Beauty's Curse (39 page)

He'd been the one to marry her off in the first place!

She didn't miss the daggers the golden-haired woman to John's right was sending her. It was clear to her that the blond and the prince were romantically linked. Magdalene glared at her as well. How to extricate herself from the snake pit?

“I have no gifts to give such a man as you, my prince.” Galiana dimpled innocently. “But if you like, I can sing and play a tune for you.”

His brows rose, and she covered her unintentional innuendo by standing and gesturing to Will. “Now, if you'd like. Will, can you fetch my lute? I'd like to play a song for the prince, and all of his court.”

The golden-haired lady made a mew of distress, and Galiana couldn't help but look at her. Beautiful, as a royal bride should be, yet she wore too much rice powder to try and cover the circles under her eyes. A silver chain dangled down her slender bosom, and at the end of the chain was an enamel pendant. It was shaped like a shield, with red trim and blue and yellow checks, with a rose centered on it.

Brittany.

She frowned, something about the design sparking her memory.

“What is it, Constance?” the prince asked. “Are you not in the mood for music?”

The golden beauty whispered something in the prince's ear that made him chuckle before he looked at Galiana with a shrug. “She's worried you'll ruin her dessert.”

Accepting the sting of the public insult, Galiana dipped a graceful curtsy. “Mayhap another time then.” She'd made the offer, been rebuffed, and now she was free to go. With her priest, of course. Constance was a bitch, and there was no other word for it.

“I'll make certain Father Jonah remembers his proper place, my prince. May I take him now, afore he offends you further?”

Prince John waved his hand, acting bored with the game of cat and mouse. He allowed Constance to feed him bits of apple while Magdalene chattered like a magpie, jealousy over Constance evident on her stealthy expression. Who had the woman been arguing with in her chamber? The prince?

Nay, the voice had been deeper.

She met William Marshall's gaze, sent a silent thank you, and walked as stately down the stairs as if she were being squired by a king, and not a broken priest.

A brute of a knight who smelled like latrine water tried to catch her attention, but she ignored all, keeping her eyes straight ahead. She didn't even stop at her own table, but kept going until they were out of the great hall before slowing to a shuffling walk that was easier on Father Jonah.

“I thought to save ye, my lady. Instead, he kept me locked away. I'm sorry. The boys?”

“On their way to Celestia's.”

“Priest!” Rourke thundered as he caught up to them. Had he run from the hall? Ruining her graceful exit?

Jamie, by Rourke's side, shouted, “You deserve to be flogged, and worse, for what ye did to the manor!”

The priest lifted his head, his lip swollen and stained with dried blood. “I did nothing, asides get Ned out of there before either of ye killed him.”

“Layla poisoned the stew,” Galiana said sternly. “Not Father Jonah.”

“We know about Ed,” Rourke informed the priest coldly. “What do you know of Sir Robert?”

“Sir Robert? Your knight? Why would I know something about one of your men?”

“He's dead, Father. Murdered, after paying Layla to add buckthorn bark to the food.” Galiana patted the priest's shaking arm to calm him.

He made the sign of the cross with trembling fingers. “I know nothing about that.”

“You know a lot about nothing,” Jamie scorned.

“Where are Franz and Godfrey?” Galiana searched, but didn't see the two men.

“Godfrey took Franz to our chamber. The meal was burning his guts,” Jamie rubbed his belly.

Rourke exhaled, allowing his frustration to be seen very clearly. It was unusual for the man to show any honest emotion, and Galiana realized he must be more shaken than she thought. If only he would let her soothe him.

However, his voice was smooth as he said, “Let's go to the stables; we must talk. Galiana, well done, indeed. William Marshall had the right of it there. Prince John was going to set our marriage aside and give ye to Lord Harold.”

Rourke wanted to see Galiana—not just the shadows of her. He knew her with his fingertips; he knew her with his lips; he knew her with his heart.

He couldn't tell her he'd been ordered by King William to set her aside and wed Constance—especially not after she'd just told the entire court how happy she was being married to him.

And he couldn't kill her.

Sweet Jesu, how his life of lies was catching up to him.

“Prince John—” he started to say.

“Are he and Constance having an affair?” Galiana's question pierced another hole in his mental blindfold, and Rourke grabbed Jamie's arm at the realization. She added, “The woman glared daggers at me.”

“Christ's bones,” Rourke breathed. “What if they—”

“We need to save our talk for the outdoors,” Jamie warned.

Will came running, Galiana's lute in his hands. He skidded to a stop. “What happened?” He breathed heavily. “I thought ye were going to play for the prince.”

“Outside!” Rourke thundered, not willing to waste another minute on lying.

Jamie led the way, with Rourke right behind him. He kept his hand on his sword, his expression stern. He didn't want any interference. It was time to clear the air.

The stables were familiar, and Rourke felt his tension subside as the smell of hay, apples, and horseflesh wafted toward him. He and Jamie had convinced more than one pretty maid to roll with them in the straw, he reminisced with a smile. Although now the only “pretty” maid he wanted was a prim, sarcasm-prone lady who had compassion and grace.

He had to break her spirit, or her neck.

He didn't like either option.

Rourke could make out the horses hanging their chins over the stalls as he walked down the center of the stables. The wooden structures, while not clear, were boundaries he could see and not walk into. Jamie searched each stall to make certain they were alone.

At the end were vacant stalls, and the instant they were inside one of them Will broke out into a frenzied string of explanations that Rourke couldn't make sense of.

“Stop!” he said, sitting on a bale of hay, and remembering Galiana's courage on their wedding night. “What say you? Slowly, Will.”

Jamie said, “Hold. Father Jonah, ye can be the lookout.”

The old priest's voice trembled as he asked, “What do I do?”

“Go back down a couple of stalls, and sit back against one of them. If someone's comin', let us know. Sing or something. And don't listen too close to our conversation, else we'll have to kill ye.”

“Jamie!” Galiana exploded.

“Jamie.” Rourke shook his head.

The priest left the stall and walked a ways before Jamie told him to halt and take a seat. “Act like yer nappin', without nappin'.” Jamie peered over the edge of the stall door to watch until seemingly satisfied Father Jonah could follow simple directions.

“Are you ready, Jamie?” Galiana asked in a too-sweet tone.

“Lass, don't start! What if we're talkin', and someone comes up ta kill us all?”

“Kill us? Please, sir, you have an obsession with murder.”

Rourke whistled. “Truce, the two of you. Will wants to speak his piece, and then we can combine what we know, and mayhap get out of this with our lives.”

“You mean we really are in danger?”

“Galiana, later,” Rourke said with what he felt was infinite patience.

“Pox on that!” she exclaimed.

Jamie burst into laughter, breaking the tension between him and the lady. Rourke nodded to his foster brother before gesturing to his squire.

“Will?”

“I tried to tell ya, I did, and then ye were never alone. Why is that, my lord? Even if it were just Jamie, I would have said something, but no, ye've got more guards than the bloody king. Fat lot of good it did him, too. Bugger.”

Rourke grinned. “Tried to tell me what, Will?”

“I work, sometimes, for the queen.”

Rourke somehow kept his temper from exploding, though he ground his back teeth so hard something cracked.

“Which queen, boy?” He'd welcomed Will into his home, and had considered him a younger version of himself. And what queen had he always served? “Eleanor.”

“Aye,” Will answered miserably.

Jamie gave a sardonic snort of laughter. “Old bird.”

“You aren't mad?” Galiana asked with obvious surprise. “Either of you?”

Rourke nodded, clasping his hands together, his two index fingers making a point. “I'm mad, all right. At myself. Should've seen it.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed. “It's plain as day, now that the rascal admits it.”

“You're all insane,” Galiana huffed. “Anybody else you would have hung by their toenails! I thought—”

Rourke cut her off before she asked more of the wrong questions. “Will, why did you admit it?”

“I thought ye knew, and that ye were takin' me back here to beat me, or worse.”

“I take it ye were missin' earlier 'cause ye were meetin' the queen?” Jamie scratched his scalp.

“But she's not here,” Rourke said, certain he would have known if she was. Unless he'd fallen from grace somehow; but he couldn't imagine it. The queen rewarded loyalty with staunch support, and he'd always been true to her. King William understood.

“Not here, no,” Will said. “But close enough by. She wants to meet you and the lady Galiana at the old manor lodge. She said ye'd know the one.”

“Of course!” Rourke stood, ready to leave immediately.

“In the morn,” Galiana said, censure in her tone. “Before the sun rises.”

“What ails ye?” Rourke demanded, his own head pulsating with ache.

“She says jump, and you all, three men, ask how high?” Galiana stood, her hands on her hips.

“Aye,” Rourke said in unison with Will and Jamie.

Galiana crossed her arms.

“She's our queen. Raised us from nothing, to the men we are today—whether you approve or no, my lady, we are alive because of her.” Rourke hoped Galiana could understand, because any woman he loved would have to.

And if she, the greatest schemer of all time, were here, then mayhap he'd get to keep his lady.

“An orphan, I was,” Jamie said. “She saw to it that I was trained, squired, and knighted.”

“I love her,” Will said simply and best.

“Oh …” Galiana sighed. “That's lovely.”

“Enough of that, now.” Rourke rubbed his temples, but nothing eased the dull, persistent pain behind his eye. “We must find a way out of this trap before we become a part of it. Jamie, you noticed all of the barons here? And Lord Harold—he's wearing Prince John's insignia now, out in the open. If the prince can gather as many men as all of that, then who says he can't be king?”

“We do,” Will said. “By finding that thing the prince stole.”

“Well, lad, tell us what ye know about that?” Jamie kicked at the straw.

“Nothin', Jamie! Only that sometimes, nay, mayhap just the once, I heard talk of it. I don't know what it is, only that King Richard once had it then returned it to King William, and now the prince has it. And ye're worried that if he has it, he can be king, so we need ta get it back.”

“None of you are loyal to Prince John?” Galiana seemed to be pulling her hair out, so Rourke put his hand on her arm.

“I told you—I'm a spy for King William.”

“You are?” Will plopped to his knees.

“Now we'll have to kill the little sod,” Jamie growled.

“I won't say nothin'!”

“You can't kill him, Jamie. He would have figured it out eventually.” Galiana's reasonable tone irritated Rourke, so he dropped his hand. “Does Eleanor know you have split loyalties?”

“Before this”—he gestured to the stable roof—“I was a damn good spy. Not that you'd know.”

“I believe you,” Galiana said, a hint of laughter coloring her words.

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” Father Jonah said suddenly, and loudly. “Our Father, who art in heaven …”

They all quieted as a man with a loud voice questioned what Father Jonah was doing in the stable. His stench overpowered the earthy scents of the stables, and Rourke gripped the hilt of his sword.

Harold.

Jamie grunted a question of whether or not they should attack Lord Harold before the knight caused any more trouble.

Rourke shook his head. It was time to gather information, not create more trouble.

Father Jonah and Lord Harold left the stables together and, as soon as it was clear, Rourke told everyone it was best to split up. “I will know more by tomorrow. We must all be on guard!”