Page 346 of Historical Hotties
Bastian leaned against the doorjamb. “I have assigned your brother to watch over her,” he said. “I believe they spent yesterday walking all over the grounds. I think they even wentdown to the river. She is not alone if that is your concern. She is well taken care of.”
A hint of a smile flickered on Gisella’s lips. “Then I fear you have played into her hands,” she said. “Sparrow thought my brother to be quite handsome. You have done exactly what she wished.”
Bastian shrugged lazily. “I do not believe Gannon has any complaints.”
Gisella cast him a glance. “I have not seen my brother in almost two years,” she said. “He does not have a lady he is fond of, does he? I do not want Sparrow to find herself in the middle of a tense situation.”
Bastian shook his head. “Gannon does not but de Lara has,” he replied. “You need not worry about your brother. Many a maid has tried but no one has yet captured him.”
He said it with some humor and Gisella smiled at the mental image of her brother escaping clever women. “Is de Lara married, then?”
Again, Bastian shook his head. “Nay, he is not,” he replied, “but I would not be surprised if he marries the woman when we return to France. She is the daughter of the Lord Mayor of Rouen.”
A maid bustled into the room and went to Gisella, who stood up from the dressing stool so the woman could fasten the stays on the back of her dress. Gisella ignored the woman for the most part, her thoughts lingering on Bastian’s most recent statement.
“Then your stay in England is temporary,” she clarified.
Bastian’s gaze was drawn to the lovely damask gown and Gisella’s very small waist as the maid fixed the stays. He thought he might have detected some disappointment or concern in her question.
“Everything I do is temporary,” he said. “I go where Bedford and Gloucester wish for me to go. Today, it is London but tomorrow it could be back to France.”
Gisella didn’t like that suggestion but she tried not to sound too demanding or upset about it. “Would I go with you?” she asked.
Bastian’s gaze lingered on her. “Probably not,” he said quietly. “I would be returning to battle and that is no place for you. Surely you would be happier, and safer, here at home, with your family or even here at West Court.”
Gisella looked around the chamber. “It is very nice here at West Court,” she said. “But it would be sad for you to leave just when we are coming to know one another.”
Bastian felt a flush of giddiness, something that was unusual for him. He wasn’t the giddy sort. But her words filled him with something like hope, or delight, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was that her words made him feel wanted. He had no idea how to express the fact that he felt the same way and, even if he knew the correct words, he would have been deeply embarrassed to speak them in front of the maid. He wasn’t a man accustomed to speaking of his emotions.
Therefore, he kept silent on the matter as he pushed himself off the doorjamb and made his way over to his saddlebags, which were stacked against the wall near the hearth. He picked them up, tossed them onto the bed, and began pulling items out.
“I will have to have these tunics mended before we leave for London,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at his wife. “If you do not have time to sew them, I will have the maids do it. I could probably use a few new tunics as well. Everything I have is years old, torn, and essentially ruined. I do not suppose I should go to court looking like a beggar.”
Gisella wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he hadn’t responded to her comment about him leaving just as they were comingto know one another. He changed the subject completely. His lack of a reaction had her saddened, but it also had her angry at herself for speaking so quickly on something that could be construed as emotional. It made her sound clinging and silly. Obviously, the man didn’t feel the way she did and it hurt her heart somewhat to know that. She had hoped the warmth she had experienced from him hadn’t been imagined but evidently, it was.
“I can mend your clothing,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the disappointment in her tone. “I can also make you a new tunic if I can secure the fabric. Mayhap your aunts have some that I can use. I will ask them.”
Bastian shook his head and moved away from the bed, heading out of the chamber. “I will ask them,” he said. “Continue dressing at your leisure. I will return shortly and escort you to the morning meal.”
Gisella simply nodded, watching the man as he quit the chamber and disappeared down the corridor. Was he moving faster than usual, she thought, anxious to get away from her? Nay, of course not. He wasn’t moving any faster than he normally did. It was her uncertainty that caused her to think such things. As she stood there and mulled over the situation, the maid finished with her dress and began helping her on with her hose and slippers. As the maid tied off one of her hose, a big, orange cat came sauntering into the room and jumped right up on the bed.
He was a bold one, this cat. The first thing he did was start nosing around in Bastian’s saddlebags and Gisella tried to shoo the animal away, but the cat ignored her. He stuck his head into Bastian’s saddlebags followed by his entire fat body until the only thing sticking out was his tail.
“That is Lady Beatrice’s cat, m’lady,” the maid said. “His name is Moggy.”
Gisella frowned as Moggy the cat pushed his way further into Bastian’s saddlebags. “You had better remove him,” she said. “I do not think my husband wants that nosy cat in his possessions.”
The maid stood up from her kneeling position next to Gisella’s legs and went to the cat, trying to gently remove him from the saddlebags. But Moggy was a very naughty boy and didn’t want to go. He rather liked the cold darkness of the saddlebags and the rotten smell they seemed to emit. As the maid pulled, he dug in with his claws, and it took the maid three tries to pull him free. With the third try, the cat abruptly came loose and the saddlebags tumbled to the floor and their contents with them. Gisella shrieked.
“Oh!” she cried as everything spilled onto the floor. Rushing over with only one shoe on, she knelt down and began grabbing items, putting them back into the bag. “God’s Bones, he is going to be furious when he sees all of his possessions on the ground. Foolish cat!”
The maid went halfway under the bed to pull out a comb that had flipped underneath the bed frame. As both women scrambled around on the floor collecting all of the dumped items, Bastian returned to the chamber.
“What goes on here?” he asked.
Gisella gasped, startled, as she turned around to face him. She was sitting on the floor, craning her neck back at the man who didn’t look particularly pleased to see what she was doing.
“The cat knocked your bags off the bed,” she told him quickly so he would not think she was rummaging through his possessions. “We were simply picking up your things.”
