The Dark One: Dark Knight (119 page)

     He snorted into his cup, refusing to
respond. Her smile turned genuine at his reluctance and she leaned against his
arm. “No son? Are you truly that dead-set against any more children?”

     He eyed her. “We have been through this. I
do not wish to discuss it now.”

     She laughed softly and stroked his stubbled
cheek as the minstrels began to play a lively tune. “You are a terrible coward,
Gaston.”

     “Why is that?” he drank from his chalice.

“You are afraid of your
children,” she said simply. “You have already told me that you are afraid you
will not be able to handle Dane and Trenton when they grow older, and I know
for a fact that Adeliza and Arica scare you to death because they'll grow into
young women with minds of their own, and they've already got you whipped into
submission.”

     “Whipped into submission?” he looked at
her. “I beg to differ, madam. I am their father, not their servant.”

     Her eyes were smoky as she gazed back at
his incredible face.   “They could ask you for the world and you would not deny
them, and that scares you. You are a weak-willed soul when it comes to your
children because you love them so. Isn't that right?”

     He gazed back into her eyes, his limbs
filled with the liquid warmth of his feelings for her. “Astute, my lady. As
always.”

     She kissed him gently, feeling the heat of
the contact bolt through her body. “More children, Gaston, a whole castle-full.
The Dark Duke must have a great legacy.”

     He shook his head slowly; she was intent on
disobeying his wishes in the matter. She started to laugh at him again when
Hubert appeared on her other side.

     “A dance, my lady?” he asked, entirely
aware of Gaston’s intense gaze on him.

     Remington did not even ask Gaston's
permission. She was up and on the floor with Hubert, and he swung her into the
downbeat of the tune with great flourish. Gaston watched her, laughing and
giddy, as the knight twirled her about the floor. He could have easily been
jealous, but he wasn't thinking along those lines; he was simply thankful to
see her enjoying herself.    This woman who cringed with terror the first time
he tried to dance with her.

     But the woman dancing before him was not
the same woman. She was confident, delightfully charming and poised. And the
fact that she was the most beautiful woman in the room had all eyes upon her.
Gaston sat back in his chair, his face creased with satisfaction.

     “I have known Remington since she was
sixteen years old,” Alex said softly from his other side. “I can only remember
seeing her this happy one time; right before she wed Guy. It was almost the
last time I ever remember seeing her smile.”

     Gaston watched Remington spin before him in
Hubert's arms, a great whoosh of scarlet. “After what's happened, I thought it
would take her a good deal of time to recover herself. I am glad to see I was
wrong.”

     Alex watched Remington, too, remembering
how desperately in love with her he had been. If he thought about it, he
probably still was. But she was, as always, unattainable, especially now. But
that knowledge did not stop him from admiring her flawless beauty.

     “I shall loan her more clothes until she
can retrieve her own, my lord,” Anne leaned around her husband and was speaking
to Gaston. “Surely she cannot make do with only one surcoat.”

     “Thank you for your consideration, my
lady,” he replied.

     Anne gazed at the duke a moment, certainly
the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. When he looked at her with his
smoky gray eyes, piercing and jewel-like, it was enough to make her heart
flutter like a young maiden's. “What are your plans come the morrow, my lord?”

     “We return to Mt. Holyoak and await the
arrival of my knights who will escort her back to London,” he said, watching
Remington as she danced by once again. “I shall remain in Yorkshire a while
longer.”

     Alex knew why although he wasn't sure Anne
did, and was thankful when she did not press the duke. When she turned back to
one of her ladies, Alex leaned close to Gaston.

     “Should you require my help, my lord, do
not hesitate to ask,” he said quietly. “I should like to see Stoneley dead as
much as you.”

     Gaston nodded in thanks. “If you hear of
his whereabouts, I can be reached at Mt. Holyoak. I shall remain in Yorkshire
until I find him.”

     Alex scratched his chin thoughtfully. “He
was particularly allied with Keith Botmore and Douglass Archibald. ‘Tis
possible he's made contact with them.”

     “My contacting Botmore is out of the
question, and I have yet to meet Archibald.”

     “I shall send missives to them and find out
what they know,” Alex said. “However, they know I have allied with you and may
not respond.”

     “True. I shall contact Brimley and
Tarrington and see what they have heard. Hopefully, someone has caught wind of
Guy's whereabouts,” Remington waltzed by again, this time with a different
knight and Gaston raised an eyebrow. “Who is that?”

     Alex turned to look, grinning at what he
saw. “That is Sir Drake Connaught. That man is, shall I say, a rogue. He's got
at least a half dozen bastards about these parts and I'd release him from his
oath to me if he were not an outstanding knight. Anne can't stand him.”

     Gaston watched the knight intolerantly as
he cradled Remington in his arms. She was smiling brightly at him, chatting
amiably. He shifted in his seat. “I shall give him thirty seconds. If he's not
released her by then, I shall step in.”

     Alex chuckled, drinking of his French wine.
“Have no fear, my lord. He's already been rejected by Remington.”

     “He has?” Gaston looked at the baron.

     Alex eyed Drake, tall and dark and
striking. “She was most unkind with her rejection, as I recall. Something about
a self-absorbed, supercilious bastard.” When Gaston smiled humorously, Alex
looked thoughtful. “And if I remember correctly, he went for every one of the
Halsey sisters, trying for yet another conquest. Jasmine cowered from him, Skye
would not even acknowledge him, and Rory gave him a black eye. I always liked
Rory a great deal.”

     Gaston laughed softly. “So did I. When she
wasn't playing tricks on my knights.”

     Alex let out a loud guffaw. “She put some
sort of tree sap on Drake's saddle that turned into mortar when he sat on it.
We couldn't get him off the saddle; he sat outside in the rain for six hours
while the knights tried to pry him free. They finally resorted to removing him
and the saddle together and then wresting him from the armor,” he laughed again
at the memory. “I thought Anne was going to burst a vein with all of her
laughing.”

     Gaston laughed too, eyeing the knight once
again as he held Remington. He wasn't so worried anymore.

     The dancing and merriment went on into the
night. Alex's knights, seeing that the duke had not prevented Hugh or Drake
from dancing with his ladylove, all vied for their turns and Remington found
herself dancing the evening away with several dashing young men. Sir Adam was
the next brave man, daring to take her to waltz on a slow ballad. As Gaston
watched with a critically protective eye, Remington became the undisputed belle
of the ball, surrounded by virile young men eager to chat with the beautiful
woman. She laughed and joked with them, displaying her delightfully dimpled
smile for their enjoyment. Gaston merely sat back, wine in hand, conversing
leisurely with Alec. His pride went beyond words.

     It was a strange experience for him. He had
avoided social situations with Mari-Elle at all costs because they usually ended
with his wife finding a young man to bed and he slipping out to attend military
duties. Never had he attended a social occasion where his better half was the
center of attention. He could have very easily been jealous, but he found
instead that he was as prideful as a stud stallion. Arrogant because the woman
being drooled over loved him with all of her heart, and because he loved her
desperately in return. She turned to look at him several times and they smiled
at each other warmly.

     Most of the diners had retired for the
night with the exception of Alex, Gaston, Remington, and several knights. The
music was still playing softly but there was no dancing. Instead, Remington was
surrounded by six or seven knights on one side of the room while Gaston and Alex
were still seated at the head table on the other side of the hall. The hour was
late and the night still.

     Gaston could hear Remington's sweet voice
from where he sat as she demand Sir Drake tell her more of his Irish home.
Being half Irish herself, 'twas natural that she wanted to hear of her mother's
homeland. Having long since finished their final goblets of wine, Alex and
Gaston broke out a chess set while Remington and the knights continued their
party. They played chess and shared a pitcher of warm cider between them,
listening to Remington's occasional laughter and the low hum of male voices.

     Under normal circumstances, Gaston would
have put an end to her evening long ago. But the past few days had been so
traumatic for Remington that he was not opposed to allowing her a bit of
laughter and gaiety. She seemed to have forgotten all about her brush with the
devil for the moment and he was thankful.

     While he and Alec were in the middle of a
particularly critical move, Drake turned to the musicians and demanded they
play an Irish jig. Complying, the four minstrels lapsed into a wild Celt melody
and Remington found herself swung across the floor in Drake's arms. She
squealed with laughter and they cavorted across the floor, but in faith she was
terribly tired and begged him to cease. He simply laughed at her, twirling her
nearly senseless until a large, imposing figure appeared in their path.

     Drake stopped and Remington, still moving
with the momentum, pitched forward into Gaston's arms.

     Gaston was staring straight at the knight.
“She asked you to stop quite nicely. Since you do not seem apt to obey her
wishes, I will motivate your self-control.”

     Remington, flushed and gasping with
excitement, took Gaston's hands into her own. “Truly, Gaston, he was not being
cruel. It was all in fun.”

     Drake was decidedly afraid of the Dark One.
He bowed crisply. “I meant no offense, my lord. As the lady said, 'twas all in
fun, I was simply showing her a true Irish jig.”

     Remington nodded vehemently to back his
statement. “Honestly, Gaston. Please do not be angry.”

     His cold facade faltered slightly,
realizing he had overreacted. But when he had heard her pleading with the
knight to stop, memories of Guy flooded back on him and he could hear her
pleading with her husband to stop his brutal onslaught. It was a peculiar
flashback and he found himself on his feet before he realized it, moving to
halt the knight. Now, looking at her earnest face, he felt a bit foolish.

     “I am not,” he said. “But it is late and I
think it is time we called a halt to the festivities.”

     She nodded. “I am fatigued,” she turned to
Drake and curtsied prettily. “My thanks, Drake. I enjoyed discussing our mutual
Irish heritage.”

     “As did I, my lady,” Drake smiled and moved
to take her hand, but realized who was standing behind her and quickly put the
outstretched hand behind his back. “Good eve, my lord.”

     Gaston eyed the knight as he moved away
rapidly. Remington followed him as well and waved sweetly to her companions as
they dispersed themselves. She looked up to Gaston to find him gazing at her
with a cocked brow. She smiled and clutched his arm.

     “Why do you look at me like that?”

     His gaze rested on her a moment longer
before he chuckled, patting her hand. “Because I am the luckiest man who has
ever lived,” he led her over to the table where Alex still sat. “Bid good night
to Alex.”

     She extended a warm good sleep to Lord
Ingilsby as Gaston put his arm about her waist possessively and led her from
the grand hall. A servant was waiting at the mouth of the hall with a brightly
lit torch, waiting to show them to their room. Talk was soft between them,
smiles warm as they followed the servant through the foyer and toward the main
stairs. At one point, Remington lamented her fatigue and Gaston swept her into
his arms to a screech of delighted giggles. She squirmed her way out of his
grasp only to find herself heaved over his shoulder as they hit the stairs.
Both of them laughing, he mounted the stairs behind the smirking servant with
Remington slung over his broad shoulder. She pounded on his back and he slapped
her playfully on the behind.

     When they reached the first landing where
the stairs split in two directions, the front door swung open and several
soldiers spilled forth. Gaston glanced disinterested until he saw they
completely bypassed Alex in the dining hall and headed straight for him.

     “My lord!” one of the soldiers called out
to him.

     Gaston put Remington down gently. “What is
it?”

     “We have received a messenger from Mt.
Holyoak, my lord. She's under siege!”