Beauty's Curse (35 page)

There was coin.

Galiana soon had the young boy racing back down the stairs for water, hot, and a towel. How well he got paid depended on how fast he did his duty.

While she waited, she looked around the chamber. The ceilings were bare of decoration, with the exception of some simple cornices, and the curtains over the glazed windows were a dull burgundy. The room had been designed to handle an overflow of guests. Poorer guests who wouldn't complain.

Four individual beds were in the room, with a chest at the foot of each, and a table with a pitcher and bowl for washing. There wasn't room for an armoire, so there were multiple hooks on each wall space next to the bed. It was designed for function, without privacy, Galiana noticed and squirmed.

How could she seduce her husband here?

It seemed two of the four beds were already occupied. Personal items were strewn on the top of the comforters, as if the other two boarders had suddenly been called away.

Galiana was left with the bed closest to the door, or the bed closest to the outer stone wall. One would be noisy, and the other drafty.

She chose the bed closest to the door so she could escape.

That settled, she set her cask on the bed and opened the lid. The canvas she'd wrapped round and round the cask had protected it from the elements, and her herbs and oils were safely tucked, unbroken, inside. The release of scent into the musty room was strong, but welcome.

Next she took the saddlebags filled with her clothes. Almost everything was damp, except for the green silk she'd wrapped so carefully in leather hides. Shaking the garment out, Gali was pleased it wasn't ruined. She'd have something beautiful to wear at the evening meal with the prince.

For surely he was here?

She laid out the fabric on the length of the bed to get rid of as many wrinkles as she could without a smoothing stone. Then Galiana quickly pulled out her other things, and, after dusting each with a scented powder, she folded and stacked all in the chest at the foot of the bed.

She'd deliberately chosen to keep her jewelry simple. “Less,” her mother had said, “was often more.”

Her brushes, her cosmetics, her shoes, and a clean tunic and dry linen undergown were set out and ready for her to change into as soon as that boy came back …

A knock sounded on the door, and Galiana pasted on a smile as she opened it. To her surprise, Franz stood unsteadily before her.

“Sir Franz—are you ill?”

Three days of riding together made him familiar, and she didn't hesitate to invite him in to sit on the edge of her bed—with the door open, of course.

“Non, mademoiselle, simply tired.” He scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Have you a place to rest?”

“Aye, but I must find Will first. Have you seen him? He was supposed to have followed you here.”

Galiana's nose scrunched. “He was spying on me?”

Franz appeared startled. “Non! For your own protection, my lady.”

“Well, it would be easy to get lost here. It's a veritable maze.”

Franz stood, swaying before righting himself. “I'll go the stables again, although neither Jamie nor Will was there.”

Concerned, Galiana reached her hand out to rest her fingers on his sleeve. “You should sleep, Franz. It has been a difficult journey.”

“And yet you look as fresh as a summer morn,” he said with a flourish as he took her hand and lightly kissed her fingers.

“There is no need for chivalry when you look dead on your feet, good sir,” she giggled. “Please, find your bed.”

“If you need help touring the castle, I offer my services. I know it quite well.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, wondering if there was something else on his mind.

He nodded, then turned to leave just as the page returned with a huge bowl of water, and two towels. The page's eyes were wide at seeing a handsome knight in a lady's chamber, and Galiana knew her reputation was at stake.

“My thanks, good sir, for bringing me news of my husband. I will tell him of your dedication to me.” She simpered and curtsied to Franz.

The French knight smiled speculatively. “You are a treasure, my lady. And quick of wit. Until later.”

Galiana gladly paid the boy after he set the bowl down. It occurred to her that if Will could so easily get lost trying to follow them, then she had no hope of ever safely leaving this chamber.

But she didn't want to keep Franz from his sickbed.

“Tell me, boy—do you know Rourke Wallace?”

The page laughed. “Everybody knows Lord Rourke.”

“I will pay you, if you can take me to him.” Galiana paused. “He's a great warrior, then?”

This time the lad blushed. “Aye. But he's known more for his ways with the ladies,” the boy said in an awed whisper. “Ye should know that, aye? Ye're beautiful… even covered with mud.” Having reached the extent of his bravery, he turned and ran, calling, “I'll be back for ye!”

Galiana's belly coiled with uncertainty. She was at court, surrounded by women just as beautiful as she. Only they had experience swimming through the dark waters. How was she to know who had—she swallowed burning tears—been intimate with her husband? Or was it easier to speculate who hadn't been?

Angry, she bathed, then applied light color to her lips and cheeks. She brushed out her hair until it crackled and set a braided circlet of turquoise leather on top of a sheer ivory kerchief to cover some of her hair. Both colors accentuated the deep auburn waves.

Dressing in fresh clothes was a balm to her spirit, bolstering her flagging courage. She'd chosen a turquoise tunic with moderate tippet sleeves. Her undergown was serviceable linen with a scalloped hem, but her slippers were exquisitely embroidered with seed pearls and turquoise stones.

She added a bracelet of turquoise and pearl, and a dangling necklace of the same. A dab of her own lavender and lemon scent behind each ear, and she decided she was as ready as she could be.

The page arrived, as if by magic.

“Ye look lovely, my lady,” he said, adoration in his youthful eyes. Her mother said boys were taught to give a lady their undying adoration, and it was up to the lady to teach the boy, usually a squire, how to behave in a chivalrous manner.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting the compliment with a dip of her head. She held out a coin, and the page backed away.

“Nay, my lady. 'Tis my honor to lead you through the castle.”

Galiana lifted her chin and smiled with approval. “Nicely done, young page. You will have no problem rising in rank with manners such as those.”

He knew the castle well, and before she could assimilate which way to turn, she was standing before her husband's door, unaccountably nervous.

She knew he was sharing a room with his men, so it wouldn't be out of place for her to be in his apartments.

But wait … Once again, she was forgetting their shouted vows. She had every right to be here.

“My lady?”

Galiana looked down at the page. “You may go.

What is your name?”

“Gregor.”

“I will ask for you again, Gregor. Thank you.”

He grinned, showing a missing tooth in a bright smile, and left.

She had no choice but to knock and hope she wasn't interrupting a meeting between Rourke and his knights. How would she explain why she hadn't listened to his order to wait and meet in the hall over dinner?

Lifting her hand, she tapped lightly and the door immediately swung open.

She gasped.

“You weren't expecting anyone to answer, my lady?”

“How—”

“You were loud enough out there. Anybody could have heard you.” Rourke gestured to the hall, which looked empty to her.

He pulled her inside the chamber.

If she'd thought her room to be bare, it was nothing compared to the starkness of Rourke's chamber.

“I thought they were bringing you to your regular apartment.”

“They did,” Rourke said, walking to the bench beneath the window.

“Oh.” Did the man not value softness? Or color? He dressed like a man of means and taste, and yet this place—his private space—was barren and cold.

She shivered before joining him on the bench.

Galiana took his hands in hers.

“My lord …” she started to say.

He shook his head, his shaggy brown hair shining with gold in the late day sun. The neat row of black stitches along his eyelid gave her a good reason to have come.

“I but wanted to remove these,” she said, reaching out to press her fingers against the bristled knots. Even now she couldn't imagine where she'd had the strength to sew such a delicate line against his eye. She'd been so careful to avoid marring his masculine beauty.

He tilted his head and smiled devilishly.

A thrill tumbled in her belly. He would be beautiful wearing an eye patch.

She pulled her sharp knife from the tiny little scabbard on her belt. “It won't hurt,” she said, her fingers trembling.

“It will if you poke me in the eye.”

“Oh!”

“I was jesting, my lady. Please, hack away. They itch.”

“It won't scar,” she said, breathing in the scent of him, the masculine combination of deepest night, strength, and temptation that never failed to heat her blood.

“You think I care about scars?” He sounded offended, and she verbally stepped back.

“Nay! Ah, well, mayhap. You are”—she swallowed and removed another stitch with her precise blade—“slightly handsome.” Saint Vitus help her, he made her crazy with the fall of his hair around his angled face, his gray eyes that glimmered gold when he was angry, or aroused.

Her breathing hitched, and her breasts grew heavy with want.

“You find me handsome, Galiana?” His voice dropped seductively.

Only one stitch left, and then what excuse would she have to touch him? To mark him as belonging to her? Her body hummed with needing Rourke. Pleasure. His kisses had branded her. Their hasty wedding night in the cold barn had been disappointing. For certes, she knew there was more than that. While she understood why it had been so, she wanted a different memory of loving.

She yanked the last stitch and smoothed the sting with the pad of her thumb.

Then she boldly pulled his head down and pressed her lips to the tender new skin.

“Aye,” she angled her mouth to fit his, reveling in the soft, yet firm, texture. “I find you handsome, husband,” she said, reminding him that they could love without censure.

Their kiss, hot and lustful, weakened her with desire.

She'd race Rourke to the bed, she thought with a wicked laugh.

He pushed her back when she leaned in for another kiss.

“Nay.” His voice was gruff. “I'll not take more from you than I already have.”

Galiana's ardor cooled. “What say you?”

“I never should have consummated our vows.”

Her chin lifted, and she straightened her spine.

“Why is that? You seek to set me aside? You've won your prize, and you've found it lacking?”

The visage of Lady Magdalene took over her mind. Delicate, a lady, and in love with Rourke.

But he didn't know how she felt… Ach, she couldn't tell him now. This hurt was bad enough.

“Lacking? Nay, never you, my lady. You are all things good in this world—too good for me,” he said earnestly.

Hurt, Galiana rejected his words. “You and your lies. What do they get you?”

“Truth.”

“What?” She didn't understand. She wanted him, he wanted her, and yet he still was not satisfied.

Rourke had to make her understand. Guilt, an emotion he wasn't familiar with, ate at his belly. He cared for her, which is why he never should have slept with her. He should have killed Harold as well as Christien, and then done battle with any man who dared get close enough to hurt her. He needed to explain his feelings. Instead, he said, “Let me tell you about the Breath of Merlin.”

“So now you want to talk about that,” she scoffed. He could see her blurred outline in the sunlight, but her loving and compassionate nature outshone the sun. His cold heart cracked open, and it hurt like hell. He owed her this much. At the very least.

“The Breath of Merlin is an ancient stone, the size of a man's head.”

He sensed her stillness and knew he'd caught her attention.

“Man almost perished on the British Isles. There were all manner of beasts and monsters, dragons, and evil spirits who didn't want man to succeed. Legend says that the majestic lion, ruler of all, was losing power. The two leaders, men, and lion, came to Merlin to strike a deal. They each made some kind of a sacrifice.”

Galiana's sudden inhale made him ask, “What?”

“Do you know what they sacrificed?” Her voice shook. “'Twas their babies—a cub and an infant, and there was a granite ledge, and a storm, and I witnessed this. The wizard said the truth had been forgotten, and it's my job to witness this thing done, and right the path.”