Beauty's Curse

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Accolades for

  BEAUTY’S CURSE by Traci E. Hall

  “Beauty’s Curse is a delightful story that charms and entertains while teaching a moral about all that is truly important in life!”

  –Heather Graham, New York Times Bestselling Author

  DEDICATION:

  For Greg, as always!

  Published 2009 by Medallion Press, Inc.

  The MEDALLION PRESS LOGO is a registered trademark of Medallion Press, Inc.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment from this “stripped book.”

  Copyright © 2009 Traci E. Hall

  Cover Design by Adam Mock

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Typeset in Adobe Garamond Pro

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-193475500-6

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  First Edition

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:

  This book couldn’t have been written without Greg, Sheryl, Paul, Olga and the tiki bar. As usual, I need to thank Brighton and Destini for raising themselves while I write, and even bringing me Diet Cokes. My Babes! Thanks for helping me sort out plots, and Kerry, who listened when I whined. Trena, thanks for the last minute reads. It’s been a tough two years, and I appreciate everyone for their generous and loving support. I am blessed!

  Mushy stuff aside, I’d be nowhere without the internet. Research for this project has been immense. Wikipedia.com has been a great resource, as has catholicsaints.com, brittania.com, berkshirehistory com and many others – thank you! Research books – King John, by W.L. Warren, Life in a Medieval Castle, Life in a Medieval Village, both by Frances and Joseph Gies. The Medieval Castle, by Philip Warner. The Medieval Warrior by Paul LaCroix, and Walter Clifford Meller.

  This is a work of FICTION, although I’ve tried to stay true to historical facts. All mistakes are my own.

  Chapter One

  Montehue Manor

  February 1193

  “It’s beautiful,” Galiana Montehue whispered as she ran out into the winter-dead flower garden. The English countryside was blanketed in pure white; a new beginning. She stretched out her arms, twirling like a sprite, as the soft flakes of snow melted on her nose and cheeks. Air plumed from her mouth as she laughed aloud, spinning round until she was so dizzy she fell back into a drift of snow as soft as her feather mattress.

  “Bless Mother, Father, Gram, and Ela. God speed them on their journey,” she said, sticking her tongue out to catch the big, fluffy flakes as they fell from the gray sky. “Celestia and Nicholas, too, and the babe.” For the tiniest of seconds, she regretted not being at her sister’s side for the birth of her first child.

  She’d sent a basket of Tia’s favorite lotions and some cream for the baby’s skin, but Galiana hadn’t wanted to go. Nay, she’d bartered for the chance to stay home and be the lady of the manor. Laughing again at the absurdity of it, her parents had not only agreed to let her take on the chore of running the household, but they’d added her twin brothers to her list of responsibilities. Of course, they’d also left eight seasoned Montehue knights, Bailiff Morton, and the live-in manor staff. They trusted her and weren’t treating her like she was just a pretty face. And it had snowed the first snow of the year on the first morn after they were gone.

  She sighed happily, thinking this to be an auspicious start to the day, as if the angels had come overnight and frosted the bare tree branches with crystals. She should paint it, she thought, sketching the scene in her mind.

  Just last week she’d lit twenty scented candles to Saint Jude, who she’d adopted as her own since he championed hopeless causes, so that the path to a grand adventure would be made clear to her. “This has to mean something,” she told the clouds above her.

  “Talking to yourself again, Gali?” The voice that asked held a slight squeak that made her smile. A masculine voice, on the verge of becoming a man’s.

  “Ye’ve gone insane. One too many sliced cucumbers to the eye,” a similar voice teased.

  “Your gown is soaked. Come in before you catch your death,” Ned, the older twin by five minutes, instructed as if his sister had truly gone around the bend.

  “Have you been in the cherry wine?”

  “With Gram and Ela both away, if you sicken, it will be old Dame Bertha to see to your compresses. She makes them too hot, and they burn. Come in. The hall is warm, and cook’s made porridge with honey.” Ed’s tone was much more coaxing, and Galiana knew without looking at them that they would be standing, mirrored opposites, arms crossed in front of their chests like the men they would grow to be.

  Just twelve, they were not men yet, although they would be soon enough, and Galiana felt the sudden urge to stop time. Squires for their brother-in-law, Nicholas Le Blanc, the twins had come home for the Christmas season. They had been underfoot for all of five days before Mother had one of her intuitions and the family was off across England to Celestia’s aid. Poor Celestia.

  “Were you two scoundrels following me?” Tilting her chin to the right, she glanced down her nose at them, even though she was lying back and they were standing over her. She’d practiced that look enough to know it had power.

  Ned, a lock of blond hair falling over one blue eye, dropped his crossed arms to his sides. “Scoundrels? If Nicholas would permit us, we’d be off on crusade.”

  Ed, not to be outdone, lifted one arm high in the air. “For King Richard!”

  Realizing her morning of joyous fantasy was shattered, Galiana struggled to her feet. Ned pulled her up and immediately dropped her hand. “Ye’re soaked through,” he said with a chastising shake of his head. “And chilled.”

  “What would Mam say?” Ed raised one blond brow.

  Until now, she hadn’t noticed the cold. “When did you two monkeys become so bossy? Hmm? Mother is not here, I will not sicken, and you could not go on crusade if Nicholas made you both knights tomorrow. King Richard has been captured by the German Emperor, and he’s being held for ransom.”

  Ned’s brows drew together, and he asked, “For certes? He is not dead, then? Father never believed it.”

  Galiana nodded. “Father Jonah just told me last night. If you two wouldn’t have run off after evening prayers, you would have heard the whole story.” Not that she could blame them. The older Father Jonah got, the less he seemed to remember. A simple sermon could take a very long time.

  “We had to work on our shields,” Ned said.

  “I knew that sodding minstrel was lying!”

  “Edward,” Galiana ga
sped. “That is no way to speak.” She turned, hiding an indulgent smile. “Even if it is true.” The minstrel Eiredale was as infamous for his stories as he was for his singing. Desperate for entertainment, Galiana and her family ignored the fact that the bard was firmly in Prince John’s pocket—and that he couldn’t sing.

  “My apologies,” Ed said with a mock courtly bow.

  “Is no one serious in this family?” Ned complained.

  “At least you, Galiana, should understand the importance of this situation. If King Richard is being held for ransom, then surely the Old Queen Eleanor will pay it, and our king will finally come home. ’Tis better than going on crusade. We could be squires at court.”

  “Are ye calling me an imbecile? I knew that was important,” Ed glared at his twin, with mutiny in his green eyes.

  “I never called ye stupid, but if you feel that way …” Ned curled his fists.

  “No fighting. Just because I’m in charge doesn’t mean that you can get into trouble.” Galiana held out her hand, absently watching a snowflake melt on her palm. “Has Bailiff Morton given you your chores yet today? Father said the stables will need cleaning and you both are to help. He doesn’t want you getting lazy,” she said with a straight face. The truth was, the twins had more energy than a litter of puppies, and shoveling out stalls was a good way to keep them from burning down the barn. Again.

  “I still think Father should have left us in charge,” Ned lifted his chin, as Galiana had done. “Look at you, out worrying in the snow. You are just a woman.”

  “Just a woman?” Galiana glared at her brother. “Have you been away so long that you don’t remember I can thrash you?” She took a step so she was eye to eye with him. Another inch, and he’d be taller than she, Galiana realized with a pang.

  “I was a lad. Besides, I let you win,” Ned grinned fiendishly.

  “Oh?” Galiana’s first reaction was dismay that her brothers could be so shallow. Just a woman? They’d spent the past year with Celestia and Nicholas, so where had they gotten such an idea? Her second was to argue some sense into Ned’s stubborn head. “You know perfectly well that in this family, women are not chattel. We are strong, warriors even.”

  Ed snickered, and it dawned on Galiana that she’d been teased. She bit her tongue instead of lashing them with it, since she’d been such an easy target. Brats.

  “You two have quite a talent for knowing when I’m brooding.” Most noble families sent their children away to be raised in other households; the girls went to the house of their betrothed, if it was possible. Her parents never saw the need, since their daughters could choose husbands for themselves. After Baron Peregrine’s betrayal, her father had petitioned King Richard, now his direct liege, and received a written dispensation honoring the Montehue’s unusual rights.

  Ned put his arm around her shoulders. “You worry too much, and usually about marriage.”

  “You should let me and Ned pick your husband.” Ed exchanged a devilish look with his twin.

  “No,” Galiana laughed. “I can imagine who you would choose, and it makes me shudder.”

  She’d been raised on stories of love, seeing her parents’ happy marriage and even Celestia had found wedded bliss. Was it any wonder there was a foolish part of her that wanted to feel love too? But she remained permanently disappointed.

  For reasons she didn’t understand, most men couldn’t see past her beauty. She could endure only so many bad poems regarding her bright eyes and porcelain skin without vomiting.

  Chivalry and courtly ideas were turning real men into girls.

  “You’re a grown woman now,” Ed pointed out, getting to the very heart of Galiana’s dilemma.

  “You’ll have to choose eventually. Or let Father; he would find you someone rich.” Ned rubbed his hands together.

  With her family’s new status, they required more knights. And more knights cost more money, and taxes kept getting higher. By marrying a wealthy man, she could be a help to her family instead of a burden. Her only asset was her face. She’d been trained to be the ultimate lady, and all “ladies” were good for was making a prosperous marriage. It was time. She knew it, as did her parents, though they were too loving to toss her out to the village streets.

  Like her mother, Galiana did not have any magical ability. Her grandmother, Evianne, had the gift, as did Celestia, and even Ela, the youngest at ten, could see auras.

  The only assets she had were her talent with perfumes, her skill at the lute, and white teeth. Which put her two steps above her father’s prized mare. “What would you say if I told you I did not want to grow up?”

  “It’s too late,” Ed laughed, and Ned slapped him on the back.

  “Aye, I know.” Unsettled, Galiana slowly danced in a circle around the garden, wondering if she would feel better putting her feelings to music. A snowflake drifted down, and then another. The hills in the distance were white and peaked like meringue. Which note would describe how the first winter snow covered the dreary past with a bright, unmarred finish? Maybe music was the wrong element. She stroked the air with an imaginary brush. She was a canvas unpainted. Or a stretch of linen unembroidered; an unwoven tapestry that, with the right care, would be discovered in all its glory come spring.

  “Galiana, stop daydreaming, and come inside. We’re freezing.” Ed spoke, but both boys rubbed their arms and stomped their feet.

  Pragmatic, Ned said, “I don’t understand why you are so upset. Ye’re a lady, and you can’t go back to being a child.”

  The first snow was hope. And her brothers were ruining it.

  “You’re right.” She bent down to scoop up a handful of snow with reddened, cold fingers. “I do not wish to spend my days in a convent. Nor do I wish to live with Aunt Nan in Wales. Nor to marry a complete boor.

  Why should those be my only choices?”

  “Lord Fendleton isn’t a boor; he’s got sheep.” Ed looked to Ned, who confirmed the information.

  She clasped the snow in her fist, watching it drip to the ground as she squeezed.

  “And if you wed Baron Von Linsing, you could be a baroness; you’re pretty enough for that. Right, Ned?”

  “Prettier even. I saw a painting of a baroness once, and she had five chins and loads of gold chains and giant jewels.”

  “To hold up the chins,” Ed said.

  Galiana giggled. It was difficult to be irritated at the twins when they were bent on being amusing. She shivered, thinking her heart was as cold as the snow around her. What did it matter who she married, if she didn’t care? “I don’t want to marry, but I will.”

  “Lots of girls marry people they don’t know.” Ned covered his face with his hands for warmth.

  “Our family is special.” And the family was special—except for her. Even her mother had strong intuition. “I need to go to court.”

  “Can we come?” Ed stopped slapping at his arms and tucked his hands underneath his armpits.

  “Father will never agree, for Mam doesn’t approve of court.”

  “Ned, if it is a chance to get me off of their hands, they might do it. I cannot live here until I die of old age.”

  “We better leave tomorrow then,” Ed joked.

  “Hey,” Galiana reached down and scooped up a handful of snow, then tossed it in Ed’s face. It immediately shut him up, and he looked comical with snowflakes stuck to his lashes. “Be nice.”

  “This is war, Gali,” Ed said, his green eyes bright.

  Ned, caught between childhood and maturity, just stood there. Galiana grabbed another wad of fluffy snow and got him, too.

  Then she ran as if the devil was after her.

  Laughing, they raced behind trees and hedges, and for once the twins were not on the same side. It was every man for himself. A good shot, Galiana gave much better than she got. She was going to pay for this with chapped lips and the sniffles, but it was worth it. A hot scented bath, and lavender lotion for her skin—a warm brandy—and she’d be as good as n
ew. Galiana was glad her mother was not here to stop the fun.

  She lobbed a snowball that got Ed in the center of his chest. He brushed the remnants of snow from his soaking tunic, and Galiana’s conscience urged her to go inside before they all ended up with the cough. Raising her hands, she laughed and said, “I surrender. Your hair looks brown; it’s so wet. Come, let’s go inside and have hot tea with honey.”

  “What happened to not wanting to grow up?” Ed demanded, his lips quivering.

  “If we don’t go in, none of us will,” Galiana teased.

  The boys exchanged one of their twin eye-contact messages, and the next thing she knew they’d each grabbed up a fistful of snow and yelled together, “Charge! For God and King Richard!”

  It took her a snowball to the nose to realize they meant a skirmish to the death. “I’m a lady,” she protested with a yelp.

  “You’re just our sister,” Ed shouted.

  Her frozen toes made it hard to run, but she did. Ed cut off her route to the kitchen door, so she had no choice but to head for the trees. The snow, which moments ago had been falling in lazy drifts, now came down with a vengeance. She brushed back escaping wet tendrils of hair, while her long braids smacked against her back like a stinging lash.

  Galiana pushed for the line of pine trees, glancing over her shoulder to see Ed facedown in the snow. Ned, laughing hysterically, was gaining on her.

  Each step was like running upstream, until she reached the canopy of fir trees. They provided a natural covering that kept the inside of the forest remarkably free of all but a dusting of snow. Pine needles cushioned her soaking toes, and the dye from her silk embroidered slippers left a rainbow colored trail.

  “Saint Jude, help me. Ned will find me for certes.” Pausing, she listened for the sound of Ned or Ed, but the area around her was eerily silent. Not even a squirrel chittered.

  She gulped, her breath coming faster and faster as she realized how dark the inside of the forest was. How had she come so far inside without realizing it? Charcoal gray light filtered through the branches, and every ghost story her sister Celestia had ever told came to mind.