A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight's Tale Book 3)

by Diane Darcy

  “I’m fifty-five years old,” Cara said with a straight face.

  They both glanced at her, brows rising, as if she was serious, and she laughed.

  They caught the joke, and both grinned broadly.

  “Anyway, if we told you our secret recipe, we’d have to kill you.”

  The two men were still laughing at that when a much larger man came up behind them, said, “Off with you,” and he cuffed the slower man for good measure.

  Without a backward glance, they took off, leaving only Kellen, hands on hips, glowering at the two of them. He looked at the bucket in Gillian’s hand, and arched a brow. “May I ask what the two of you are doing?”

  Gillian gave a nonchalant shrug. “The things we women do for beauty, you have no idea.”

  He looked at the bucket, incredulous. “I don’t want you eating any of that, you’ve the babe to think of.”

  Gillian laughed while Cara tried not to, but oh, my gosh, his expression!

  Gillian shook her head. “Don’t worry, we’re not eating it, we’re putting it on our faces.”

  He gave her another look that asked, are you serious right now? And they couldn’t help it, both girls laughed again.

  Head tilted, brow furrowed, Kellen looked at his wife intently, and it hit Cara that the big guy was really, hand to heart, sweet on her friend.

  It was cute.

  It had her missing Wallace.

  As if she read her mind, Gillian glanced at Cara and asked Kellen in a more subdued tone, “Any word yet?”

  He shook his head. “The king is unmoved.”

  Cara’s mood darkened. “What happens if the king can’t be dissuaded?”

  From his expression, and the shake of his head, it would be nothing good.

  “All right, Kellen, that’s enough, we’re busy now.”

  His brow rose. “I am to leave?”

  Gillian nodded. “Yes, I’ll see you later.”

  With a fulminating look at both of them, her husband stomped off, muttering about the ‘thankless task of bearing bad news.’

  Gillian hugged Cara. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”

  She looked at their dismal bucket of plants. “How? Wallace has nothing to offer the king. Everything has already been taken from him. The king could just let him rot and be done with it, no skin off his nose.”

  Cara considered her ideas to bust him loose once again. She ought to just hire some mercenaries, but with what? She didn’t even have her necklace anymore.

  “I want you to know that you can live with me if anything happens, you’re not to worry about that.”

  Her gloom and doom didn’t lift. “And Kellen would be okay with that, would he?”

  “If he’s not, then he can dang well cough up my ring, can’t he?”

  Cara looked down at her little bucket of fruit and vegetables and remembered Kellen’s incredulous face, and her heart sank again.

  If this was what their entire plan consisted of, was Wallace already as good as dead?

  Chapter 29

  They went to the kitchen, Cara pointed out the woman in charge, and Gillian stepped forward. “Hello, we need a few items, please.”

  The woman Lady Helena had dealt with earlier, put hands on her hips. “Like what?” She asked, though the word came out ‘wot’. Her arched brows and body language indicated extreme attitude, and Cara thought this was probably because Lady Helena had bested her at their last meeting.

  Cara was no Lady Helena, but she could give it her best shot.

  Before she opened her mouth again, Gillian spoke up. “I am Lady Marshall. We need oats, red wine, some more cucumbers,” she looked at Cara.

  “Big bowls of warm water, honey, oil, a bowl and pestle, and some extra bowls for the finished products, spoons, a sharp knife.”

  The woman only hesitated a moment longer, and then bowed her head in deference to Gillian.

  Wow. Seriously? Apparently, Gillian fell higher in the pecking order than herself or Lady Helena, because the attitude simply melted away, and the woman turned to do Gillian’s bidding.

  Just wow.

  “And if we could have the strawberries and cucumbers cleaned, if you please?” Gillian blinked at the cook with wide, innocent eyes and the woman visibly softened.

  Cara was amused. Who to take lessons from? Lady Helena, or Gillian? Vinegar or sugar? It looked as if they both gained results.

  The cook had her underlings place trays out and they soon filled bowls with the products they’d ordered.

  Another tray for empty bowls and utensils, and they were set.

  Cara thought about the amount of ale, cider, and wine she’d been served since arriving. She’d bet if she could get the queen to hydrate, it would make a quick difference in her complexion. “Could we also get some drinking water and cups for drinking?” Cara asked.

  The cook looked at them both. “’Tis for thy secret recipe?”

  Cara and Gillian glanced at each other and Cara quickly said, “How did you know about that? It’s a secret, after all.”

  Looking smug, the cook waved her hand. “They are discussing it in the great hall and one of my girls overheard.”

  “You will not kill me, will you?” squeaked a wide-eyed teen, looking horrified at the prospect.

  Cara grinned, remembering her earlier threat to the young men. “Nope. Just don’t tell anyone else, all right?” She glanced around the kitchen, meeting gazes. “It’s very important that no one else knows about this, agreed?”

  They all nodded, but the hyped-up excitement ensured everyone else would know soon enough, if they didn’t already.

  Gillian giggled and Cara gave her a look. “Hollywood 101, marketing. Oh, and also, some towels will be necessary.”

  “Towels?”

  “Cloths,” Gillian supplied.

  It was actually an inspiration for Cara to watch how Gillian handled the servants. Regardless of titles, she was sure if she were alone, she wouldn’t get nearly the attention her friend inspired, everyone jumping to do her bidding.

  “Is there any chance you have beeswax?”

  The cook sniffed. “Of course. The maids will bring this all up to the queen’s chamber.”

  And how did everyone know they’d be in the queen’s chamber? “There really are no secrets around here.”

  Cook looking smug, turned back to her work.

  They went up to the queen’s chamber, unguarded now, and entered to find a couple of ladies inside.

  “Hello,” Cara said with a sunny smile as she instructed the servants where to set the trays.

  Then she tucked up the long sleeves of her gown, and got to work.

  She ground the oats, the lavender, and she checked the honey and set it aside.

  Gillian watched, interested. “Do you want to practice on me?”

  “I don’t know, are you going to tell your hubby I did something to you?”

  Gillian laughed. “Are you kidding? I never tell him anything I don’t have to.”

  That cracked them both up.

  Next Cara sliced cucumbers and then smashed some strawberries, adding enough of the ground oats to thicken it. She glanced at Gillian. “You aren’t allergic to strawberries, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  “I better hope the queen isn’t either,” she muttered under her breath, and shot a look at the two women chatting on the other side of the room.

  Cara helped Gillian lay back on a chaise chair, perfect as it reclined a bit, tilted her face up, and pinned back her hair. Next, she applied the thickened strawberry mask, when the queen came into the room with her entourage.

  She glanced at Cara, at Gillian, and then at the myriad products Cara had scattered about at her workstation.

  “You have a secret recipe?” The queen asked, coming all the way into the room with several ladies and two guards, who glanced around before closing the doors.

  “How on earth could you know about that?” Cara finished her application, then
placed cucumber disks on Gillian’s eyelids.

  The queen smiled, coming closer, just as two more women entered the room with Princess Melisande, the door quickly shutting behind them.

  The women spoke to each other quickly in French, and gestured towards Gillian’s face.

  The queen had one of her ladies pull up a chair, and she sat and watched with interest as Cara mashed together another beauty mask.

  “You are not allergic to strawberries, are you?” she asked the queen.

  Queen Eleanor, wide-eyed with excitement, quickly shook her head. “Non, non, not at all.”

  Cara mashed up another bowl of strawberries and oats and helped the queen lie down on the large bed, pinned her hair back and applied the beauty mask. “Strawberries are full of anti-oxidants, which will limit the production of free-radicals, and damaged cells.” She winked at the queen. “Basically, it helps prevent skin damage and wrinkles. Now close your eyes.” She carefully placed cucumber disks on the queen’s eyelids.

  “I’ll let this sit for about five minutes, before I apply the one that makes your skin silky soft.”

  Cara quickly racked her brain for a way to amuse the queen while she was her captive audience.

  Well, what did she do to amuse Princess Pat, and the others who came before her?

  She cringed a little as she acknowledged that she gossiped. About Hollywood, actors, directors, storylines. People behaving badly. Who was involved with whom.

  It was just sort of what they did, a set being a small, hard-working community where tempers sometimes flared, and something was always going on.

  That didn’t mean it had to be mean-spirited, it was just that everyone was always in everyone else’s business.

  Cara checked both beauty masks to make sure they weren’t dripping, and then said, “Gillian, do you remember Jackson Harrington?”

  “Sure. Is he still as good-looking as ever?”

  “You know he is. He was asking me how I kept Princess Pat’s skin looking so dewy onscreen, and she’d forbidden me to tell him, because she had an upcoming scene — I mean, an upcoming meeting with him — and wanted to look better than he did.”

  Gillian giggled. “Would he seriously want his skin to look better than hers?”

  “Apparently, he did because he found me and pulled me behind one of the trailers —”

  There was a gasp from her left. “A man pulled you into a private space?” the princess asked in careful English, her wide-eyed expression making her look younger than ever.

  “He did. He said he was trying to get my secret recipe out of me, and maybe he was, but he did take advantage of the situation and tried to kiss me.”

  “No!” Gillian said. “Wasn’t he dating Patrice Levy?”

  Cara chuckled. “She’s the Princess Pat I was referring to.”

  “No! You guys called her that?”

  “We were very, very careful not to let her know her nickname.”

  “Why would someone not wish to be called a princess? I did not think it an insult,” the queen said.

  Cara chuckled again. “You know, you’re right about that. Why not, indeed? And I’ll tell you something else, I think there is more to her than meets the eye. She probably does know about it, and enjoys the title.”

  “Of course, she does. Now, about that kiss …”

  “Yes, the kiss!” Gillian agreed.

  Cara noticed all of the women had pulled their chairs closer as she’d been busy making up the second beauty mask to put on the queen.

  The door opened, and in what Cara considered a timely, suspense-building occurrence, one of the girls from the kitchen came in with a bowl of water. She did her best not to slosh it as she walked and Cara indicated she place it in the middle of the table.

  Another servant came in with a pitcher, and cups.

  “Oh, good, the water is here. Could you pour us all a glass?”

  As the girl did so, Cara took a sip, and explained the benefits. “This is one of the most important beauty tips I can give you. Drink lots of water every day and stay hydrated. It reduces wrinkles, slows aging, improves complexion and more.”

  The queen, looking confused, took a sip, and after the girl left, insisted, “We are waiting!”

  Cara bit back a smile, unsure whether the woman was using the royal we or not.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what happened. All of it,” she stressed.

  The queen and Gillian both smiled, and the other women in the room leaned forward.

  “What I haven’t told you is that Princess Pat has a major crush — or rather, she is very fond of Jackson Harrington, though she tries to pretend otherwise.”

  A snort from the queen.

  “Jackson is charming to Patrice, but everyone knows he finds her overbearing and rude, and definitely not relationship material.”

  “Relationship material?” asked the queen.

  “Yes, you know, someone he might like to have a long-term relationship, perhaps even a marriage with.”

  “I see, go on.”

  Since it was almost time to take the original beauty mask off, Cara poured honey, and just a little oil, and some of the crushed lavender into a bowl, using a spoon to stir, adding more oatmeal to thicken.

  “He feels like he has to pretend to enjoy her company, just in case she ever has the ability to hurt his career.”

  “His career?” asked the queen. “This is very confusing.”

  “As a knight,” Gillian inserted quickly.

  “Oh, I see, and the kiss?” she asked again, and the ladies giggled.

  Cara dipped a cloth into the warm water, wrung it out, took the cucumbers off Gillian’s eyes, continuing as she carefully wiped off the strawberry mask.

  “The most ridiculous thing about it was he’d just spent the last hour romancing Princess Pat while I was polishing her fingernails. Every time I would glance up, Jackson would mouth, save me, and I would have to try not to laugh.

  She patted Gillian dry. “Anyway, he finally left, I finished with Patrice, put everything away, and was walking back. He was waiting between two trailers, and he whispered my name and held out a hand.”

  She glanced at the ladies. “Foolishly, I took it, not knowing what he was planning.”

  She paused, and they all giggled.

  “What was he planning?” the queen asked.

  Cara carefully placed the honey mask on Gillian. “First he asked me for my secret recipe. Then he drew me into his arms and laid one on me.”

  “What? What did he lay on you?”

  “He kissed her!” Gillian said. “What I want to know is, was it any good?”

  Cara set the spoon down and fanned herself. “Whoo! Let’s just say that he earned his reputation as a womanizer.”

  Which set Gillian to laughing again. “That good?”

  “All I’m saying is the man knows how to kiss.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the queen, which sort of brought Cara up short for a moment, and made her feel sad for the other woman.

  She rounded the bed and repeated the beauty regimen on Queen Eleanor, removing cucumbers, dipping a cloth in the water, wiping off strawberries.

  She sort of felt bad for whoever was going to have to clean up the mess she was making with the cloths.

  Using the backs of her fingers, she felt the queen’s skin and said, “Oh, nice,” and patted the new beauty mask onto her face. This time she didn’t cover her eyes.

  “Well, you know, there are some men who grab you, and mash your lips together, and the whole event is sort of uncomfortable. Then there are men like Jackson, who kiss softy, sweetly, and you just sort of melt into it.”

  And that was a perfect opening for her.

  “Of course,” she giggled as she finished putting the second mask on the queen. “He’s not the best I’ve ever kissed.”

  “Oh?” Gillian asked. “Do tell.”

  Cara laughed, having fun with the conversation, even if it was for a greater purpose.
<
br />   “Lord Wallace Wolfsbane kisses better than any man before him,” she said directly to the queen, her tone conspiratorial.

  “Seriously?” Gillian asked.

  “I’m totally serious. That man could warm up an ice cube. A glacier even.”

  She lowered her tone so she was almost whispering, “At the same time he’s kissing me softly, he does this thing where he grips my shoulders, pulls me close, and then holds me against him as if he’ll die if I move away.”

  The queen drew in a breath.

  Keeping her words low, she continued to praise the man. “I don’t know if you know the whole story behind the interrupted joust or not, against Lord Wolfsbane, and Sir Rupert Dinsdale?”

  “I thought I did,” Gillian, her co-conspirator said. “Is there more?”

  “Oh, there’s more.”

  The queen was wide-eyed. “What happened?”

  “Well, after I was shoved into the crowd, probably by one of Lord Dinsdale’s men, I absolutely thought I was finished. Wallace’s horse reared up in front of me, slashed at my face, hundreds of pounds of havoc and muscle, and I have never in my entire life imagined a man could handle a horse of that size in such a way. I really thought I was dead.”

  Looking inward, remembering, had her heartbeat picking up speed. She took in a deep breath, smelling strawberries and honey.

  “Details!” Gillian said.

  “All right, so here’s what happened, the king …”

  She turned widened eyes to the queen, as if she’d only just realized. “Oh, goodness, you must’ve been there and seen the whole thing.”

  The queen nodded. “I did,” her voice sounded breathless.

  “Anyway, the king gave Wolfsbane permission to take me away. Which he did, and later that day I escaped him!”

  All of the ladies in the room made noises, some of them quickly whispering in French.

  “I thought myself clever, getting away from such a big angry man, but I should have realized that even with all his strength and irritation, he’d been gentle with me the entire time.”

  The queen put a hand to her chest.

  “So, you escaped?” Gillian asked, starting to sit up, and Cara motioned her back down again.

  “I did, running through deer trails, and bushes, and thinking myself competent and cunning.”