Page 364 of Historical Hotties
Gisella’s heart beat furiously against her ribs and her breathing began to come in strange gasps. The giddiness that she had now come to associate with Bastian filled her, causing her hands to tremble. She didn’t know what she was feeling for the man yet but she knew that she had quickly become fond of him over the past few days. The memories of their difficult beginning were completely gone. Now, all she could remember were his smile and the warmth from his eyes. It was something she was coming to crave. Something about his genuine attention towards her, his kindness and interest in her opinion, had endeared him to her. The man was starting to get under her skin.
“Surely… surely you can do better than that,” she whispered, feeling bold and daring. “A kiss to the nose is something a parent would give to a child.”
Bastian’s lips broadened in a smile. “You would prefer a kiss that an adult gives to an adult?”
“Mayhap.”
His smile grew. “A kiss that a husband gives to a wife?”
“That would possibly be acceptable.”
Bastian didn’t hesitate. He lifted his hands, cupping her face between his big palms and swallowing up her entire head. Tilting his head slightly, his lips slanted over hers in a warm, sweet, and utterly delicious kiss. It was brief, for he did not want to make a spectacle of himself or of her, but he couldn’t resist. She was asking for him to kiss her, as a man kisses a woman, and he could not refuse her in any case. After a few moments of his tender, tantalizing kiss, he drew back to look at her.
“How was that?” he asked huskily.
Gisella was close to swooning. She had no idea how to answer him because he seemed to have sucked all of the thoughts right out of her head. Instinctively, she licked her lips, tasting him upon her flesh, and Bastian’s warm expression faded. Now, it was filled with lust. He dropped his hands from her and abruptly looked away.
“Great Bleeding Christ,” he hissed. “I wonder if anyone would notice if we were to leave at this moment?”
Dazed, Gisella blinked rapidly a few times, struggling to collect herself. “What… what do you mean?”
He meant that he wanted to go home and consummate this marriage that was becoming increasingly agreeable to him. He didn’t want to be here, sitting next to a boy-king, pretending he wasn’t upset that he’d been pulled off the battlefield to play nursemaid. He wanted to return to Braidwood with his wife and do what he should have done the night they were married. But,in a sense, he was glad they hadn’t consummated it. Now, it would mean something to him becauseshewas coming to mean something to him. She was coming to mean a great deal to him, in fact. He was a fortunate man and he knew it.
“I suppose I would rather go back to Braidwood than be here,” he finally said, turning to look at her. “I would rather be brawling with Martin. And I would rather spend time with you.”
Gisella laughed softly and started to reply when there came a commotion over by the hall entry. Their attention turned towards the source of the disturbance in time to see Gloucester emerge from the shadowed entry followed by several of his men.
Like a returning prince, Gloucester made his way into the great hall that was full of diners and servants, greeting friends and fellow diners as he approached the dais. He soaked up the adoration in the room, the royal respect, perhaps pretending it was all for him. As the brother of a king and also the uncle of a king, he had always hoped for such veneration. As he approached the king’s table, he spied Bastian seated next to the king and his attention never wavered. It was fixed upon the knight.
“Bastian,” he said as he came upon the table. “I am pleased to find you here. How long have you been in London?”
After what Bastian had been told about Gloucester and his advances towards Gisella, he was feeling distinctly less magnanimous about him but he kept his manner even. Still, it was a bit of a struggle.
“We arrived earlier today, my lord,” he replied.
Gloucester took an empty cup and poured some wine into it. “And your father?” he asked. “How is he?”
Bastian watched the man drink. “Better than I had been led to believe,” he said. “He wants to come to London now. I told him he must wait until I settle into my duties here.”
Gloucester drained the cup, smacking his lips. “It would do Braxton good to come to London,” he said. “As it is, he is moldering away at West Court. Let him come to where the action is.”
Bastian wriggled his eyebrows in disagreement. “The last thing he needs is action,” he said. “But I would agree that coming to London might be beneficial for him. Moreover, I could spend some time with him. Seeing him so briefly made me realize just how much I have missed him.”
Gloucester poured himself more wine. “Then you should spend more time with him, of course,” he said, his attention shifting to young Henry. He smiled at the boy. “Good evening, Your Grace. Have you and Bastian become well acquainted?”
Henry’s mouth was full of cheese. “He knew my father,” he said, chewing. “We talked about my father this afternoon.”
Gloucester pretended to be interested. “Is that so?” he said. “Indeed, he knew your father well. He could probably tell you much that you did not know about your father.”
Henry looked at Bastian, who smiled faintly at the boy. But his mouth was full so he turned back to his food and Gloucester returned his attention to Bastian.
“Bas, do you have a moment?” he asked, indicating for Bastian to follow him. “I must speak with you. Briefly, of course. I will not keep you over long.”
Bastian stood up, patting Gisella on the shoulder, before following Gloucester away from the table and into a corner of the hall. It was darker in the corners, away from the brightly burning torches.
Before Gloucester even opened his mouth, Bastian knew the topic of conversation.Gloucester knows, he had told his father. There was no doubt in his mind the subject that was going to be presented, which gave Bastian a few moments of preparation time before engaging.Deny it, Braxton had said. Now that themoment of truth was upon him, Bastian wondered if he would. He was a truthful man and not one given to lies, but in this case….
“Did you receive my missive at West Court?” Gloucester asked as they settled into a darkened corner. “I sent it two days ago. You should have received it.”
