Free Love's Battle (True Blue Trilogy) by Angela Hayes Page B

Count d’La Marche. The date was August eighteenth, twelve hundred.
    A dozen lit candles at their side, Kyna and Gaea were sitting by an open window adding last minute embroidery to Isabella’s wedding trousseau. Since I didn’t have the patience, nor the skill to help them, I was left to deal with the small dark haired figure laying face down on the bed she’d thrown herself on just moments before. Isabella at her tender age of twelve had a wonderful flair for the dramatic. Being beautiful and spoiled didn’t help in the least.
    “Why is it that I, the intended bride, have no choice in who shall and shall not attend my wedding on the morrow?” Isabella asked, her words muffled by the bed clothes she‘d buried her head in.
    Drifting up from the Great Hall below were the smells and sounds of a night feast. One full of ribald debauchery, unfit for Isabella’s tender aged eyes and ears.
    With a less than lady like snort I hiked up my cumbersome skirts, crawling onto the feather filled mattress beside her.
    “Mon ange,” I chided, pulling my pitch colored hair out of the way so I wouldn’t sit on it. “You know there is none who would dare refuse John. At least not to his face. He is England’s king. And you know as well as I that a woman’s opinion is rarely considered in these matters.”
    I was not disappointed to hear the muffled scream in response to my answer. My charge was nothing if not predictable in her temperament. I rolled my green eyes at my sisters. It was typical of Isabella to say the first thing that came to mind, only waiting to think after she had all ready spoken.
    “Did you not find England’s king to your liking?” I prodded, picking balls of lint from the covers. “He did seem to spark the interest of several ladies present this eve.”
    “Preening peacock. I kept waiting for him to crow and flap his wings.” Flopping herself onto her back with a huff Isabella considered my prodding more closely, confessing she was not entirely displease by his presence as she‘d first let on. “Although he seemed to prick and goad my temper at every turn, I did notice an intelligent light in his eyes. He may yet serve England well.”
    Progress made I scooted closer to Isabella. Drawing her head into my lap I began to smooth her hair and hum a comforting tune. It was a habit she’d been fond of since she was a mere babe. Placed in my arms at the tender age of eight I loved Isabella as if she were my own child.
    “What say you Gaea and Kyna? You know I value your opinions as well as Thalia’s.”
    “His teeth were white and his belly flat. Good reason for a man his age to strut.” Kyna winked, pulling at her thread. Her emerald eyes were full of cheer.
    “He reminds me of a certain young miss with his fiery temperament. I can’t recall who though!” Gaea kidded.
    “For shame Gaea. I am the pinnacle of lady like decorum and propriety!” Isabella lied with a straight face, causing us all to laugh at loud. “’Tis not my fault that my parents chose to have me associate with dolts and dimwits, whose very mere attendance urges my more uncouth instincts to the surface.”
    “Rest assured mon ange the choice of associates will no longer lie with them. It will soon lie with Hugh.” I reminded her softly.
    Isabella chewed on her lip as she considered her future. “Hugh, my intended. Tomorrow he shall be my Lord and husband, a fair man in possession of the majority of his teeth and hair. Pleasing enough to look upon.” Isabella’s once chipper voice turned brooding. “I shall do my duty and become his chatelaine. Still, I cannot help but compare him to another. Ah, c’est la vie. England’s king has vexed me sorely and yet I cannot help but wish it were him I were meeting on the morrow. But it will do me well not to think of what cannot be. Tomorrow I will marry Hugh.”
    Looking over my charges head I smiled at my sisters. The light Isabella and John had given off earlier in the evening had