Page 372 of Historical Hotties
“Will your fatherput Henry to bed?” Gisella asked as Bastian escorted her up the stairs. “It is not too much of a burden on him to leave the king with him, is it?”
Bastian shook his head as he mounted the stairs. “Nay,” he said. “That is what he wants, why he told us to leave. You must understand that my father rarely leaves West Court, so the advent of new people to talk to, especially a frightened young boy, appeals to him greatly. Henry is in excellent hands.”
Gisella nodded. “I am sure he is,” she said. “I did not mean it the way it sounded. I simply meant that your father is obviously quite exhausted after his trip to Braidwood. He looked rather pale. Mayhap it is too much of a burden for him to be responsible for the king tonight.”
They had reached the top of the stairs and Bastian turned right, heading down a dimly lit corridor that had wood-paneled walls.
“I understand your concern,” he said. “Truth be told, my father’s appearance concerns me as well but he simply needs rest. Speaking to Henry before the fire will not tax him. Moreover, I will go down there in a while to check on them both.”
Gisella felt rather foolish voicing her concerns when Bastian already had everything planned out, so she kept quiet as he led her down the hall until he reached a heavy, carved door with a hunting scene etched into it. Opening the door, he ushered Gisella into the chamber beyond.
There was a fire in the hearth, illuminating the richly appointed chamber. There was a massive four poster bed against the wall with heavy curtains hanging from the top of the frame, at least two comfortable chairs near the hearth that Gisella could see, plus a table and four frame chairs around it. The room was large enough to support both a sleeping and eating area, another example of the de Russe wealth.
As she moved more deeply into the room and Bastian went to light the tapers near the bed, she noticed that her capcases were lined neatly against the wall. There was also a doorway to her left, on the opposite side of the bed, and she strained to catch a glimpse of what might be beyond the doorway. As her gaze lingered on the dark room beyond, Bastian finished lighting two fat tapers. The room began to glow.
“This will be our chamber for the duration of our stay here,” he told her. “There is a dressing room attached that we share with the chamber next to us, one that the king will be sleeping in. I had Lady Sparrow put on this floor although I am not entirely sure which room she is in, but I will find out. I have some business to carry out with my knights at the moment but I will return shortly. I will have warm water brought up to you so that you may wash if you wish.”
Gisella faced him, watching him as he spoke, realizing she rather liked the shape of his lips. They were full, warm, and wonderful. She remembered quite well the kisses they had deposited on her hands and that fluid, giddy feeling began to fill her again as she thought of what might lie ahead for the night. A bed, two newly married people, and nothing to interrupt them.
“Thank you,” she said. Then, somewhat hesitantly, she spoke again. “Do you wish to know why I slapped Sir Thomas tonight? We are alone now and I will tell you. I simply did not want to tell you back at the Tower with everyone listening.”
Bastian’s gaze was steady upon her. “It does not matter why you slapped him, in truth,” he said. “What matters is that he hit you in full view of me. That cannot and will not go unanswered. When I return, you may tell me the whole story behind it.”
A warning went off in Gisella’s head. Certainly, she expected Bastian to punish the young lord but the tone in his voice, and given his reputation, she wondered if punishment would be something terribly big, indeed.
“Will you please tell me what you intend to do?” she asked softly.
Bastian turned for the door. “There is no need,” he said, pausing with his hand on the latch. “Do you require a physician to look at your jaw?”
Gisella shook her head. “Nay,” she replied. “I hardly feel it.”
He smiled faintly at her bravery. “Then I shall return.”
With that, Bastian quit the chamber, shutting the door softly behind him and leaving his wife, more than likely, puzzled by his response. But that didn’t matter at the moment. He was more concerned with how to answer de la Pole. It had been weighing heavily on his mind since it happened and there was no doubt he would do something about it. In earnest, he went to seek out his knights.
Going downstairs, he peered into the reception room to see his father and young Henry still seated by the fire, speaking in soft tones. Or, at least his father was speaking in soft tones. He very much wanted his father to be in on the conversation about de la Pole, so he fetched Collins and a young page who had been asleep against the wall in the kitchen and brought them both outto the reception room to sit with Henry whilst he commandeered his father.
The king was rather fearful to be left with two people he didn’t know but the page, a chatty young lad from a good family, immediately engaged the king in conversation and began drawing in the ashes on the hearth, encouraging Henry to do it, too. The last Bastian saw, Henry was using a kindling stick to draw in the ashes alongside a boy he had just met. He seemed to be at least curious about it. Satisfied, Bastian pulled his weary father with him as he went in search of the other knights.
Not surprisingly, he found them in the kitchen because Gannon hadn’t eaten since earlier in the day so they were all gathering in the kitchen, eating a late meal and speaking quietly. Soft laughter peppered the conversation. Even more surprisingly, Lucas was in the same room as Martin although they were on opposite ends. Everyone seemed to be getting along as Bastian and Braxton entered.
“Something to eat, Bas?” Brant said as Bastian came to stand next to him. “The cook made chicken pie tonight. You missed a wonderful dish.”
Bastian shook his head. “Trust me when I say I have had my fill of food for the evening.”
“How was it at the king’s table tonight?” Martin asked. “Was Gloucester there?”
Bastian nodded. “He was,” he replied. “In fact, I am glad to find you all together. There is something I must speak to you about that happened tonight during the feast.”
Brant was pulling up a stool for his Uncle Braxton to sit on. “I do not like the sound of your voice,” he said as Braxton lowered himself onto the seat. “I have heard that before. It is an unhappy tone.”
“Unhappy, indeed,” Bastian agreed. “We may have trouble with Suffolk.”
“Why?” Brant wanted to know. “What has happened?”
Bastian sighed heavily, thinking on where to start. But there was only one place to truly start. “Suffolk’s younger brother, Thomas de la Pole, has somehow become part of young Henry’s entourage,” he said. “When I first arrived at the Tower, he was rather confrontational with me. It was evident that he was threatened by my new title and duties, keeping me so close to the king. However, a young lord with an overblown sense of entitlement does not bother me. They are not worth my attention. But de la Pole crossed the line this evening. When I was off speaking to Gloucester, he punched my wife in the jaw, hard enough that it sent her falling to the floor. She could have been seriously hurt. I do not know the reasons behind de la Pole’s strike but it does not matter. No man will strike my wife and not suffer the consequences. Therefore, I am going after Thomas de la Pole and Suffolk might not like the fact that I will punish his brother for his offense against my wife.”
By the time he was finished, there were five pairs of outraged eyes looking at him. Braxton, sitting beside his son, lifted a hand and grasped the man’s wrist.
