Beauty's Curse (18 page)

“Is there something in this book that'll make everybody feel better?” Jamie patted at the pages.

Gali jumped to her feet. “Aye, there must be … something to soothe an aching belly.” She should have thought of that instead of pitying herself.

“We can help ye, lass, but then”—Jamie exchanged a look with Rourke—“I'm going after that boy and the priest. They can't have got too far.”

“I'll go with you,” Rourke said firmly.

She'd told Ed to go to Celestia, and then she'd made a fuss over being forced to marry Rourke. Ned had been terribly upset. This was her fault again.

It was time to start acting responsible and stop lamenting what might have been. Galiana lifted her chin, refusing to consider that she'd soon be in the dungeon alone. It was different with Rourke here; even sick, he kept the ghosts at bay.

“Please, go now. If the snow is still falling, it could cover their tracks. What if they're lost? Hurry! I can handle everything here.”

Jamie gave her a look of approval.

Rourke said, “We'll find them and bring them back—alive, Galiana.”

If anybody could do it, it would be him, she thought as she watched them walk away. She wanted her brothers back at the manor fussing and kicking, and Father Jonah, too. But it would be better for everyone if the boys made it safely to Celestia's.

Rourke stepped outside, threw his head back, and stared at the gray skies. Well, everything was gray, but he didn't care. He took a cleansing breath of fresh, crisp air. “I hate to complain of a headache, since my sight seems to be returning. I hope the walk will clear it.”

“Your gray vision, or your aching head? I wish to God I'd eaten as sparingly as you last eve. My gut still burns.”

“Should we go back and see if there is something you can take to soothe it?”

“Nay, I'll be fine, now that I know I'm not dying.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

Jamie laughed, then pointed to the left. “They tried to cover their tracks. Do ye think the lady knew what was going on?”

Rourke stretched his back, accepting that Jamie would be leading the way, and content just to be mending. Galiana was a complex woman, a foreign language he desired to learn. Did he think she was capable of poisoning her own men? His gut said no.

“Well?” Jamie prodded, taking huge steps in the snow.

“Nay.”

“Then why did the boy and the priest do it? And why did they take the dispensation? The lady had already agreed to marry you.”

“Even though she didn't want to.” Rourke set his jaw at the thought, quite clearly remembering her brother's anger. “Can you believe she thought to teach me a lesson?”

Jamie's loud laugh echoed around them. “Aye. Ye should have seen the look on your face when she opened the door!”

Rourke grinned. “She scared me, and I don't scare easily.”

“Even in soot and flour, she wasn't that bad,” Jamie teased.

“I like my ladies beautiful; you know that. This one is—” He paused, shaking the snowflake off his nose. “I don't even know what she is. Wrapped up like a Buddha in that fur coat, I could barely get my arm over her shoulder.”

The belly laughs coming from Jamie urged Rourke to ask, “Well, at least tell me the color of her hair. Is it really as dull of a brown as I think?”

“Oh no, my man, ye'll have to judge your wife for yourself. One man's beauty is another man's hag,” Jamie bellowed. “I think they're heading to the village. Let's cut across this way—”

One minute Jamie was in front of him talking, and the next, he was gone.

Rourke rubbed his eyes, wondering if it was a glitch in his vision, but then ran toward the large drift that all of Jamie had sunk in.

Reaching down until his fingers grabbed hair, Rourke pulled until he could grasp his foster brother's collar.

Nothing could happen to Jamie, by Christ. It was he and Jamie against the world—it always had been.

He yanked and pulled until, spluttering and red-faced, Jamie spat, “What in the hell was that?”

“Don't ask me,” Rourke huffed, falling back in the snow. “You were leading the way.”

Jamie exhaled, a plume of air coming from his mouth like smoke as he lay back, too. “I hope they made the village.”

“Me too.”

Rourke knew Galiana felt responsible for her brother and the priest. She'd yet to learn that people were responsible for their own choices in the world. Well, he'd not want to be the one to teach her.

“Should we turn around?” Jamie sat up and shook the snow from his head like a dog from a pond.

“We have to keep on.”

“I know. I'll go a bit slower.”

“Is it me, or is it getting darker?”

“Darker. And it's not even midday.”

They plowed ahead until Rourke was sure his toes would never thaw. He'd lost feeling in his face a long time ago, and the frigid walk had made Jamie too tired to talk.

Everything was gray and cloudy, so he sniffed the air. “Is that smoke ahead?” Rourke blinked against the steadily falling flakes.

Jamie lifted his shaggy, wet head. “Christ, have mercy, I think it is.”

“I'd run,” Rourke said, “But I can't feel my legs.”

They entered the village square and headed toward the first house. They knocked, and a wizened old woman with no teeth in her mouth cracked open the door.

She saw them, clucked her tongue, and invited them in. “What ye doin' out in this weather?”

It took Rourke a minute to thaw his mouth out enough to answer. “Looking for a boy, and the priest”—he inched toward the cheery fire—“Father Jonah.”

“Oh, aye,” the old lady crowed. “They was here, early this morning, they was.”

Rourke's spirits lifted. The journey would be worth it, if he could bring Gali's brother back safe. And then he'd tan the boy's backside, but good, for all the mischief he'd caused. “Where are they now?”

“They left.” She walked to the bubbling pot dangling from its hook over the fire. “Soup?”

“Please,” Jamie said, rubbing his hands together.

He wouldn't allow the scent of barley and beef to tempt him from his questions. “Where, good lady, did they go?”

“That Ed—he wanted to go straight to France.”

Rourke's gut dropped. “France?”

“Aye, we talked 'im out of it, though, at least 'til it stops snowin'!” She laughed, handing a bowl to Jamie.

“If they didn't go to France.” Damn the boy. He planned to take the problem directly to King Philippe. He must not have realized King Philippe and Prince John were joined in treachery against Britain. “Where did they go?”

“Ach, to Wales was his second choice, but Father Jonah—he decided they should go to Falcon Keep.”

“Where's that?” Rourke was getting impatient—which didn't warm his insides as well as did the soup Jamie was loudly enjoying.

“Dunno, me lord, but I gave 'em some soup, and Martha gave them some blankets, and off they went.”

“On foot.” Crazy fools.

“Nay, nay,” the old woman shook her head. “Bartholomew lent 'em a mule, on account that the boys said their father would pay. Good mule, too. Your man there's finished. Would ye like some soup?”

Rourke, disappointed he'd have to travel back to the manor without Galiana's brother, nodded. He might as well have something warm in his belly before returning to the cold. “My thanks.”

Had she said boys? Plural?

It wasn't in his nature to leave a stone unturned, and he heard Jamie's groan as his foster brother realized they weren't going directly back to the manor.

“Rourke, we'll never find them in the dark. And it's snowing again!”

“Stop whining, Jamie. Tell me, good woman, where does Bartholomew live?”

Galiana dropped the last of the filthy rags into the large, boiling pot of vinegar and tansy. She'd never been fond of the stone laundry area, but with the majority of the servants snowed in at the village, and the live-in servants all recovering from her brothers' prank, she had no choice but to do the wash herself.

She stretched her lower back, proud of the cloths already hanging on the drying lines in neat precision. The bailiff had helped her stoke the fire in the pit, and the laundry was filled with steam, which Gali knew would do wonders for her skin.

Patting her damp cheeks, she noticed how red and chapped her hands were, but stifled a squeal of dismay. Being a lady sometimes meant doing the things around the manor that nobody else could do—all whilst smiling and keeping a good temper, of course.

“'Tis a good thing you brats ran away, else I would surely drown you myself!” she muttered as she pushed the soaking rags around the large pot. The wooden handle had been worn smooth of splinters long ago, and Galiana's fingers fit easily into the worn grooves. “Aye, this would make an excellent stick to paddle you with.”

Her words were false bravado. If she could see her brothers safe, she would do this penance and more.

It was her fault they were all in this mess.

Gali's arms ached and trembled, but she dare not think on it, lest she cry. Tears would do her no good, although she promised herself a nice breakdown in her evening bath.

“My lady?”

Wiping a sticky strand of hair from her forehead, Galiana turned at the sound of young Will's voice.

He stared at her until she cleared her throat. It seemed the squire had an infatuation with her, which was neither appropriate nor desired.

He flushed scarlet beneath her scrutiny. “My lady, I still cannot find Robbie—er, Sir Robert. He was at dinner last eve, but—” Will looked at the floor. “What if he went out in the snow? While sick?”

Galiana released the wooden paddle, letting it rest inside the boiling pot. “For fresh air, mayhap?” Worry settled across her shoulders, too.

“He would have been weak.” Will didn't hide the concern he felt for his fellow knight.

“Ned gone, and the priest. Now Robert?” A new thought came to Galiana as she tried to make the pieces fit. Rourke's warning of danger was never far from her thoughts, and she wondered if perhaps Robert was in the mix. What if her brothers had stumbled across someone else trying to poison the manor?

What if—she gulped with immediate terror—what if they were in danger? Not from the snow, but from a man? Sir Robert was a large knight; he could snap a boy's neck in two.

Galiana immediately untied her apron and headed for the hall, gesturing for Will to follow her.

He did.

There were times, like now, that Galiana wished for at least some sort of skewed intuition—even her mother had that—which was why the rest of her family had left for Falcon Keep. The lady Deirdre just ‘knew' her oldest daughter needed her.

Gali concentrated and thought of her brothers with all her might, trying to see if she could reach down into her inner soul and connect with them. Were they safe? Tears filled her eyes, and she angrily brushed them away.

Worthless.

Her skills were nothing legendary. Celestia could heal just by laying her hands on a sick person. Her youngest sister could see auras and was promising to be an even greater beauty—although very, very tall.

She could match a scent with a personality. Hurray. She snorted derisively.

“My lady? Why are ye running?” Will asked, even though he was keeping step with her.

“What if Sir Robert is in a snow drift? He'd freeze afore I could save him! Lord Rourke will not be pleased to come home and find his knight missing. Aye, he will blame me, and I just cannot accept another fault today. We must find him; we must.”

“Your fault, my lady? Never.” He reached out to grab her arm, and Galiana swatted at his hand without ever slowing her pace.

“You are a comely young man, and a good squire to your lord. But you need to learn to not grab the ladies. Smile, be courteous, and they will come to you.” She smiled at him to lessen the sting of her reprimand.

He tripped over his feet, but righted himself quickly. “But yer so beautiful, my lady, and I would fight fer you, I would, and honor you all my life.”

Sighing, Galiana came to a halt. “I have no romantic interest in you. My apologies for speaking so plainly, as it is not my intent to cause you harm. Beauty is nothing. Character—that is what counts. Honor, integrity, loyalty—these are the things that will make you a great knight one day soon.”

He nodded, and Gali could only hope he was listening.

“Lord Rourke is who you swear allegiance to, and he deserves your best; does he not?” She was tempted to tap her toe, she was so impatient, but she refrained. It was her duty to teach chivalry and manners, while respecting this young man's tender feelings. But, by the chastity of the Virgin, she was in no mood!

“Aye, my lady,” Will mumbled to the floor.

“Good.” Galiana brushed her hands together and said, “We needn't mention this to anybody else, my good squire. Renew your pledge to Lord Rourke, and we can forget this ever happened.”