The Dark One: Dark Knight (15 page)

     The chargers were halted several feet from
the ladies and the knights dismounted.  The women were surprised to see they
wore no armor, merely shirts, breeches and heavy boots.  They seemed to shun
the tunics and hose so favored by the court men, preferring more sturdy
clothing instead.  Except for Antonius; he looked like a god in hose and a
loose-fitting shirt.  Jasmine felt her heart flutter wildly at the sight of
him.

     Gaston was so large he nearly blotted out
the sun as he came upon them.  “Good day, ladies.”

     Remington smiled at him, fanning herself
more forcefully.  He always seemed to make her hot.  “Good day, Sir Gaston. 
How is your building coming along?”

     “Too damn hot,” he said, moving underneath
the shade.  “The men are seeking shelter for the afternoon.  May I?”

     Remington indicated for him to sit beside
her and he did, his big body lowering itself gracefully.  Nicolas and Arik
crouched near Skye, while Antonius smiled at Jasmine.  Remington was amused to
see her sister flush madly, yet wary at the same time of the knight’s
attention.

     “I had two men faint on me this morning
with this cursed weather, so we decided to call a halt,” Gaston said, his gaze
moving out to Charles and Dane in the water.  “By God, I have not been swimming
since I was a lad.”

     “The water is wonderfully cool,” Remington
said. “You should refresh yourselves.”

     Gaston leaned back on his elbow, lying on
his side.  “I think not for me.  But my men are welcome to.”

     “You are too kind,” Arik said drolly.  “I
am allergic to water.”

     “How is that possible since your ancestors
were Vikings?” Antonius wanted to know.  “You should be a natural to water.”

     “What about you?  You come from Rome, for
God’s sake,” Arik returned.  “Yet you so much as look at water and you become
seasick.  You are a pathetic excuse for a Roman.”

     Antonius smiled.  “I would have done fine
as a centurion or legionnaire.  Just not as a sailor.”

     “Or a galley slave,” Nicolas snorted,
drawing soft laughter. 

     “Centurion.” Arik scoffed.  “Good Christ,
you have lofty dreams.  You are nothing more than a commoner.”

     Antonius thrust his chin up.  “I would have
married well, then.”

     Remington was playing with a piece of
grass, chuckling at Antonius’ expense.  Arik focused on her.

     “And what of our Celt beauty?  Do you
swim?” he asked.

     Gaston looked at her, noticing she was
flushing with the attention.  “You are Celt?”

     “My mother was born in Ireland,” she told
him softly.  “She claimed to be descended from the Tuatha de Danann.”

     “The fairy race?” Gaston remarked.  “Aye,
you could pass for a fairy princess.”

     Remington was still uncomfortable with his
references to her looks.  She gazed up at Arik.  “I am afraid I must embarrass
you gentleman, Sir Arik.  I can swim like a fish and I love the water.”

     “Celt, eh?” Nicolas repeated.  “That must
be where the wild woman gets her red hair.”

     Remington smiled at his remark, fiddling
with the grass.  Silence filled the air for a few moments, though not
uncomfortable.  Skye held up her flower wreath, pleased with her handiwork, and
put it on her head.

     “Lovely,” Nicolas said.  “You look like a
wood nymph.”

     Skye blushed sweetly, displaying dimples
like her older sister.  “Thank you, my lord.”

     Nicolas lay back on the grass, lazily,
smiling at the young girl.  “How old are you, Lady Skye?”

     “Fourteen, my lord,” she replied, blushing
redder by the moment.  “I shall be fifteen come Christmas.”

     Remington put the grass down and leaned
back against the tree.  “Where is Sir Patrick?”

     “Trying to convince your sister to join
us,” Gaston replied.  “She is a stubborn wench.”

     “She shall not come,” Remington said.  “The
more he pleads, the more resistant she shall be.”

     Skye stood up and brushed herself off,
passing Nicolas a coy glance as she walked away toward the water.  Remington
was concerned when the young knight rose to follow.  Jasmine, too, stood up,
followed closely by Antonius.  Together, they wandered aimlessly in the general
direction of the lake.

     With a loud sigh of satisfaction, Arik
stretched out on the vacated blanket and closed his eyes with contentment. 
“Thank God they’ve gone.  Now I can get some sleep.”

     Gaston eyed his second, his gaze moving to
Remington.  He was puzzled to see her face awash with distress as she anxiously
followed her sister’s movements.

     “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

     Remington tore her gaze away and glanced
down at him.  “Nothing, my lord,” she looked back to Jasmine and Skye.

     Gaston accepted her answer and dug into the
basket next to her, drawing forth a large green apple.  He bit into it with
gusto, chewing loudly as his gaze drifted out over the green countryside. He
was about to comment on it when he looked up at Remington and saw that she was
in the same stiff position as she had been moments earlier.  He took another
large bite of the apple and tossed it aside, rising to his feet.

     “Walk with me,” he said to Remington.

     She jerked her head up to him.  “I…uh,
where?”

     He reached down and pulled her to her
feet.  When she tried to disengage her hands from his, he firmly took one and
tucked it into the crook of his arm.  Silently, he began to walk the edges of
the lake, away from the others.

     “Why are you looking at my men like that?”
he asked.

     “Like what?” she asked innocently, though
she was looking back over her shoulder.

     “Like they are going to ravish your
sisters,” he said. “Honestly, Remi, they’re perfectly safe with my knights.”

     “It’s just that…you called me Remi?”

     He blinked at the total change of subject,
seeing that she was looking up at him with wide eyes.  “That’s your name, isn’t
it?”

     “Aye, it is,” she nodded slowly.  “But you
have never used it.”

     He shrugged.  “I have heard your sisters
call you by it,” he said.  “I won’t use the name if it offends you.”

     “Nay, it does not,” she said quickly,
offering him a small smile.  “You may call me Remi if you want to.”

     “I want to,” he looked down his nose at
her, but there was a faint smile on his lips.  “Now answer my question.  Why
are you so worried?”

     He was so tall she had to crane her neck
sharply to look him in the face.  “I would be honest with you, then,” she said
quietly.  “As I told you last night, my sisters are…compromised, thanks to my
husband.  I do not want them being hurt.”

     “Hurt by what?” he wanted to know.

     “Hurt by men who are looking for virgins to
wed,” she snapped softly.  “They are not maidens.”

     He understood, sort of.  “I am sure
Antonius and Nicolas can deal with that fact.”

     She stopped, facing off against him. 
“Gaston, purity of a bride is very important to a prospective husband.  I will
not allow your men to hurt my sisters because they fell victim to something
beyond their control.  But more importantly, if they are not looking for a wife,
I do not want them taking advantage of my sisters.  Being a whore to one man is
quite enough.”

     He crossed his massive arms in front of his
broad chest, arms as thick around as she was.  “So what would you have me do? 
Find out their intentions before I allow them to pursue your sisters? That is a
little overbearing, do not you think?”

     “Nay, I do not.” Remington said hotly. 
“You just do not understand.”

     She spun away from him but he grabbed her,
pulling her back against him.  For a brief second she couldn’t breathe as his
eyes bore down into her and her body went even hotter than it already was. 
Pressed against his chest, she wondered why her limbs tingled painfully and she
tried to pull away, but he would not let her. 

     “I understand you are overprotective of
your sisters,” he said, his voice a growl.  “You must allow them to live their
own lives, Remi.  They’ll not always have you around to champion them.”

     “I must protect them.” she insisted, a look
of desperation filling her eyes.  “I have always tried to protect them but I am
not always successful.  Gaston, I must do what I can.”

     He fully understood her fears now.  She was
entirely helpless against her husband and she hated herself for it.  His grip
on her wrists loosened and he stroked the backs of her silky hands.

     “Very well, angel,” he said softly.  “I
shall talk to my knights and find out what their intentions might be.”

     “Thank you,” she was electrified by his
gentle caressing.  She’d never experience anything so sweet, as small a gesture
as it might be.

     He gazed into her sea-crystal eyes, his
expression soft.  “Anything for you.  Anything at all.”

     Her cheeks flushed and he laughed softly,
releasing her hands but again tucking one into his elbow.

     A destrier burst through the undergrowth on
the other side of the lake and Patrick rode into view.  It took Remington a
moment to realize Rory was astride behind him.

     “Well…would you look at that?” she said
with surprise.  “He brought her.”

     Gaston watched the chestnut destrier round
the lake.  “Patrick is quite convincing when he puts his mind to it.  Lady Rory
did not stand a chance.”

     “Is that so?” Remington slanted an arrogant
gaze at him.  “Rory is fairly persuasive when she wants to be, as well.  If she
did not want to come, nothing he could have said would have convinced her.”

     “Ah, but Rory relies on brute strength to
accomplish her goals,” Gaston said.  “Patrick relies on his wits.”

     Remington’s mouth opened in outrage.  “Are
you saying my sister is stupid?”

     “Not at all,” Gaston said steadily, passing
her an amused glance from the corner of his eye.  “The fact that she had agreed
to come with Patrick proves that she has some intelligence.”

     Remington put her hands on her hips.  “You
border on slander, Dark Knight.”

     He looked at her fully.  “I told you not to
call me that.” 

     She lifted her chin defiantly, but there
was a good deal of humor to it.  “My apologies, oh Devil’s Spawn.”

     He put his hands on his hips, raising a
disapproving eyebrow at her.  “You saucy bit of baggage.  I ought to blister
your backside this instant.”

     Her defiant stance brown down in an instant
and she actually laughed at him, loudly.  He raised both eyebrows, although his
lips were twitching.  “You think it funny, do you?”

     Her eyes were bright at him.  “I think you
are funny, my lord.”

     “I am not,” he mumbled, feigning
irritation.

     “Aye, you are and you are not even aware of
it,” she let her gaze linger a moment longer before focusing back on her
sister.  “I would greet Rory, with your permission.”

     “By all means,” he let her go.

     He made his way back to Arik, still lying
underneath the tree.  He picked another apple from the basket and leaned back
against the trunk of the ancient oak to enjoy it, his gaze never leaving
Remington as she spoke animatedly to her sister.

     “You are interested in Lady Stoneley,” Arik
mumbled, his eyes closed.

     “She is pleasant enough conversation,”
Gaston replied. 

     Arik snorted, brushing a fly on his face. 
“Gaston, you have smiled more in the past few days than I have ever known you to
smile in your life.  And you are smiling at her.  And the fact that we are
here, resting under a tree when there is much work to be done, only reinforces
my suspicions.”

     Gaston munched on the apple, ignoring his
only friend.  Arik opened one eye.  “I do not blame you, though.  She’s
incredible.”

     Gaston continued to ignore him soundly,
chewing on the last of the core and throwing it away.  “Are we prepared for
Lord Brimley on the morrow?”

     “Aye,” Arik replied.  “Being the closest
baron, we received an answer from him the same day we sent the missive.  He
should be arriving by noon tomorrow.”

     “Good,” Gaston said. “Hopefully the meeting
with Brimley will establish a favorable climate for the rest of our talks.  I
want these meetings to be a mutual exchange of information, not a list of
threats.”

     Arik shrugged and rolled over onto his
side.  “’Twill be interesting to see what transpires, my lord.”

     On the other side of the small lake,
Remington screamed with laughter as Charles and Dane splashed at her.  He could
see Rory shaking her fists at the young men.  It took him a moment to realize
that Antonius and Jasmine were missing.