Beauty's Curse (38 page)

By the time she went downstairs for dinner, she was armed from her small feet encased in delicate heeled slippers to her sparkling white teeth. She was hunting for a prince.

Rourke sat next to Jamie, Godfrey, and Franz. Will served them, as was his job as squire. The boy had been acting strange, but Rourke hadn't had time alone to question him. Will claimed to have gotten lost and somehow ended up in the dog kennels.

The boy lied, albeit smoothly. Rourke recognized the signs.

“Where is the lady?” Impatience and concern for Galiana wore at his frazzled temper. What if she was being mocked for not having the current fashions? Galiana was a disaster, and all he'd seen were pieces of drab tunics and cloaks; she had plenty of heavy cloaks. Women's tongues were deadly and sharp as an arrow point. Sometimes as poisonous.

“For the hundredth time”—Jamie drank from his mug, wiping the foam from his upper lip—“I don't know.”

“Should we have Will go searching for her?” Franz asked. Worry was evident in the question, along with something else Rourke couldn't put his finger on. Did the knight have feelings for Galiana, beyond mere flirtation?

He'd kill the little Frenchman before he ever got the chance.

“Nay, here she is,” Will said in an awed voice. “My lady!” he shouted above the din—so loudly it got the entire hall's attention. Rourke was amazed when everyone stopped talking.

Poor Galiana. What had she worn? He would not have her treated with scorn, nor humiliation. He stood so quickly the bench skidded back, even with Jamie and Franz's weight on it. “My lady! I've saved a seat by me. I've not touched a morsel, waiting for your hands to feed me.”

Jamie snickered. “Too late to be charming; the lass has seen your true colors.” He cleared his throat, holding up his hand to his mouth, and then said, “She's lookin' this way.”

Will sighed. “She's coming toward us, a vision in green.”

“Green?” Rourke didn't care for green, but he kept his welcoming smile in place until he felt her hand on his arm.

“Thank you, my lord Rourke. 'Twill be my great”—she paused for effect—“pleasure to tempt you with the most succulent pieces.”

Laughing applause sounded throughout the hall as the court approved the newcomer.

Rourke swallowed. His prim, country lady sounded like a skilled seductress. His body throbbed to life, remembering the feel of her lips and the scent of her skin. The unkept promises of pleasure between them.

If he saw her dress as a shade of brown, and yet it was green, then what color, in truth, was her hair?

The length of it brushed the floor as she sat on the bench betwixt him and Jamie. The color mattered not one bit as he easily imagined himself and Galiana naked except for the covering of her soft curls.

He bit the inside of his cheek to stay focused on the here and now.

“Thank you, good sirs,” she said in greeting to all of the knights and lords at the table. Jamie had been careful to seat him with men they knew.

“Greetings, my lady.”

“Well met, my lady.”

“Would ye care for some wine, my lady?”

Rourke heard the sincere desire to please in each of the men's voices, and he didn't like it.

“Will you not choose something for me, my lady?” He put his hand out on the table, hoping to cover hers. Instead, he knocked over a goblet.

“Ah!” Galiana quickly righted the mess with a laugh. “How clumsy of me,” she said, moving her napkin around the damp puddle while calling for Will to get more napkins.

“It was my fault,” he growled.

“Nay, although you are most kind to take the blame, my lord.”

“Will it stain?” he whispered.

“'Tis water, my lord,” she answered back. She leaned over, her lavender and lemon scent encompassing him. “Open your mouth, sir, and have a bite of this. Game hen. The thigh is the best part.”

“I prefer the breast,” he said, accepting the meat and chewing. He wanted her as ruffled as he was. He liked it better when he was in control.

Will rushed back, coming to a halt behind Rourke. “Here are some towels. My lady, the prince wants an audience with ye.”

Rourke stiffened. He was in no position to tell the prince nay, and he was in no shape to protect his wife from the royal upstart.

He detected the faintest of tremors in her voice, and yet she answered graciously, “For certes! I am most eager to meet Prince John and thank him for his hospitality.”

“And yer husband thanks him, too,” Jamie suggested with a jab to Rourke's ribs.

“I'll go with you,” Rourke said, praying he could play the part of loyal follower without giving his hand away.

“Do ye think that's wise?” Galiana asked. “I will go alone.”

“The prince didn't invite ye, Rourke. But ye'll have me, my lady,” Will answered gallantly. The squire was coming along, Rourke thought. Eleanor would be proud.

If he squinted, Rourke could make out the raised royal table on the dais. Jamie had said Constance and Magdalene were both sitting with the prince, as was William Marshall, who'd been traveling through and was staying just for the night.

Rourke would bet the man was gathering information on the barons present, and that the wily William Marshall, loyal to whatever man was in power at the time, was quite interested in who sat closest to the prince.

Jamie had set them two tables down—close enough to be seen, but not so close that the prince could overhear their conversation. Jamie excelled at reading people's lips, so he sat where he had full view of the royal table.

Rourke would owe his foster brother once this mission was over, for taking on the lion's share of the work. Mayhap he'd gift him his property in Wales? Far away from Scotland and King William's wrath, should Jamie decide to make a life with his Margaret.

“I'll be back, my lords. Save me a bite?” Galiana's voice poured over him like sunshine. She lifted the goblet of wine and drank before getting to her feet.

“For courage?” he jested softly.

She leaned down to kiss his cheek and said, “Aye, pray for me that I don't faint. 'Tis overdone here at court, methinks,” she laughed.

He grabbed her by the hand. “You will be fine. He's a man, like any other.”

She left, and he groaned. She'd been wearing the magic ring on her hand. God help them if the prince recognized it…

They were all going to be drawn and quartered.

A man like any other? She couldn't have disagreed more. Prince John sat back at the royal table as if he'd stuffed himself and could no longer move. His hands were weighted down by jewels, and she quickly turned the ancient ring on her finger around so that a simple band of silver was all that showed.

Could she flirt with a prince without getting burned? Or should she act the modest lady, awed by his power? Men liked that.

She didn't hesitate to follow her instincts.

Smiling with but a small corner of her mouth lifted so that her cheek dimpled, she glided toward the dais. Galiana stopped at the bottom stair and dipped her head, inhaling the underlying scent of sandalwood and ash. Prince John's cologne.

The women at the dais giggled, but Galiana kept her composure. The lady Magdalene whispered something unintelligible to the pretty blond next to her, who laughed.

“Ye needn't bow to me, my lady,” the prince intoned. “Come, join me.”

She slowly lifted her long neck, knowing his eyes were taking in her entire form. Her slender fingers, her narrow feet. Her pale, slim neck. She saw him catalogue her assets and knew by his parted lips that he was captivated.

Galiana didn't bother glancing at the women, who understood they'd met a rival and laughter wouldn't be tolerated. She took the seat next to the prince's, folding her hands in her lap and gazing at him with wide open, interested eyes.

“Your name?” He reached for her hand and kissed each fingertip.

Galiana hid the coil of revulsion his full, greasy lips brought to her sensitive skin. He was a snake, hiding and biding his time. She lowered her eyes demurely.

“Lady Galiana Montehue.”

He lowered her hand and laughed in surprise. “Really? And tell me, lovely lady, are you married?”

“Aye.” She made a show of gesturing to where Rourke sat, tension in the breadth of his shoulders. She prayed nobody else would notice. Mayhap it was caused by his feelings for her.

“To Lord Rourke Wallace?”

Gali chuckled, deep and throatily. “Aye, my prince. He won me in a wager.”

Prince John choked on his wine and hastily set the goblet down. “Aha, so you know about that?”

“I was surprised to find that my prince thought I was a worthy prize.” She laughed softly as his eyes grazed her figure. “How would you have heard about me, a simple country girl?”

“Simple?” He reached over to caress her knee. “If all country girls were like you, I'd take up the plow.”

Galiana giggled appreciatively.

“Your father was here over the summer, and I admit I overheard him speaking with my mother. His older daughter had just wed, which left you, and an even younger daughter, aye?”

Careful to stifle her fear as she thought of lovely Ela as a pawn in this prince's hands, Galiana sighed. “'Tis true; he was here.”

“He was asking a boon of the king—something about a special dispensation?”

Gali bowed her head, knowing she had to hide her anger. The prince had known about it all along and had deliberately chosen to disregard the matter. Rourke had been right. She lifted her face and smiled. “That's hardly important now. Wouldn't you agree, my prince? Thanks to you, I've met a man I'm proud to call husband.”

“My lady, you've charmed me.” Prince John rubbed his hands together, lackadaisically meeting his squire's eyes as he motioned for him. “Perhaps I was too hasty. I have a gift for you. A second chance, if you will.”

Confused, Galiana kept nothing but rapt interest on her face. The ring burned into her palm, and she knew to be on her guard. An ominous feeling pervaded her being, and she allowed a wrinkle of concern to settle on her face. “My prince?”

“It's been brought to my attention that I may have been”—he paused—“rash in my choice of husbands for you. Your good servant—” Prince John gestured for his squire to come forward, and Galiana couldn't contain her shock at seeing a bent, dirty old man being escorted onto the dais.

“Father Jonah?” Galiana rose to her feet, her stomach revolting against the harm done to the priest. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Whoa, ho,” Prince John laughed. “There's the fire I was looking for behind the pretty mask. So you claim this man as one of yours?”

“Aye.” Galiana wouldn't cater to the prince's sick humor, nor would she allow herself to be the butt of his joke. “What has he done? Pray tell all of us”—she gestured to the rapt faces watching the prince's sick show—“what this old man has done to offend you. I will see to it myself that he makes amends.”

She saw William Marshall purse his lips in thought, but she knew she had to battle the prince alone. For her family's honor, she would win. Thanks be to Boadicea, she had her own armory.

Using her cat-shaped eyes to enthrall, she tilted her lips in an inviting smile. She sat back down in the chair, letting her hair cascade over the prince's bare forearm. “Of course, he shall be punished again for whatever misstep he's taken.”

“He claims I've made a mistake. I, the prince of England. And that this dispensation allows you, a mere woman”—his eyes raked her with lust and the perverse need to subdue that which threatened him—“to choose your husband for yourself.”

Galiana moistened her lips and let her lids lower before widening again. Accepting his challenge.

“'Tis the truth he speaks, but as I said earlier, the point is moot. You've chosen my husband quite wisely, my prince.” This time she leaned over to rest her hand appealingly on the prince's hand. “My thanks.” There. Acknowledgement that I bow before his power … Fool.

He stared at her without blinking, and she kept her teasing smile in place.

William Marshall started a slow clap. “Well done, my lady. For certes, I'm not clear why you have such a thing as the dispensation, but if the king signed it, then it would hold in court.”

“'Tis the queen mother's signature, on our king's behalf,” Galiana replied modestly.

“However, if ye're happy with Lord Rourke”—William Marshall gestured at her furious but gorgeous husband—“and I don't see why ye wouldn't be”—he paused while the crowd laughed aloud—“then Prince John did indeed do you a great service.”

Galiana vowed to say a thousand novenas for William Marshall's soul. He'd saved her from an impossible position by joining her game. She knew the prince had been ready to nullify her marriage to Rourke—for whom? And why?