Page 376 of Historical Hotties
“I am called Beast because I am a beast of a warrior,” he said. “It was a name that started very early in my life when I was a squire. I have the blood of seven legendary knights flowing through my veins, ancestors whom I honor– Bhrodi de Shera, William de Wolfe, Brandt de Russe, and Braxton de Nerra on my father’s side and Christopher de Lohr, Ajax de Velt, and Sean de Lara on my mother’s side. I am the result of generations of refined breeding, the perfect knight if you will, and that is why I am called Beast. There is no other like me in England. I am not called Beast because I am wicked. As for deflowering the Maid, I told you before that I was her jailor and nothing more. I never touched the woman in a manner that ran contrary to my duties or my authority.”
Gisella nodded solemnly. “I believe you,” she said. “But I could not let Sir Thomas shout such terrible things about you. The king was there– he heard everything and I’m sure many other people did as well. Bastian, I know I should not have struck Sir Thomas but he infuriated me. I could not let him say such things about a man who does not deserve it.”
A smile spread across his lips as he gazed into her lovely face. “I have never had someone defend me so staunchly before,” he said. “You cannot know how deeply your concern touches me.”
She smiled in spite of herself, because he was. It was hard not to look into that handsome face and not smile in return.
“I have spent the past two years in Lady Gloucester’s court,” she said. “I have seen gossip ruin men’s lives. I do not wish to see that happen to you.”
He reached out and took her soft hand in his, her delicate white fingers dwarfed by his big ones. “And it shall not with you as my protector,” he said. “You have my thanks.”
Gisella could feel the warmth from his hand, traveling up her arm, filling her body with fluid delight. She looked at his hand as it held hers, watching as he gently caressed her fingers.
“May… may I ask you a question?” she asked.
“You may always ask me any question you wish. I will answer you truthfully.”
She was having a difficult time concentrating with his fingers fondling her hand so sweetly. “Will you please tell me what the Maid was like?” she asked. “We have all heard so much about her and how she was a madwoman who professed that God spoke to her. But she was just a girl, wasn’t she? What was she like?”
Bastian pondered her question for a moment. “Aye, she was a girl, like any other,” he said. “But I have never seen one so young be so passionate about something. She was deeply passionate about her people. And she was quite intelligent given the fact that she had never had any education. There was also a wisdom about her that was difficult to describe.”
Gisella listened attentively. “Do you believe that God spoke to her?”
He smiled, ironically. “Henry asked me nearly the same thing,” he said. “Do I believe that God spoke to the Maid? If He did not, then she accomplished some fairly amazing feats on her own. I never saw Him speak to her so I cannot say for certain, but I believe her faith was stronger than any I have ever seen. If that means that God spoke to her, then mayhap He did.”
Gisella thought of the young woman who had moved an entire country. “She was young, wasn’t she?”
He nodded. “Around nineteen years of age.”
Gisella lifted her eyebrows in realization. “She was a year older than I am,” she said. “That seems strange to have done so much with her life in so short a span.”
“Indeed,” Bastian agreed. “She was quite driven.”
Gisella mulled over the young woman and the saints who propelled her. But she was also thinking about Thomas de la Pole and his slander against Bastian regarding the Maid. Bastian was still playing with the fingers of her right hand and she slipped her left hand in as well, squeezing his big fingers.
“What are you going to do about Sir Thomas?” she asked softly. “I cannot imagine his actions will go unpunished. Is that what you went to speak with your knights about? Punishing him?”
Bastian looked at her, the way the firelight played off her lovely features. She was such a gorgeous creature and he could see that the red welt on her jaw was turning blue as a bruise began to form. The fury in his heart resumed with a vengeance.
“Aye,” he said honestly. “If Suffolk does not turn the man over to me for punishment, then I will take him by force.”
Gisella’s features tightened with fear. “What does that mean?”
Bastian met her gaze steadily. “It means I will hunt the man down and when I find him, I will do whatever is necessary to extract him and take him into my custody,” he said. “We think he might be at Wallingford Castle. Gloucester said he would mediate the situation with Suffolk but I will not wait, at least not overly. Every second I delay is a second that might provide de la Pole with the opportunity to flee the country.”
Gisella felt rather sickened by all of it. “You would go to war with Suffolk?”
Bastian kissed her hand and released it, standing up from the chair. “I would do what is necessary to punish de la Pole for striking you.”
Gisella sighed miserably. “But I struck him first.”
Bastian moved the chair back to its position next to the hearth. “Even so, that gave him no right to strike you in return,” he said. “The man struck my wife and he will pay.”
Gisella didn’t know what to say to all of that. Bastian came over to where she sat on the bed, taking the garments she was still holding off of her lap and laying them across the eating table.
“Come along,” he said. “I have not slept on a decent bed in months and wish to go to bed now. You will come, too.”
Gisella obediently stood up from the bed and went to the capcase that held her finer shifts and sleeping things, all the while her mind lingering on the war that was about to take place because of her. She thought perhaps to write her father so that he could intervene, but she discounted that idea because she knew her father would approve of what Bastian was doing. Moreover, he might even want to ride to battle with him and at her father’s age, the thought was terrifying. A sixty-nine-year-old man in battle was not something she wanted to see and she hoped that Gannon hadn’t been foolish enough to send word to her father of the situation, either. The mere idea was horrifying.
