Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (19 page)

Bastian didn’t say a word but, abruptly, Gisella was being lifted off the ground and gently planted on the dressing table stool. Bastian had picked her up as easily as one would have lifted a child. Silently, he bent down and put the last of his possessions into his saddlebags. Gisella watched him apprehensively.

“I am sorry,” she said. “It was not my intention to handle your things but I could not very well leave them on the floor. I meant no harm.”

Bastian swung the bags back onto the bed. “I know,” he said, meeting her eye. “I am not offended. But, at this moment, everyone is waiting for you in the great hall to see you once more before we leave for London. I went to find my aunts to ask them about fabric and found everyone in the hall, so I have been sent to fetch you.”

Gisella pulled on her other slipper and the maid fled the room, leaving her alone with Bastian. Her thoughts were lingering on his quick departure a few minutes prior and she watched him closely for any signs of displeasure in his manner. Displeasure still that he was married to a woman who expected emotion from him right away, or soft feelings at the very least. But she saw nothing in his expression that would indicate discontentment and she stood up from the stool just as Moggy the cat jumped back on the bed and began sniffing around. Bastian hissed at the cat to scare it, a plan that worked - Moggy jumped off the bed and ran off as Bastian turned to Gisella.

“If you are ready, we shall have a final meal with my family,” he said, holding out an elbow which she gladly took. “Be aware that they are already asking me when they can expect grandsons and grand nephews, so be prepared with an answer.”

Gisella tried not to flush brightly as he led her from the chamber. “I... I am not entirely sure one can plan exactly for that event,” she said. “I would presume it will happen when God deems it so.”

Bastian eyed her lowered head as they began to descend the staircase. “You do want children, don’t you?”

Gisella nodded quickly. “Of course.”

“How many?”

“As many as God will give us.”

“What if He gives us twenty?”

She looked up at him, then. “Then God and I are going to have a serious discussion about what is, and what is not, a reasonable number of children.”

Bastian fought off a grin. “What if
I
want to have twenty children?”

Gisella snorted. “Then it shall not be with me,” she said. “Find yourself another foolish woman who will bear children for you in great numbers.”

“You will not do it?”

“I will not be a dog giving birth to litters of puppies.”

He laughed as they came to the bottom of the steps. “We have plenty of time to decide on a number,” he said. “Meanwhile, let us bid my family farewell and commence with our journey into London.”

He seemed pleasant and attentive again, just as he had been before she made mention of being separated just as they were coming to know one another. Since Gisella was one of those people who generally felt the need to always make sure the situation around her was pleasant and without tension, she thought perhaps that it might be wise to assure Bastian her comment from earlier wasn’t meant to be leading. She hadn’t expected him to mirror her feelings but she certainly hadn’t meant to send him running off. Quietly, she cleared her throat and came to a halt at the threshold to the great hall. She took her arm off his elbow and faced him.

“May I speak freely, my lord?” she said.

Bastian cocked a dark eyebrow at her. “You may, but first I must tell you something.”

“What is that?”

“You will address me as Bastian in private,” he told her. “Addressing me so formally in conversation like this seems awkward at best.”

Gisella smiled faintly. “Very well,” she said. “I would be honored if you would call me Gisella. My friends and family call me Gigi, if you prefer.”

“I will prefer whatever you would like for me to call you.”

Her grin broadened. “Either name will suffice.”

His blue eyes glittered at her. “As you say, Gigi,” he said. “Now, what did you wish to say?”

The smile faded from Gisella’s lips as she thought on how to phrase her statement. She didn’t want to send him off running again but she felt the need to clear the air between them. Again, she cleared her throat softly.

“A few minutes ago whilst we were in the bedchamber, I fear I may have upset you,” she said hesitantly. “Please know that I did not mean to imply that there was something more between us than a marital contract, for that was clearly not what I meant. I simply meant that we appear to be getting along much better since our rather difficult beginning and I am pleased that we can be pleasant with one another. That is truly all that I meant.”

Bastian was looking at her with confusion at her somewhat rambling statement. “Forgive me for asking, but what are you talking about?”

Gisella could feel her cheeks growing warm, something that inevitably happened when she was embarrassed or nervous. “I said it would be a sad thing to be separated now that we are coming to know one another,” she said. “You left the chamber so quickly... I thought I might have offended you and I would like to apologize.”

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 think 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?”