Chapter Four #2
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.”
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.