Page 355 of Historical Hotties
He shook his head, patting her hand gently. “Nay, I am not angry with you,” he said, his voice soft with emotion. “I am very glad that you feel compelled to be truthful with me.”
He went from patting her hand to holding it. Gisella couldn’t help but notice he was squeezing her hand now, gently. It was the most thrilling thing she’d ever experienced in her entire life. Her heart began to thump madly against her ribs.
“What do you intend to do about it?” she asked, rather anxiously.
Bastian noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Gannon and Sparrow were approaching. He didn’t want them to hear a private conversation so he smiled weakly and lifted Gisella’s hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly.
“I intend to ride the white stallion in front of him every chance I get,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Since he told you not to tell anyone who gave it to you, surely he will not contest me when I tell him that you gave me the horse as a gift because you did not want it. That will make him angry, don’t you think?”
Gisella burst out giggling. “Furious!”
Bastian kissed her hand again as Gannon and Sparrow joined them. Without another word about the white stallion or Gloucester, Bastian escorted his wife into the entry hall of Braidwood.
Footmen were at the door, standing at attention as Bastian and the others entered the two-storied entry hall with the polished slate floor. The room was quite grand, as was the beautiful staircase that elevated into the upper floor. Everything was quite rich with dark wood and elegant furnishing. As Bastian directed the footmen to make sure their baggage was brought in, a small man in a fine tunic and hose approached Bastian and bowed deeply. Skinny, with long white hair, the old man seemed quite pleased to see Bastian.
“Master Bastian,” the servant said. “These old walls are not the same without you. Now that you are here, this house will start to live again.”
Bastian grinned at the old man. “Collins,” he said with pleasure. “It has been a very long time. How have you been?”
Collins was touched by the question. “Well enough, young master,” he said. “We had been told you had returned from France. We are so proud of you and what you have done for young Henry.”
Bastian put a big hand on the old man’s slender shoulders. “What I have done for Bedford, you mean,” he said, jesting. “But I thank you for your kind words. I will be in London now for some time overseeing the young king but I will set up housekeeping at Braidwood. In fact, allow me to introduce youto my wife, Lady Gisella. She will give the orders in the house from now on.”
The old man looked at Gisella with surprise and awe. He bowed deeply. “My lady,” he said. “Welcome to Braidwood. We did not know Sir Bastian took a wife.”
Bastian still had his hand on the old servant’s shoulder. “That is because it only just happened,” he said, looking to Gisella. “Collins has been at Braidwood since before I was born and he watched me grow up. He still remembers that naughty young lad who liked to steal cheese from the kitchen and used to run through the house with packs of dogs.”
That explained why the servant had called him “Master Bastian”. He still remembered that little boy and it was clearly a term of affection. Gisella grinned as she looked at the elderly servant.
“Was he a terrible child, then?” she asked, jesting. “You can tell me. I want to know just how naughty he was.”
The old man grinned. “He was a good lad truly, my lady,” he said. “Although one time, he did bring a goat into the house and it ate Lady Aderyn’s sewing. Even ate the needles. She made Master Bastian… well, she made him….”
He couldn’t finish the story and Bastian finished for him. “My mother made me sift through all of the goat droppings looking for her needles,” he said. “Do you have any idea how difficult that was?”
Gisella put a hand over her mouth, discreetly giggling. “You deserved all that and more,” she told him, returning her attention to Collins. “Thank you for telling me. I hope you have many more stories to tell me.”
The old man wasn’t sure what to say so Bastian grasped his wife by the elbow and pulled her away. “He will do no such thing,” he said. “I want you to think I am a remarkable human being with no flaws. Is that too much to ask?”
Gisella laughed at him but her laughter was cut short when she got a look at the room he pulled her into. A lavishly furnished reception room was before her, remarkably done with leather-cushioned chairs, a massive polished table with pewter candlesticks on it, and a spectacular scene carved into an entire wall. As Sparrow and Gannon lingered in the doorway, pretending to ignore one another, Gisella and Bastian entered Braidwood’s magnificent receiving room.
Mouth agape at the gloriousness of the chamber before her, Gisella let go of Bastian and made her way to the wall with the floor to ceiling scene carved into it. It was utterly spectacular with figures below that seemed to be shielding themselves or cowering from angelic-like figures above. Bastian walked up behind her.
“It is Lucifer’s fall from grace,” he told her. “My mother had it commissioned and fine Savoyard artists took almost a year to create it. My mother said she wanted it to remind her that all things are finite and that we must always be humble and pious.”
Gisella tore her gaze away from the magnificent piece and looked up at him. “Did you take her advice?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “I have tried,” he said softly. “Mayhap… mayhap someday I will tell you what I intend to do in order to be truly pious.”
“I would like to hear it.”
His gaze moved back to the artwork, thoughts of the Maid coming to mind as he gazed upon the scene from Heaven.Winchester Cathedral before Michaelmas. It was what he intended to do in order to be truly pious and in order to put to rest the soul of a woman who had known nothing but turmoil in life. No rest, no joy, only sorrow.
Glancing at Gisella’s beautiful face, he realized that he wanted to tell her his deepest, darkest secrets, even the one involving the Maid. Already, he was starting to feel that level ofcomfort with her. The only person he felt that level of comfort with was his father, a man he knew he could trust, and now there was Gisella. Someday, when the timing was right, perhaps he would tell her everything, but he also had the great concern that telling her of his mission for the Maid might put her in jeopardy as well.Tell no one, his father had told him. Perhaps his father was correct. He certainly didn’t want to put Gisella in danger with what he had done.
“Mayhap,” he said again, softly.
Gisella smiled at him before turning her attention back to the wall of artwork. Bastian’s attention lingered on her, studying her exquisite profile, the curve of her pert little nose and the way her long lashes brushed against her brow bone. Gloucester and the Maid rolled over in his mind as he watched her but he pushed those thoughts from his mind because there was no point in debating about either one, at least not at this point. He moved away from the artwork.
