Page 32 of A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight’s Tale #3)

W hen Cara finally went inside the tent to get ready for bed, she was exhausted from being on all day. The fun party girl who made everyone beautiful was definitely dragging.

The girls were already asleep, but Lady Helena had a small candle burning on a metal plate, and though she was lying in bed, she sat up, looking so hopeful that Cara’s heart clenched.

“How did it go?”

Cara took a breath, and let it out slowly as she set her supplies off to one side. “All things considered, I think it went well.” She slipped out of her dress. “I spent most of the day with the queen, and she looked beautiful for this evening’s entertainment. She told me she was well pleased.”

“I saw her. She did look beautiful,” Lady Helena whispered.

“She did.” Cara had teased Queen Eleanor that she’d be getting lucky tonight with the king, looking as she did. The queen had laughed, blushed, and Cara hoped she was right.

“I’m sorry for not helping your girls get ready earlier, or sitting with you, but the queen wanted me with her, and I couldn’t say no.”

She finished getting her dress off, and slipped the nightgown over her head before she looked at Lady Helena. “I made the offer to pay the taxes again if you get the property back.”

Lady Helena’s eyes widened in the darkness and she clutched the blanket, sucking in a shaky breath. “I never thought I would be glad to hear such a statement, but I am. We will work it out if we get the chance.”

Lady Helena seemed to hesitate. “I heard rumors around the castle that you are quick becoming a favorite. I do not know how you did it.”

Uh ... by walking a tightrope? Dance, monkey dance? Cara bit back a hysterical giggle, and used a damp cloth to wash her face. “Didn’t you know? Charm is my superpower,” she said, self-deprecating.

Lady Helena laughed softly, and agreed. “It is. I am glad to have you on our side.”

Yes, she was on their side. Not only because she liked this family, but it was also reparation and they both knew it. If she hadn’t come here in the first place, they’d have everything back already, and Wallace would not be sitting in a dungeon.

It wasn’t exactly her fault, but sometimes it felt like it was. Wallace’s loss, the stolen necklace, just everything. Cara sighed. “Did Wallace get supper? Does he have blankets?”

“Aye, I made sure. Let us get some rest and we’ll see what the morrow brings.”

Cara agreed and snuggled in between the two girls.

She settled down, feeling suddenly weepy, wishing she was back to the easy problem of, should she stay here and marry Wallace? Or go back home to her own family?

Wallace, who should be in here, trying and failing to seduce her, making her laugh, not lying in a dungeon awaiting the king’s pleasure.

She’d broken history somehow, and needed to fix it. Wallace was honorable, strong, brave, sweet. He was the best man she’d ever known, and was not meant to end the villain of the piece.

She sent up a silent prayer, please, please, that the queen talked the king into another joust. That Wallace would win in front of everyone, clear his name forever, and get back what was his. That she could somehow make a difference.

It wasn’t just about his property and reputation anymore.

His life might actually depend on it.

* * *

They woke late the next morning and Cara, well rested and optimistic once more, helped everyone get ready for the wedding. It would take place in late afternoon, so they didn’t have to hurry.

She was glad to feel more herself today.

They put on their finery, clothes Cara had altered before their journey, and she was thrilled with the way everyone turned out.

Already she’d seen ladies copy the scarf in Dori’s hair, and the leather ties around Amelia’s gown.

Today, Amelia looked beautiful, her shortened dress split on both sides, the flowing scarf around her waist, matching the ones at her elbows, and sleeves puffing up top. The rest of the material hung below her hands in the fashion of the day.

Dori’s ruffle at the back of her dress was adorable, sleeves tight until they also hung, the knotted scarf around her neck tucked into her bodice.

Add in hair and makeup and, once more, they were sure to stand out.

Lady Helena brought bread and cheese to eat while they finished getting ready, and it was a good thing because just as she added the finishing touches to Lady Helena’s makeup, a servant came by to inform them the queen had need of Lady Cara.

She glanced at Lady Helena. “That’s my cue.”

Gillian must have been coming to meet her, because she intercepted her on the way to the keep. “You look nice,” she took in the bright red gown Cara had borrowed from wardrobe on that fateful day. “Are you ready for this?”

Cara laughed, hefting her bag of supplies. “Of course, I live for this, this is my normal. Every day is a production.”

As they walked by the dungeon, the doors swung up and open and banged on the ground. Before she could help herself, Cara rushed forward but was stopped by the guard coming up the stairs. “Wallace?” she yelled down.

“Cara?” Just hearing his deep voice say her name had her drawing in a breath, tears springing to her eyes. She tried to get past the guard but another came forward and quickly shut both doors. “Move along.”

Gillian pulled her away. “Come on, there’s nothing you can do here, and we can’t keep the queen waiting.”

Cara’s lips trembled, and the sinking feeling in her gut left her feeling shaky as they made their way up the stairs and down the hall to the queen’s chamber.

Before they arrived at the doors, Gillian stopped her in the hallway and hugged her for a long while before pulling back. “Chin up, smile on, don’t falter now.” Using her thumbs, she rubbed under Cara’s eyes, fixing her smeared makeup.

Gillian was right, they’d had a good day yesterday with the queen, and she couldn’t blow it now.

She smiled, and if she wasn’t quite there yet, she would be. “Fake it, till you make it?”

“Exactly,” Gillian said.

They moved toward the doors, and the guards opened them as they arrived, and they walked into madness.

Ladies talking and chattering in two languages at a hundred miles an hour, many in a state of undress as they had maids helping with their clothes, their hair, and some of them were even dabbling with makeup.

Cara smiled widely and felt the tension drain out of her. Last night she’d been worn out after a long day, but this was her area of expertise, her field of operation, and where she felt most comfortable. She could totally do this.

She clapped her hands. “All right, ladies, start your engines!” she said cheerfully.

Though none of them, except for Gillian, could possibly know what she meant, the excitement level increased.

Smiling, the queen waved her over. “Lady Cara, come and help us with the bride!”

Cara surged forward, and took her place behind Princess Melisande. “Well, ladies, I’ve been considering what to do, and I think I’ve dreamed up the perfect hairstyle.”

Excitement shown in the eyes around her. And it felt like she needed to make an occasion of it.

She weighed her words carefully and then cleared her throat. “As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, love of beauty is taste. The creation of beauty is art.” She grinned as she looked at the delighted faces surrounding her. “Let’s create some art!”

Shining eyes, and the squeals of excitement let her know that women, no matter the time, were much the same.

Girls just wanted to have fun.

* * *

About an hour later, the bride was ready.

Cara pinned big barrel curls in place on top, wove the longer strands into a loose French braid rounding her head, added a messy bun at the crown, and long, loose curls around her face and hairline that dangled over her shoulders to her nonexistent chest.

A golden crown with rosettes was carefully set atop, and with her face lightly made up, she was gorgeous, like a Calvin Klein model, young and stunning.

The queen stood, motioned everyone back, and did a slow circuit around the girl. Princess Melisande’s gown was a vivid jewel-blue, decorated with pearls, gold threading, and a two-piece gossamer overcoat which opened to reveal the gold braided belt hanging from waist to floor.

The queen finally nodded and smiled at Cara. “La perfection.”

Cara gave a modest nod.

The queen shooed Millie into a chair and told her to sit still, and the princess froze in place like it was her job, giving the rest of them time to get ready.

The queen was next, and when she took her seat, she called for more water.

Cara exchanged an amused glance with Gillian.

They were all drinking water like it was an elixir, which, of course, it was.

Cara spent the next hour fixing the queen’s hair and makeup, helping the ladies darken their lashes, and brighten their lips and cheeks.

The queen was in a great mood, and Cara winked at her several times, drew a few blushes from her, as the queen smiled and chatted, in her element.

Honestly, if she hadn’t been so busy being a queen and all, she’d have been a great addition to Cara’s team in Hollywood.

When everyone looked amazing, Gillian helped Cara touch up her makeup, as the queen sent word that it was time.

Starting with Queen Eleanor, and then Princess Melisande, the wedding procession slowly made its way downstairs with Cara and Gillian taking up the rear.

They could hear the crowd quiet, and when they reached the top of the stairs, Cara watched the king smile at the queen and kiss her hand, before holding his arm out to the bride.

The crowd below was dressed in finery, with rich colors, and a lot of silk. Tunics, linen shirts, and belts for the men. Embroidered dresses, mantles, and cords for the women — as well as some crazy headdresses. Everyone, male or female, wore jewels.

It sort of reminded Cara of a Hollywood premiere.

King Henry and the bride took the lead, going outside, which Cara hadn’t expected.

“Where are they going?”

“To the chapel,” Gillian whispered.

As soon as the king and queen’s immediate party disappeared, the colorful crowd surged forward, leaving Gillian and Cara on the stairs for a while, until they were able to make their way outdoors.

Kellen waited for Gillian, which gave Cara a bit of a pang.

Wallace should be here.

They made their way to the chapel and stood outside with at least half the crowd, the building too small to accommodate everyone.

Tables of food were set up outside, and she could see the gates were open, and villagers stood back, the men holding hats in hand.

Taking it all in, the castle, the courtyard, and colorful crowd, Cara couldn’t help being impressed.

If this had been a Hollywood production, someone would be winning the Academy Award for Best Production Design, and Best Costume Design.

The crowd quieted, and she could hear someone speaking, probably the priest, and she glanced around for Lady Helena and her girls, but couldn’t see them.

Perhaps they’d made it inside.

Gillian was clinging to her husband’s arm, whispering to him, making him smile, and once again, Cara couldn’t help wishing for Wallace.

She glanced toward the dungeon wall, and from this vantage, could see hands clutching the bars of a tiny window.

Her lips parted. It was Wallace, she was sure of it.

She took one step toward him, before Gillian grabbed her elbow and shook her head.

Cara subsided. Her friend was right, this wasn’t the time, or the place, and she didn’t want to make a spectacle of them both by doing what? Laying on her stomach and grasping his hands?

She settled once again, but her heart pounded, and she couldn’t help slipping glances toward that small window.

The next time she looked, the hands were gone.

She couldn’t imagine how he felt; alone, trapped, disgraced. Her heart ached for him.

After a long while, where Cara occasionally caught a Latin word or two of the ceremony, the king came outside, the queen on his arm, and he was obviously in a good mood, smiling, waving, as he gestured to the bride and groom who stepped out after them.

As the crowd parted to make room, she got a good look at the well-dressed groom, older than his child bride by probably fifteen or twenty years.

Yikes. But, when in Rome ... she reminded herself.

“’Tis certainly a day for romance, do you not agree?” King Henry shouted out.

And of course, everyone agreed with the king.

“We have good weather, a beautiful blushing bride, and a handsome, honorable,” he stressed the word, “groom.”

Everyone laughed as the king chuckled, and Cara caught that the joke was directed at the groom, unable to consummate the marriage until his bride grew up.

He’d better not.

“But,” the king lifted his hand, obviously having fun, “as it is a day for romance, and as I’m feeling so generous, very generous, by the way, did everyone hear the titles and properties I bestowed upon our young couple this day?”

Everyone agreed the king was very generous.

He looked mock-humble for a moment and then smiled and waved his hand once more. “Of course, of course. Think naught of it. At least until come tax time!”

Once again everyone laughed, though Cara felt it might be a bit more strained that time.

King Henry looked at his queen. “As this is a day of romance, a wedding, I am reminded of my own marriage, to my own beautiful bride.” He took Queen Eleanor’s hand and kissed it.

“That would be two brides I have thought of this day. If I make it three, would that not be a lucky number?”

People looked at each other, and Cara glanced at Gillian, who just shook her head and gave a light shrug.

A chill ran down Cara’s spine, like a premonition.

“I have decided that it would be an excellent idea to combine two of our noble families, thus ending a blood feud, and instead, looking toward the future! “Sir Rupert Dinsdale! You will come forward now!”

A tall, broad-shouldered man, moved through the crowd until he stood before the king who gestured for him to join him.

When he turned, he was revealed to be good-looking, maybe a little shy about the attention, but a good sport all the same.

This was Rupert the Brave?

This was Wallace’s enemy?

She’d been expecting evil incarnate, and this guy just wasn’t it.

The king continued. “And now, for the surprise! Lady Amelia Wolfsbane, please join us.”

Cara searched until she saw Amelia pushed forward by the laughing crowd, to the point she stumbled into the spot next to Sir Rupert Dinsdale, who caught her gallantly.

The crowd loved it.

Cara had a clear vision of the king’s face, and he looked benevolent as he said in a loud voice, “Lady Amelia, I understand your betrothal agreement was broken.”

Amelia nodded shyly.

“Then good fortune is smiling upon you. Weddings always bring out the romance inside me, and, as of this moment Lady Amelia Wolfsbane, you are betrothed to Sir Rupert Dinsdale.”

He took both their hands, put them together, and then smiled at the crowd. “Is that not wonderful? Do I have your agreement?”

As everyone clapped and cheered, Sir Rupert, still holding Amelia’s hand, went to one knee before the king and bowed his head. It took a moment longer for Amelia to dip down into a low curtsy.

The girl’s shoulders were tense. She was probably in shock. Cara was, that was for sure. “I just can’t believe this. What will Wallace say?”

Gillian’s shushing made Cara realize she’d said the words aloud.

And what about Lady Helena? She hated the Dinsdale family with a passion. And for her daughter to marry into it?

Cara’s stomach twisted.

Was this because she’d spoken to the queen about Wallace?

Had the king decided he couldn’t free him, but desired to throw his queen a bone in the form of a romantic betrothal, unexpected and seemingly wise?

She felt sick.

And not just that, but something prodded her memory. The day she tried on the necklace, she’d read the history, and she was pretty sure that Sir Rupert’s bride, Lady Amelia, was once given the Heart of Eternity necklace.

And now Rupert was betrothed to Amelia?

So ... if Amelia ended up with the necklace, wouldn’t that mean one of the Dinsdales really did steal it?

She glanced toward the small dungeon window, but the crowd was moving toward the food and it was no longer visible.

When Kellen indicated they should go, Cara silently followed her friends, and when they went inside the keep, sat on a bench beside them, trying to catch her breath.

She should never have spoken to the queen. It was like she’d been sent back in time to utterly ruin the Wolfsbanes. If time travel was real, perhaps magic was too? Perhaps Lord Dinsdale was some sort of warlock scurrying through time, until he’d found the one woman most likely to bring wreck and ruin to this family.

Servants buzzed about placing food on tables and refreshing drinks. She glanced around the crowded room. If she thought the tables outside were bulging, it was nothing compared to the tables in the great hall. Fresh bread, different types of meats and stuffing, fish, fruits, and vegetables of all kinds.

Gillian patted her hand. “This will work out somehow, I just know it.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t look at the other woman, could tell from her tone that even Gillian believed all was lost.

She also didn’t search for Lady Helena, as she would have no words of comfort for her.

She had utterly failed at what she’d set out to do, made things worse, and had no idea how to even start to fix them.

She wanted to go home.

She’d once considered this time period so romantic, but the truth was, medieval times sucked.