen you in almost two years,” she said. “Is this truly how you wish for our reunion to be? I would much rather hug my brother than fight with him.”

Gannon was caught off-guard by the smile and soft words, which had the desired effect. He began to back down. “I do not wish to fight with you,” he said. “But… that
dress
, Gigi. Truly, Father will have fits if he finds out.”

Gisella went over to her brother and wrapped her hands around his big, armored arm. “It is good to see you, too,” she said, hanging on his arm like she used to do when she was younger. “Lady Gloucester told me you were on your way home. I have missed you. Have you been well?”

Gannon knew she was trying to divert his attention and he let her. Truth be told, her state of dress and her actions in the court of Lady Gloucester weren’t particularly his concern. They were, however, Bastian’s concern now. Gannon almost grinned to think that his headstrong, lovely sister would now be his liege’s problem. Still, his earlier thought of introducing her to a loveless, apathetic husband was still heavy on his mind, a husband who would not be very happy with Gisella’s state of dress. For that reason, Gannon eased up on her because he knew that Bastian would not.

“Well enough,” he finally said, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead. “I wanted to see you as soon as I returned. I am pleased to see that you are healthy and happy here, even if you are hanging half-dressed from the ceiling.”

Gisella giggled and patted his arm soothingly. “It is not as bad as all that,” she said. “Last night, I was Queen Boudica and I had layers of golden clothing. You should have seen it!”

She was speaking of it rather gloriously and Gannon fought off a grin at her enthusiasm. “Is that all you do around here?” he asked. “Pretend to be someone else?”

Gisella shook her head. “Of course not,” she said. “My mornings are full of lessons,” she said. “I have learned so very much from the duchess and her advisors.”

Gannon lifted his dark eyebrows. “Is that so?” he said, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm as he began to lead her towards the corridor outside the room. “Such as?”

Gisella followed along but didn’t ask where they were going. She was mostly focused on his question and the fact that she had successfully diverted him away from her state of dress.

“I have learned to speak Italian, Spanish, and my Latin has improved a great deal,” she told him eagerly. “Lady Gloucester brought in a man from Italy and he taught a few of us how to properly paint. I am becoming quite good at it.”

Gannon was interested. “I see,” he said. “Are you ready to sell your paintings and become rich?”

Gisella giggled. “I am not
that
good, at least not yet,” she told him. “I have, however, sent some paintings home to Papa and Mama. They have more than likely burned them in a great pyre because they were so awful, but Papa has told me that they hang in the great hall. He probably only tells me that to make me happy. Gannon, where are you taking me?”

They were nearly to the door with the darkened corridor beyond and her question hung between them. Gannon paused and looked at her.

“Much as you were trying to distract me from how much our father actually knows of your activities here, I will admit that I was distracting you also with questions on your life at Bella Court,” he said, watching her grin when she realized he was on to her game. “I am here to see you, that is true, but I am also here for another purpose. I have come with your betrothed and I have been asked to make formal introductions.”

A ripple of fear and then rebellion drifted across Gisella’s features. Her dimpled smile quickly vanished. “Now the truth comes forth,” she said, clearly unhappy. “I suspected you came for this purpose, Gannon. It has been to deliver me to the Beast.”

Gannon’s warm expression faded. “I have served him for the past five years,” he said steadily, bracing himself for the turn in mood. “But you already knew that. Surely you are not surprised by my reasons for seeking you out?”

Gisella’s jaw set in that stubborn expression that their mother was known to have. Like mother, like daughter, only there was more behind Gisella’s expression than mere resistance. There was trepidation.

“Aye, I am surprised,” she said, lowering her voice to a hissing sound. “I am surprised that my own brother would deliver me to the man who... who... Good Heavens, Gannon, rumors are flying thick and fast all over London about the Beast and the Maid. How can you deliver me to such a man?”

Gannon visibly cooled. “What rumors?”

Gisella was torn between outrage and fear. “How can you ask me this question?” she demanded. “Everyone knows what he did!”

“Everyone but me. What rumors are you referring to?”

Gisella frowned deeply. “That he and the Maid...,” she began, but struggled for words that weren’t too graphic. “Everyone is saying that the Maid was no longer a maid when she was executed and that it was the Beast who did it. They say he was in love with her. They say she bewitched him!”

Gannon’s jaw ticked as he struggled with his temper. “Ridiculous,” he hissed. “And you would listen to such gossip? Are you truly so shallow?”

Gisella’s cheeks turned shades of pink, ashamed yet defiant. “I would not call me names when
you
are the one who serves such a man.”

“I serve a man of honor and integrity,” Gannon fired back softly. “’Tis a pity you give more credence to silly court gossip than you do to a man’s long-standing reputation. I never thought to see my level-headed sister show such foolishness. Is that what court life has taught you? To believe ugly rumors?”

Gisella was starting to waver but she was still somewhat insolent. “Then you are telling me none of that information was true?”

Gannon frowned. “Would you even believe me if I told you?”

Gisella considered the question. “I do not suppose you would lie to me.”

“Upon my honor, I would not.”

“Then I would believe you.”

He carefully considered his reply, something simple yet truthful that she would understand. He didn’t want to go into all of the details of de Russe’s relationship with the Maid. That would be something for another time and it was something that needed to come from Bastian, as her husband. At the moment, he could see he would have to do damage control on the depth of the rumors circulating about de Russe.

“De Russe was her jailor,” he said. “Bedford put him in charge of her because she seemed to outsmart everyone else. De Russe showed her respect and compassion, as he would any prisoner of standing, but that is where it ended. Those who spread gossip and lies about his relationship with the woman have no idea what they speak of. They are worthless pigs who should have their tongues cut out.”

Gisella didn’t say anything right away. She continued to stare up at him, mulling over his statement. It was clear that she was still uncertain about the entire situation but her brother’s strong words were sinking in, giving her cause for reflection. He had promised her the truth so she had no choice but to believe him because she said she would. By her expression alone, she seemed to be easing her stance somewhat. Still, there was suspicion in the bright blue eyes. Gannon could see that clearly.

Before Gisella could respond, a very drunken guest suddenly appeared, pushing between Gisella and Gannon and grabbing hold of Gisella’s arms. A fat man of epic horizontal proportions was in their midst, obviously thrilled to see Gisella. He lurched forward and, with his shift in weight, nearly sent her to the ground.

“My beautiful angel,” he slurred. “I thought you belonged to me and me alone, yet I see you run off with this… this
man
!”

He threw an accusing finger in Gannon’s direction. Quick as a flash, Gannon reached out and grabbed the man around the neck, yanking him off of his sister. He was about to throttle the fool when a big body moved up beside him and enormous hands reached out, separating him from the drunkard in very fine clothing. Gannon looked up to see Bastian pulling the man away from him, away from Gisella, and turning him back towards the hall. As Gisella and Gannon looked on with some curiosity, Bastian faced the drunken man.

“My lord Guildford,” he said calmly. “Your wife will be looking for you, I am sure. Mayhap it would be best if you find her now.”

The drunken man looked up at Bastian, craning his head back and staggering backwards when he lost his balance. He blinked as if realizing the pure size of the man staring him down but, more than that, he’d heard talk in the hall about this man.
Beast,
they had said. He frowned.

“By what right do you have to speak to me that way?” he demanded, his speech slurred. “You
touched
me!”

Bastian was very good at many things but he was particularly good in dealing with spoiled men with a sense of entitlement. He had been watching Gannon and Gisella from the shadows of the corridor, hearing the drone of conversation but not the actual words, and had come to their aid when Guildford had launched an offensive against them. He faced down the fat drunkard, his eyes narrowed.

“For your bold actions against my betrothed, you are lucky that it was merely a touch,” he said, lowering his voice. “You know who I am and you know what I am capable of. I suggest you find your wife before you receive first-hand knowledge of my violent talents.”

That was enough for Guildford. He blinked again, rapidly, before stumbling backwards, sideways, and then threw his weight into the direction he wanted to go. Without a hind-glance to Gisella, he staggered back into the bustling hall as Bastian watched him go. When he was sure the man wasn’t going to turn around and come back at him, he turned his attention to Gannon and Gisella.