The Dark One: Dark Knight (22 page)

     She smiled and his heart thumped loudly in
his chest; he was sure she could hear it.  “I rather enjoyed it, too.  And it
should be I who thanks you for putting up with my foolish behavior when you
first suggested the dance.  Sometimes I…. well, I never much liked to dance
with Guy.”

     “Do you like to dance with me?”

     She did.  But she was afraid to admit it.
Yet he was looking at her with such warmth that she couldn’t help herself. 
“Aye, I did.”

     Gaston couldn’t help himself.  He knew he
should not touch her in any way, but he simply could not stop his hand from
moving to hers.  The moment he touched the pure, warm silkiness of it, he knew
he had to taste it.  Gazing into Remington’s wide eyes, he brought her hand to
his lips and kissed it.

     “And I like to dance with you,” he said
hoarsely.  He had such a deep voice that it all came out in a rumble.

     She couldn’t speak.  No one had ever kissed
her hand so sweetly, so tenderly.  In fact, no man had ever shown her such
consideration and gentleness.  The fire in her cheeks spread to her belly and
made her shake.  As new and wonderful as her emotions were, she was still filled
with a deeply ingrained terror of being touched.  Until this moment, she had
never been touched kindly by a man in her life.

     She wanted to take her hand away.  His lips
were still on her palm and she could feel the stubble of his face.  But she was
so electrified by his touch that she couldn’t manage to move her hand. 
Uncertainty and utter fascination were all she could seem to feel.

     He was immensely pleased when she did not
yank her hand away; he had fully expected her to bolt.  He could see that she
was staring at the bottom half of his face with an astonished expression and he
kissed her palm again just to see how she would react.

     Her eyes flew to his in surprise and he
smiled broadly, his mouth half-covered by her hand.

     “Have you never experienced something so
gentle, angel,” he asked softly.

     She shook her head honestly.  “N-never.”

     His smile faded to an ironic gesture.  “Nor
have I.”

     She stared at him a moment and suddenly
tore her hand away, stumbling back from him.  Her expression was open and
accusing.

     “You are married, my lord.” she said. 
“Master or no of Mt. Holyoak, you have no right to toy with me as such.  I am
not part of the castle as a servant or the land, or the sheep of the field. 
You may not use me as your…whore.  I will not allow it.”

     “Whore?” his brow furrowed deeply.  “Remi,
I never said….”

     “Is that what you have been planning all
along?” she accused.  “You show kindness to my son, to me, simply so my guard
will go down and you shall be able to do as you please?  I know this to be your
intention.  You are all alike, you are all….”

     She was getting quite loud and he had heard
enough.  He moved toward her, faster than she had ever seen anyone move, and
before she realized what had happened she was plastered to the bed, covered by
a massive body.

     She instantly assumed the worse and opened
her mouth to scream, but he slapped a huge hand over her lips and covered half
her face and neck.

    
My God, this can’t be happening
. 
She was more terrified than she had ever been in her life, terrified because he
was easily three times her size and weight, and she could do naught to fight
against him.  She was so badly frightened and startled that tears began to
flow.

    
No.
Her mind screamed to the
heavens. 
Please no.

    
Gaston knew her fear and regretted his actions
deeply, but he felt them to be entirely necessary. He would rather run himself
through than frighten her like this, but he knew it was the only way she was
going to listen to him.  Her ranting had grown out of control so quickly that
the only way to douse it was equally as fast.

     When her tears came, falling hot on his
hand, his heart nearly broke.  “Remington, listen to me and listen well,” he
said in a husky whisper.  “You shall not be my whore, nor anyone’s whore.  Nor
shall your sisters.  Those days are long over.  ‘Twas never my intention to
deceive you or your son and I have done nothing that was not completely
sincere.  I would never hurt you, Remi.  I swear to God I would never hurt
you.”

     Her body was relaxing underneath him and he
looked down into the sea-crystal eyes that were so capable of changing color. 

     “Do you believe me?”  After a long pause,
her head dipped again.   He removed his hand.  “I am sorry I frightened you,
but you were growing quite loud and I was afraid you would awaken Dane.” He
eyed her.  “Do you truly believe me or are you just agreeing with me because
you are frightened?”

     She was shaking; he could feel her.  “I…I
believe you.  I do not know why I should, but I do. You have not lied to me
yet.”

     “And I never will,” he replied.  Their
bodies were molded into one another and he could feel a fire beginning in his
loins; he shifted so she could not feel his rapid arousal.

     “But you kissed me,” she whispered,
obviously still overcome. 

     He made a wry face, trying to alleviate her
apprehension. “I kissed your palm, Remi.  You let those idiots Walter and Clive
do that as well.  I did nothing scandalous.”

     He was correct; he had not, and she was
growing embarrassed.  It was only right that she apologize profusely and hope
he wasn’t offended by her words.

     “Oh, Gaston, I am so sorry,” she said
earnestly. “It’s just that…I have never trusted men.  I have never trusted
anyone but my sisters.  My husband was beyond vile and I suppose I have learned
to judge all men by his actions.  I know of no other way.”

     He knew that.  His weight was shifted off
of her, yet he was still lying intimately close with Remington on her back,
gazing up at him.  The desire to kiss her on her pink lips was, once again,
overwhelming.  He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

     “The man should thank God he is in prison,
for if I ever see him, I will kill him,” he said frankly.  “What he has done to
you is more than contemptuous; it’s inhuman.  In fact, I think I shall ride to
London this night and run him through.”

     Her eyes widened but she saw he was
jesting.  A slow smile crept to her lips.  “Would you?”

     He pretended to take her request very
seriously.  “Say the word, madam, and I am bound for the Tower.”

     She appreciated his chivalry, his understanding. 
Before she could stop herself, her hand went up and stroked his cheek.  “Thank
you, my Dark Knight.”

     He froze when he felt her touch, delicate
and soft.  He resisted the urge to stroke her back.  “Do not call me that,” he
mumbled, but there was a smile playing on his lips. 
Damn, but if she wasn’t
too close.

     Remington stroked his cheek again, liking
the feel of it. Liking the feel of
him
. Unbeknownst to her, the voyage
of discovery had begun.

     Gaston felt her caresses and he lost all of
his hard-fought control.  His great head descended on her, slowly, so that she
would not be alarmed.  Ever so delicately, his lips hovered over hers and he
reverently breathed in her hot breath of life.  He continued to hold for a
brief moment, giving her ample time to state her displeasure, but he had no
such protests.

     With the most infinite tenderness, his lips
claimed her own. 

     Remington froze.  She could not form a
coherent thought as his lips suckled hers with the incredible gentleness.  He
clung to her top lip, to her bottom lip, brushing her face with his scratchy
stubble.  As paralyzed as she was with fear and uncertainty, she was not beyond
experiencing the sensations.  Soft warmth, giddy tingling filling her body like
a thousand pins pricking her, her breath coming faster and faster.  Guy had
never been so consideration, so sensitive.

     She wasn’t frightened until she felt
herself respond to him.  When she began to kiss him back, timidly, and her soft
hands found the back of his neck, he answered by fiercely winding his arms
around her slim body and pulling her against him hungrily.  His rush of
strength scared the wits out of her, and she whimpered.

     He felt her stiffen and stopped his
passionate assault.  His eyes were wide with concern.

     “What’s wrong, angel?  Did I hurt you?” he
asked in a strange, tight voice.

     She shook her head, her eyes huge with
confusion.  “Nay, Gaston, you did not…we should not be doing this.”

     “And why not?” he asked huskily.

     She looked long at him.  “Because you are
married, my lord.  And so am I.  This is wrong.”

     He loosened his grip but he did not let her
go.  Instead, one of his huge hands came up to stroke her face, her hair
tenderly. 

     “I am married in name only,” he told her. 
“The woman I married holds no place in my heart, Remi.  It was an arranged
marriage and I had no choice in the matter.  Honestly, I have never truly felt
married all of these thirteen years because I have tried my best to stay as far
away from Mari-Elle as possible.”

     She gazed back at him, feeling his
sincerity.  She wanted so desperately to believe him, to have complete trust in
his word, but she had learned many hard lessons on trusting men and it was
difficult.  Her hand came up to his face again, curiously touching the strong
line of his jaw.

     “I simply do not know what to think
anymore,” she whispered.  “I am afraid.”

     “Of what?” he demanded softly.

     “Of you,” she breathed.  “Of your touch, of
your words.  Guy taught me great distrust of the male species, Gaston.  I know
of no other way, yet when I listen to you speak and experience your actions, I
am confused and afraid because I want to have faith in you.  You are the only
man I have ever known to be kind to me.”

     His hand was still caressing her, the smoky
gray orbs glittering dully in the faint firelight.  “Guy has all but ruined
you, Remi.  I hold nothing but contempt and hatred for him and I swear to you
that all men are not like he.  There are those of us who do not hit women and
are true to their word.  If it takes me the rest of my life, I will convince
you of that fact.”

     She sighed.  “I want to believe you,
truly.  But I am still frightened.”

     “There is nothing to be afraid of,” he
whispered, brushing his lips to hers.

     She believed him.  For the moment, she
truly believed him.  Her arms went around his great neck, responding to the
sweet kisses.  She was so terribly inexperienced because Guy had rarely kissed
her, yet her natural impulses took over and she matched Gaston’s passion.  When
his tongue ran itself over her lips invitingly, she responded by opening her
mouth to him.

     She went stiff again as his tongue plunged
into her delicious depths, but her reaction was one of desire rather than
fear.  He licked and plundered and suckled her until she was gasping for
breath, completely dazed with the newness of his touch.  Her mind was a black,
curious void of passion, anticipating each new sensation with the glee of a new
bride.  Never in her life had she been so fortunate as to have experienced this
bit of heaven.

     His great hand was moving along her body,
skimming the curve of her hip and trailing up her torso with tremendous
reverence.  She could feel his fingers dancing delicately across her stomach,
moving for the ties of her robe.  He gently tugged at the knot until it
loosened, and she startled as his hand snaked underneath the folds of the
garment, his hot palm on the flat of her naked belly.

     Uncertainty shot through her at the
intimate touch, but his wonderful mouth moved to her neck and earlobes and she
forgot about his hand for the moment.  His steamy tongue licked the circle of
her ear and she quivered violently.  She vaguely remembered hearing a moan, not
realizing it was her own.

     “God, Remi, you are so sweet,” he breathed
against her neck.

     She was a quivering shell of desire,
completely lacking her own will or the power to speak.  Gaston and his
marvelous touch had made her feel more wonderful in this moment than Guy had
managed in nine years of marriage.  Had she stopped to think of it, she would
have been astonished.

     His hand was on the move again, drifting up
to the swell of her breast.  Her first instinct was to bolt away from him, but
when his fingers delicately traced the underside of her breast, she trembled
again and held her breath in anticipation of the next step.

     She did indeed consciously moan when his
fingers pinched her nipple, rolling it into a hard pellet.  Her breathing came
fast and furious as his hand closed over her entire breast, massaging it
expertly.  Hands that were causing her to melt right into the mattress.

     The robe was opened wide and he descended
on her breast with a great sigh of pleasure.  She cried out softly, her hands
entwined in his thick black hair, completely consumed with the feelings he was
causing within her.  Surely there was nothing on this earth sweeter than Gaston
and his sure touch.