Page 368 of Historical Hotties
Fury surged through Gisella, an unusual state for her. She was usually quite controlled but as the young lord slandered Bastian, she found she had no control whatsoever. It was astruggle not to fly across the table at him, something, she suspected, which would not be well-met by either her husband or the impressionable young king.Stay calm!She told herself.
“Evil is a man who pays to abuse young boys,” she hissed. “Evil is a man who steals from the Duchess of Gloucester and sells objects that do not belong to him. How many other lords have you stolen from and how many lords have unknowingly paid for your unnatural lust against children? You call my husband evil simply to divert the attention off of you but if you say another word about him, I swear that you will not like my reaction.”
Thomas sneered. “What could you possibly do, worthless chit?” he said. “Doesn’t it bother you to know that the same man who will father your children has given himself body and soul to the witch who called herself the Maid? She was not a Maid at all. She was de Russe’s whore!”
Before Gisella could stop herself, she bolted to her feet and slapped Thomas as hard as she could across the face. Startled, the man tipped sideways, hand to his cheek, before righting himself. Gisella saw the fist flying at her and she tried to move clear but she didn’t quite make it. Thomas’ fist clipped her on the chin and she tumbled backwards, off the dais and onto the floor. But it didn’t stop her. Aching chin and all, she scrambled to her feet and was preparing to launch herself after Thomas when a big body suddenly blew past her. Realizing it was Bastian, she grabbed on to his leg because she was still on her knees.
“Bastian, no!” she cried softly, trying to be somewhat discreet about it because she didn’t want her screaming to draw any more attention than the situation already had. “Not in front of the king!”
Bastian had to come to a halt because Gisella was hanging on his leg. He had little choice at that point. But his deadly gaze was on Sir Thomas as a few of his friends began dragging him awayfrom the table, shoving at the man, running from the hall before the Beast could catch them and kill them all.
Bastian watched them run, disappearing from the hall just as Gisella pulled herself to her feet. His attention then shifted to his wife and he grasped her by the arms, his expression shifting from one of deadly intent to that of a concerned husband.
“Are you injured?” he demanded softly. “Did he hurt you?”
Gisella shook her head even though there was a red welt on the left side of her jaw. “He did not hurt me,” she insisted, mostly because she was trying to calm the man. “I am well enough.”
Bastian opened his mouth to speak but Henry appeared beside them, his young face full of concern as he looked at Gisella.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked earnestly. “Why did he hit you?”
Bastian wanted to know the reason as well so he looked at Gisella, expecting an answer. As Gisella was trying to think on something that would be believable, for she surely didn’t want to tell the truth, Gloucester joined their little group, looking at her with the same concern that Bastian and Henry were exhibiting.
“God’s Bones,” Gloucester exclaimed. “What would cause that idiot to hit you the way he did?”
Bastian still had Gisella in his grasp as he turned to Gloucester. “I want him banned from court,” he told him in a tone that dared not be disobeyed, “and I want him brought to me for justice.”
Gloucester could see how enraged Bastian was, which frankly surprised him. Rage like that was usually fed by emotion, of which Bastian evidently had a lot of where it pertained to his wife. Gloucester agreed because he was afraid of what Bastian would do if he did not.
“I will ban him from court, of course,” he said. “His actions against your wife and my niece are inexcusable. But you will letme handle the situation and deal with Suffolk. You are not to confront or contact the man.”
Bastian looked at him. “I said that I want de la Pole brought to me for justice.”
Gloucester tried not to let Bastian’s anger intimidate him. “I will find him,” he assured him. “But we must find out what caused his reaction. It does not excuse it but for Suffolk’s sake, we owe his brother that courtesy.”
Bastian’s jaw flexed angrily. “I owe him nothing except my sword to his belly,” he snarled. “The man struck my wife. He will pay. If Suffolk does not produce him, then I will track his brother down and do what I must to get to him.”
Gloucester sighed faintly, knowing that Bastian meant every word. He would tear down half of England to find the man who had wronged his wife because that was how Bastian thought. That kind of thinking had served them well in France, but now that he was home and in a different environment, they needed to be more careful and tactful about such things.
“Bastian,” he said quietly. “Let me mediate this. I cannot have my warlords attacking one other.”
Bastian didn’t say anything. He was too angry to carry on a rational conversation and his level of rage surprised him as well. He had nothing short of murder on his mind and surely would have killed Thomas had Gisella not intervened. Struggling to calm his fury, he focused on his wife.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice considerably softer. “Why did you strike him?”
Gisella met his gaze, trying to phrase her response carefully. “He was extremely offensive,” she said. “We will speak of it in private, please. At the moment, I am sure you are famished so let us return to our meal and forget this nonsense.”
Bastian wanted to force her to tell him why, exactly, she had hit the young lord, but he refrained. It must have been ratherpersonal and rather sordid if she did not wish to speak of it in public, so without another word, he escorted her and Henry back to the table, helping the king to sit before he helped his wife.
As Gloucester took a seat on Henry’s left, Bastian regained his seat between Henry and Gisella. He was still on-edge over his conversation with Gloucester and then the subsequent event with Gisella, so he labored to calm his nerves and his mind. But he would not forget de la Pole’s offense against Gisella. As far as he was concerned, the man would pay and pay dearly no matter what Gloucester said. No man would strike the Beast’s wife and get away with it.
The feast passed rather slowly from that point on. Bastian, brooding, spent his time watching the room and making small talk with his wife, who was sporting a lovely bruise on her chin now. Every time Bastian saw the mark, it enraged him a little more until by the time they were ready to depart, he’d built up a substantial burn. He’d also made plans for de la Pole’s demise without even knowing the reasons behind his actions. As far as Bastian was concerned, it didn’t matter. De la Pole was a dead man and if Gloucester tried to stop him, then he would feel the Beast’s wrath, too.
The de Russe war machine would soon be called forth.
*
The Bird and Bucket Tavern
