Read Online Joanna by Roberta Gellis - Free Book Online Page B

smiled slowly. “And if I must repay, who will dare deny to give whatever I ask?”
    “Indeed, my lord is wise.” The voice was sweet and lilting.
    Both men now looked back at the tableau John had been contemplating. Unlike its effect on her husband, time seemed to have passed without touching Isabella of Angoulême. She was as dark as John, her eyes huge pools of black shaded by long lashes and surmounted by thin, perfectly arched brows of hair so fine and glossy that they shone like silk. Her nose was small and straight; her lips deep red and formed into an exquisite, slightly pouting bow. Her skin was a marvel, a rich brunette delicately tinted with rose so that it seemed to have an inner glow. To look upon her was a pleasure almost physical; she was called the Helen of Europeand with perfect justice.
    At her knee, stood a boy of about four, tall for his age and a surprising contrast to both his parents, for his hair was fair and his eyes a clear blue. He was well formed, with a bright, intelligent expression, marred only slightly by one eyelid that drooped unnaturally. The only other oddity in the child was his stillness. Boys of four wriggle; this one did not, as though he knew he was part of a picture and, if he disturbed it, he would be sent away. On the floor at Isabella’s feet another boy, a year younger, played with some bright objects and, in a bedecked cradle, an infant slept.
    After seven years of barrenness, Isabella had done well by the Plantagenets. She had produced two sturdy sons and two attractive daughters, and there seemed no reason to believe she would not bring forth other childrenall strong and lively and all delivered with little fuss and bother and not the slightest effect upon their mother’s beautiful body. There were those who said that the children had not produced the slightest effect on their mother’s icy heart either. This opinion was not universally held. Another party argued that Isabella
had
no heart and, therefore, it was unreasonable to expect her children to find a place there.
    Both parties were wrong. Isabella had a perfectly normal heart. It beat steadily and strongly at the normal temperature of her body, keeping the roses in her lips and her cheeks abloom. Nor was it impervious to love, but its object had been chosen long, long before Isabella’s children were born. In fact, the first time Isabella had looked in a polished metal mirror and been capable of understanding what she saw there, her heart had been so completely ravished that it   became insensible to any feeling beyond what directly affected the object of its devotion. Wholly and completely, Isabella of Angoulême loved herself.
    It was fortunate for Isabella that this was true. Otherwise her life would have been exceedingly unhappy. She had been betrothed from childhood to a young nobleman of power, wealth, and characterHugh le Brun de Lusignan. Only weeks before her wedding, John met her, coveted her, and, in short order, married her. Isabella made no protestand not because she was young and overawed. She had exchanged the count for the king, the vassal for the overlord, quite willingly. To her mind, being a queen could only set her beauty in a more appropriate frame.
    Isabella was well satisfied with her bargain, even though it was clear within months of her wedding that her husband was a confirmed lecher. However, his open contempt for the women he bedded casually, coupled with the formality and respect he showed Isabella herself, prevented her pride from being hurt. Since no emotion other than pride had ever touched her relationship with her husband, she was content. She did not doubt that John loved her; he would never be long separated from her and spent much time in her company just looking at herno matter whom he took to his bed.
    With the coming of her children, Isabella’s life was almost complete. Young Henry and Richard and the little girls had secured her position. She could never be put aside like