Page 354 of Historical Hotties
Braidwood sat downstreamfrom the Tower of London, a vast property that had belonged to the de Russe family since it had been built almost four hundred years before. The house was three stories, with the third story being a half-story with a pitched roof, and most of the house was covered with spider fern vines that swallowed up the Kent rag-stone that comprised the structure.
Designed in a “U” shape, there was a large courtyard in the center of the structure and tall curtain walls surrounding it. All of the curtain walls had been swallowed up by the same spider ferns, vines that had big thorns to deter anyone foolish enough to try and scale the walls. The de Russe family was very fond of thorny vines surrounding their homes as evidenced now by two de Russe properties she had seen.
Braidwood had river frontage with a small private road that ran in front of it, along the river, and Gisella was back to being fascinated by her surroundings now that the fright from the recent outlaw attack had subsided. She tried not to think aboutBastian cutting the outlaw’s head off, as it had been a sharp and vicious action, but she knew he had done it to save their lives. He was a man unafraid to initiate a fight. It was the first time she’d actually seen the Beast in action and she was both impressed and somewhat frightened by it. Now, the stories she had heard about the man and his skills were starting to make some sense. The reality was awesome to behold.
The big, iron gates of Braidwood opened up and invited Bastian and his party into the courtyard beyond. There was a big, circular drive with a fishpond in the center and on either side of the drive were carefully manicured gardens that had carved stone benches so one could sit and enjoy the flowers. It was quite lovely and showed evidence of a woman’s touch, Gisella thought. Someone had gone to great trouble to make the gardens beautiful.
As they moved towards the front of the house, Gisella could see that there was a separate kitchen built over against the wall near the east side of the “U” shape and an enclosed kitchen yard next to it. The stables were also located on that side, downwind and downstream from the house, and they could already see Lucas near the stables with one of the grooms, tending to the rump of his steed.
There were grooms and servants waiting for them as they came to a halt in front of the entry. Bastian dismounted the white stallion, slapped it on the neck affectionately, and went to the carriage to assist his wife. He held her hand in a genteel manner as she stepped out onto the carriage step, a big stone that was used for those when disembarking carriages or even dismounting horses. He continued to hold her hand as she came down off the stone, looking around the complex with great interest. Behind her, Gannon had come to help Sparrow down from the carriage. Sparrow beamed at him while he pretended not to notice.
“What a magnificent townhome, Bastian,” Gisella said. “I did not imagine it quite so large.”
Bastian looked around the grounds of a home that was probably more of a true home to him than any other he had ever lived in. He felt comforted here.
“It reminds me a lot of my mother,” he said. “This was her favorite house. We spent a lot of time here when I was young. This was a good, safe home for children to grow up in.”
Gisella took his elbow as he began to lead her down the neat pebble path towards the front entry of the home. “Are you an only child?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I have two younger sisters, Theodora and Elizabetta” he said. “Theodora is a nun and Elizabetta married three or four years ago. She and her husband live in London, as her husband is a commander for the Tower Guard.”
Gisella listened with interest. “I see,” she said. “Will we be meeting your sister and her husband while we are here?”
He nodded. “More than likely,” he said. “She had a daughter a couple of years ago. I have a niece I’ve not yet seen named after my mother, Aderyn.”
Gisella looked up at him, smiling. “That is a lovely name,” she said. Then, her smile faded. “Would it be too presumptuous of me to ask what happened to your mother?”
He shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “She died of a cancer in her belly about ten years ago. I am sorry she never got to meet you. She would have liked you a great deal.”
Gisella was back to smiling again. “I hope so,” she said. “I am sorry that I will not get to know her but I hope you will tell me about her if it not too difficult a subject.”
“It is not,” Bastian replied. Then, he eyed her. “Speaking of difficult subjects, you mentioned that Gloucester gave you the white stallion. Was it from both him and Lady Gloucester? He is your uncle, after all. The horse was not a family gift?”
Gisella was watching her feet as they moved along the rocky path towards the front entry. She wasn’t surprised by the change in subject. In fact, she had been expecting it at some point.
“Nay,” she said. “It was only from him. But I was not allowed to tell anyone who gave the horse to me. He told me if I did, he would deny it.”
“Why?”
She shrugged uncomfortably. “Gloucester has been attentive to me since I arrived in Lady Gloucester’s household,” she said. “He never actually molested me, but it was more the way he looked at me or would, mayhap, ‘accidentally’ brush my arm. He was always trying to touch me somehow– my arm, my back, or my hand. He would make comments, too, about the way a dress fit me or how soft my skin seemed. It made me horribly uncomfortable and I tried my best to discourage him, but he would not stop. Then came the gifts– the perfume, the jewels, and the white stallion. The horse came a couple of months ago and with it came a horrible note written in his hand– it said that he hoped I would ride the horse the way he wished I would ride him. I was so angry when I read it that I burned it.”
Bastian came to a halt just as they reached the entry. Gisella looked up at him to see that he seemed rather deep in thought. His gaze upon her was intense.
“But he is your uncle,” he said, revulsion in his tone. “He is your mother’s half-brother.”
She nodded solemnly. “I know,” she said softly. “But it does not matter to him.”
Bastian’s jaw flexed. “Did he tell you not to tell anyone about his gifts or overtures?” he asked. “Not just about the horse?”
Gisella nodded. “He told me to keep all of his gifts a secret,” she said. “Sparrow knows, of course, but I thought I had better tell you since you are now my husband. If his inappropriateadvances continue… in any case, I thought you should be informed.”
Bastian sighed, mulling over what she had told him. His first reaction was one of disgust, then of rage, but he kept it well hidden. It wasn’t Gisella’s fault that Gloucester had a wandering eye but he seriously wondered if it would cause problems in the future. If he were to discover that Gloucester continued making overtures to Gisella after the marriage, then Bastian would have to confront the man for pride’s sake. It could get quite ugly. He already knew he would fight for her, and he would win. Even against Gloucester.
“Yet he pledged you to me,” he said thoughtfully. “Does he truly believe I will not object to his behavior?”
It was more a question to himself. Gisella watched Bastian’s expression. It was obvious there was a good deal on his mind and that the entire circumstance was quite upsetting. She put her hand on his arm, gently.
“Are you angry with me for telling you?” she asked. “As I said, you are my husband and I believe you should be aware. It would not be right to keep this information from you.”
