Chapter Eight #3
Bastian’s confusion cleared up rapidly as he understood what she had meant.
She was more intuitive than he gave her credit for, and she was also far braver than he was in speaking of feelings.
He had felt giddy at her statement but didn’t want her to know.
It confused and frightened him to feel that way.
But gazing into her blue eyes, he wasn’t so confused or frightened anymore.
He rather liked the giddy feelings she provoked.
“You do not need to apologize,” he told her quietly. “You simply stated what I was thinking, too.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly?”
He nodded, enjoying the look of surprise on her face. “Truly.”
That left Gisella rather speechless. Was it possible that the warm feelings she had experienced around him hadn’t been her imagination, after all? She could hardly believe it. His response gave her hope.
“Then… then may I say something more?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied.
She gathered her thoughts and words carefully. “I… I know we had a very rough beginning,” she said. “I suppose I was to blame for most of it. The truth is that I do not wish for our marriage to be contentious. I wish for it to be pleasant just as it is now. I will do my best to ensure that it is.”
She was talking about feelings more than he’d ever had experience with and the giddiness he was feeling deepened.
But he didn’t run away, as was his instinct.
He did the only thing he could think of.
He lifted her hand to his lips for a gentle kiss.
That was the best he could do at the moment in discussing what he was feeling and what his hopes and dreams were.
Expressing those didn’t come easily. Perhaps someday he could with Gisella, but at the moment, he was both giddy and uncertain.
It was best not to say anything for fear of making a fool of himself.
Kissing her hand again and watching her cheeks flush red, he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and took her into the hall.
Braxton stood up the moment he spied Bastian and Gisella enter the room.
He had been waiting for his son’s wife to make an appearance for quite some time, or at least it seemed like a long time.
He was eager to see her before Bastian took her away and he would probably not see her again until his first grandchild was born.
“Ah!” he called happily, waving them over to the table. “Lady de Russe, it is lovely to see you once more. I hear my son will be spiriting you off to London now.”
Bastian helped Gisella sit in the chair across the table from his father. “So I have been told,” Gisella replied, looking at the plethora of food spread out all over the table. “Although this time of year in London, the humidity from the river will be terrible. I am not fond of London in August.”
Braxton passed the plate of chunks of warm, cream-colored bread to Gisella, who took a piece. “I have told Bas to take you to Braidwood, our family townhome,” he said. “It is not far from the Tower and I think you would like it better than the halls of that terrible place.”
Gisella looked up from buttering her bread. “The Tower?” she clarified. “Truthfully, I have not spent any length of time there. Lady Gloucester does not like it.”
Braxton grunted. “Wise woman,” he said, slathering butter over his own piece of bread. He glanced at his son, quickly, and then his new daughter-in-law before speaking. “It is not a difficult ride to London. I have been thinking of going with you.”
Bastian looked at his father in surprise. “You have?”
Braxton nodded. “I should go, truly,” he said. “Martin is at Braidwood, after all, and you’ve never gotten on well with your cousin. If you two start fighting, who is going to stop it?”
Bastian gave him a rather intolerant expression. “I will not fight Martin,” he said. “As long as he gives me another horse comparable to the one he stole, there is no reason to fight.”
From down the table, Martin’s mother, Beatrice, spoke up.
“Bas, Martin did not steal that horse and you know it,” she scolded.
“Good Heavens, you boys were only five years old. He did not steal your toy horse. If you want him to give you another one, then I will get you one simply to settle the score. Would that make you happy?”
Gisella was listening seriously to the conversation until Lady Beatrice brought up the fact that the horse Bastian was speaking of had been a toy. Then, she broke into a grin, looking at her husband as if the man were mad.
“A toy horse?” she repeated. “You hold a grudge over a toy horse?”
Bastian was frowning. “Say what you like,” he said. “It was mine and he took it. I shall never forgive him.”
Something in his expression told Gisella that he wasn’t entirely serious and she started laughing.
When he glared at her, without force, she pretended to bite her lip.
He broke into a smile and she started laughing again as Braxton took a big bite of his bread, smearing butter all over his right cheek.
“Aye, I believe I shall go to London with you both,” he said, lifting a butter-smeared knife at Bastian as the man grinned at his wife. “You may need me.”
Bastian tore his gaze away from his wife and looked at his father. “Need you for what?” he wanted to know. “You can hardly hold a sword anymore. Moreover, Gisella and I will be with the king and you will be left alone at Braidwood.”
Braxton didn’t like to be denied although he didn’t want to say what he was really thinking – the threat against him and against Bastian.
For some reason, he didn’t want to let his son out of his sight.
He felt very strongly that he needed to be with him, especially in light of the Maid’s relic that Bastian had with him.
That was an entirely new reason to stick close to him.
Strange forces were at work around Bastian and Braxton could not let the man face it alone.
His knightly intuition told him to stay close.
“I am good for other things, you know,” he said, miffed. “And I have not seen you in almost two years, Bas. Are you truly going to deny a father the right to be with his son?”
Bastian patted the old man’s shoulder. “Very well,” he said. “But at least wait until we get settled. I will send for you.”
Braxton’s face fell. “I cannot go with you now?”
Bastian shook his head. “Not now,” he said. “As I said, there will be enough change and upheaval between the two of us. Let us settle in before we add you to the mix.”
Braxton frowned and looked away. “I would not be that much trouble.”
Bastian cocked an eyebrow at his father. “I did not say you would,” he said. “I only asked that you wait for us to settle in. Do not start weeping like a woman because I asked you to wait. I cannot stand it when you weep.”
“Bah!” Braxton spat. “I do not weep and you know it. Now you are making me appear weak and foolish in front of your new wife!”
Before Bastian could speak, Gisella interrupted.
“Sir Braxton, I certainly do not view you as weak and foolish,” she assured him.
“We are happy to have you accompany us to London. Mayhap you will tell me more stories of Bastian when he was young. I’m particularly interested in the story about the stolen horse. ”
Bastian, mouth full, made a face into his trencher. “He did steal it.”
Braxton, his gaze on his son, shook his head in resignation. There was no use in replying because Bastian truly believed he had been wronged, so the old man returned to his bread and butter, winking at Gisella across the table when she smiled at him.
“He did not,” he whispered to her.
As Gisella giggled, Braxton smiled in return, chewing his bread. Bastian heard his father but did nothing more than cock an eyebrow. Gisella watched the two of them a moment, their humorous rapport, before speaking.
“I think I can solve Bastian’s issue and restore his lost horse,” she ventured, popping a piece of warm bread in her mouth as she looked at her husband. “I believe I can make you feel much better, Bastian.”
His brow furrowed. “How?”
Gisella tilted her head thoughtfully. “You feel wronged because your cousin allegedly stole a toy horse from you, correct?”
Bastian merely lifted a reproving eyebrow. “It is not an ‘alleged’ crime.”
Gisella could see that he wasn’t entirely serious and she fought off a smile. “It would make you feel much better to receive a real horse as a replacement, would it not?”
Bastian wasn’t following her train of thought. “What do you mean?”
Gisella’s smile broke through. “The white stallion that I brought with me from Bella Court,” she said.
“He was a gift to me but to be perfectly honest, he scares me. He is very strong and quite excitable. I would like to give him to you so you do not feel so badly about having a toy horse stolen. A real horse is much better.”
Bastian couldn’t help it, his eyes widened. “That is quite generous, Lady de Russe,” he said. “That horse is magnificent.”
“He is yours now.”
Bastian was both deeply surprised and very pleased. “I am grateful,” he said. “But you truly do not have to do that. You were not the one that stole my toy horse.”
She laughed softly. “I know,” she said. “But mayhap my gift will make you feel a bit better about what you lost.”
He nodded pleasantly, his eyes glittering at her. “Indeed,” he said, gratitude in his expression. “I cannot thank you enough. But who gave you the horse? Should you not make sure they are agreeable to let you give it to me?”
Gisella’s smile faded. “Nay,” she said. “Gloucester gave me the horse although I did not want to accept it. He insisted. Now, he will see you ride the horse and understand that I truly meant what I said – I did not want it.”
Bastian sensed something behind that statement, something slightly sinister, but he didn’t pursue it.
He made a mental note, however, to ask her later.
He seemed to remember someone telling him that Gloucester had been chasing Gisella.
Perhaps there was truth to that. By the look on her face, he could see that there was.
He would discuss it with her later but, for now, he was quite happy to take Gloucester’s gift off her hands.
“Then I will take the horse and gladly,” he said. “You have my thanks.”
“You are quite welcome.”
Braxton, who had been sitting silently throughout the exchange, watched the expressions between Bastian and Gisella.
There was something warm there, something almost tangible, like an invisible river that was somehow flowing between them.
Upon the river was interest and attraction.
One would have been blind not to have seen it and Braxton was glad for it.
Much would be waiting for them in London and the sooner they established the strength of bond between them, the better.
It seemed that Bastian actually had a chance for happiness with his new wife and Braxton hoped that happiness would have a fighting chance against Gloucester and Bedford and all that was kingly and political.
London, he suspected, was going to be quite an adventure for them all.