The Dark One: Dark Knight (23 page)

     “Mummy?” a soft voice floated into the dim
room.

     Gaston’s head came up, as did Remington’s. 
They looked at each other a moment before Gaston discreetly pulled the ends of
her robe together and pushed himself off of her.

     Remington sat up quickly; too quickly, but
Dane did not notice.  He also did not notice her flushed cheeks and guilty
expression.

     “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked him.

     He moved into the room, eyeing Gaston.  “I
heard you cry.  What’s the matter?”

     Remington was thankful of two things at the
moment; that her son was too young to realize what was going on, and that the
room was too dark to see the scarlet color of her cheeks.

     “Nothing, Dane,” she swallowed.  “Go back
to bed, now.  ‘Tis almost dawn.”

     Dane was looking at Gaston.  “What were you
doing to my mother?  You were squashing her.”

     Gaston was remarkably composed.  He stood
from the bed, adjusting his breeches inconspicuously.  “Where is you sword?  A
good knight never leaves his sword behind, Dane.”

     Dane’s eyes widened.  “I shall go get it
right now.”

     Gaston grabbed hold of the lad as he tried
to dash off.  “Nay, lad, do not worry about it now, but remember for future
reference.  As it is, you should do as you mother says and return to bed.”

     He directed the boy toward the connecting
door and on into the bedchamber.  She could hear him speaking steadily to her
son, coaxing him back to bed.  It occurred to her that Guy had never once
tucked his son into bed, never once used a soothing tone with him.  Over all of
her raging emotions, her heart warmed as Gaston put her son to bed with his new
sword.

     He returned to her bedchamber after a
moment, closing the adjoining door softly. 

     “He’s in bed but I doubt he shall go back
to sleep,” he said with a faint grin.   “He seems convinced that, somehow, I
was intent on harming you.”

     “’Tis all he has ever known, Gaston,” she
said softly.  “He is nearly as skittish as I am at times.”

     His features hardened.  “No longer.”

     She gazed up at him remembering his mouth
on her flesh.  A warm, fluid sensation filled her until she thought she would
slither to the floor.  It was overwhelming, wonderful and confusing.

     He met her eyes intensely, knowing what she
was feeling because he was feeling it, too.  He cleared his throat.  “I have a
few items that need tending, my lady.  I will see you after sunrise.”

     She nodded, too dazed to answer him.  Her
mind was swirling with emotions and feelings until she was dizzy with it all. 
Yet when she heard the latch unbolt, she snapped out of her trance. 

     “Rory asked me when you first arrived if I
was to be your whore,” she mumbled.  “I slapped her.  But she was right, wasn’t
she?”

     “I think we just covered that particular
area,” he said, although his tone was not unkind.  “You shall not be my whore.”

     “Then what?” she looked at him
searchingly.  “What will I be?”

     He lowered his gaze.  He couldn’t answer
her, at least not at this moment.  Silently, he quit the room.

CHAPTER EIGHT

     Thankfully, Dane had indeed fallen back to
sleep and had forgotten all about walking in on his mother and the Dark
Knight.  Moreover, this was a special day for him; his mother had promised him
that on Wednesday he could go to the Mid-Summer Faire in the neighboring town
of Ripon.  Remington had forgotten all about it until he had burst into the
middle of her bath, telling her of all the marvelous things he was going to
purchase with his coinage.

     Remington had promised him before Gaston
had ever arrived and she went to seek his permission.

     The inner and outer baileys were absolutely
abuzz with activity.  She picked her way through the obstacles, weaving a path
toward the main hovel of business, the nearly completed troop house. More than
the previous days, she was acutely aware of the soldiers’ stares upon her and
she was nervous.  Gaston’s soldiers were probably the heartiest, earthiest
troops in all of England.  Men used to the harsh realities of life and the
bitterness it had to offer.  She was scared to even look them in the eye.

     She rounded the wall and proceeded into the
outer bailey.  The closer she drew, the busier it became and she paused, trying
to discern the best possible path.  She could see a few knights here and there
and quickly decided to ask them where she could find Gaston.

     She was nervous to see him after what had
transpired last night.  He had left so abruptly that she did not know what to
think.  Was he as confused as she was?  Did he, upon reflection, decide that
kissing her had been a colossal mistake?  Her stomach was twitching so that she
had not been able to break her fast when she rose.

     Remington gathered her skirts higher as she
dodged a pile of stone in the middle of her path.  Coming to the dusty bailey
dressed in a rose-colored silk was not the wisest choice, for the hem of her
surcoat was already coated with a thin film of dirt and she tried to shake it
off as she walked.

     Suddenly a strong hand was biting into her
upper arm and she flinched, instinctively trying to pull away.

     “Yer a pretty little goat,” an older,
filthy soldier leered.  “What’s yer name, lass?”

     Angry, she tried to yank free.  “Let go of
me, you brute.”

     His grip tightened.  “That’s not very
friendly.  I just asked ye yer name.”

     Other soldiers had started to gather,
grinning lewdly and Remington was on the verge of panic.  These were not the
well-trained knights that graced her grand hall every eve; these were the
lowers, men with no manners and even less intelligence.

     “You do not need to know my name,” she succeeded
in tearing her arm away from him, but his dirty hand left an imprint on her
fine silk and she clucked at it miserably.” Get away from me, all of you.
Get
.”

     She scrambled back from the soldier as he
made another swipe at her, much to the amusement of his comrades.  But he let
her go on and she practically ran until she found one of Gaston’s knights.

     The knight was an older man, completely
bald, but with an intelligent face.  He knew her on sight.

     “Greetings this day, Lady Stoneley,” he
said.  “How may I serve you?”

     “Sir Gaston,” she asked, panting from
fright and exertion.  “Where is he?”

     “In the troop house, I believe,” the knight
strained his eyes to the structure.  “Aye, I believe I see him. Shall I fetch
him for you?”

     “Nay,” Remington did not want to be left
waiting, alone.  “Take me to him, please.”

     Without hesitation, the knight took her
elbow courteously and led her to the edges of the troop house.  Masoners and
soldiers were covered with dust from the stone, moving busily as they neared
completion of the walls.  The knight let her go a moment to seek out Arik.

     She could see Arik whirl around when the
knight whispered in his ear.  His face rippled with concern and he sent a man
in search of Gaston.  As it was, he and the other knight returned hastily to
her side.

     “Good morn to you, Lady Remington,” Arik
said pleasantly.

     “And to you, Sir Arik,” she smiled at him. 
“I must thank you for the sword you gave Dane.  He is tremendously proud of it;
he even slept with it last night.”

     He returned her smile.  “I am pleased,
then,” he replied.  “He will prove to be a bright, eager pupil.”

     Her smile faded a bit.  “I suppose.  But is
it necessary to teach boys to be men at such a young age?  I wonder at the
intelligence of such a concept.”

     “’Tis best to start them young, before they
grow older and less impressionable,” he assured her.  “Have no fear, my lady. 
I will take good care of your son.”

     She blinked and her brow furrowed slightly.
“You?  What do mean?  Are you leaving, too?”

     “Leaving?  Hell no.  I mean, no,” he
quickly corrected himself.  “I shall be here, training Henry’s troops and a
passel of young knaves like your son.”

     She tilted her head slightly.  “Dane is
staying here to train?”

     Arik smiled and crossed his arms.  “Aye, he
is.  Word came down from the master this morn.  Young Dane starts his training
come August.”

     Remington was surprised; more than
surprised -
pleasantly
surprised.  Thank God Gaston had taken mercy on
her and had decided not to send her son away.  Relief and gratitude filled her;
she must remember to thank him most properly for his compassionate decision.

     Gaston suddenly appeared at her side, his
entire body covered in a fine white powder.  She giggled at the sight of him.

     “You look as if you have been rolling in
the dirt,” she said.

     He lifted an eyebrow.  “Is that why you are
here?  To laugh at me?”

     “Nay, my lord, assuredly not,” she said,
fighting off her grin.  “I have come to ask you something.  Might I have a
moment of your time?”

    
Anything for you. 
“Of course,” he
said shortly.  “Arik, Roald, excuse us please.”

     The two knights retreated and Gaston fought
himself to keep his gaze, his manner, from turning soft on her.  It was
extremely difficult when she was smiling so opening at him.

     “I know you are busy, so I will be brief,”
she said. “I promised Dane several weeks ago that he could attend the
Mid-Summer Faire in Ripon.  The faire is today, my lord, and I would like to
keep my promise.  Will you give us your permission to go?”

     “Just you and Dane?” he asked.

     “All of us,” she clarified.  “My sisters
have been looking forward to it, as well.”

     He signed, brushing at the dust in his
hair.  “I see no reason why not,” he said.  “How far is Ripon?”

     “Eight miles to the north east, not far,”
she said.  “It is a lovely ride.”

     He looked thoughtful.  “I will assign a few
knights to accompany you. When will you want to leave?”

     “As soon as possible,” she said.  “Dane is
bouncing off the walls and I do not know how much longer I can contain him.”

     He smiled for the first time.  “Ah, the
excitement of a faire,” he agreed.  “I remember it well.  Very well, then,
gather your things and I shall send someone for you when the escort has been
assembled.”

     She smiled broadly.  “Thank you, my lord. 
Dane thanks you.”

     He allowed himself the luxury of softening,
his eyes roving over her curvy form.  Then he noticed the grimy handprint and
he reached out to touch it.

     “What is this?” he demanded, his tone sweet
one moment and deadly the next.

     She had completely forgotten about her
encounter and glanced down at the stain.  “A soldier grabbed me,” she said,
unconcerned. “I escaped him, though.”

     He looked at the dark smudge a moment. 
“Which soldier?”

     “Over there, at the corner of the inner
wall,” she pointed in the general direction, not comprehending his tone.  She
should have listened well; it was by far the most deep, threatening tone he had
yet to use.  Instead, she turned back to him.  “Do you think you will be able
to come to the faire?  Dane would love to have you with him.  Charles thinks
fairs are a silly bunch of nonsense and refuses to go, so there will be just
womenfolk to accompany my son.”

     “Show me which soldier,” he ignored her
prattle.

     As if she were slapped in the face, she
caught on to the inflection in his voice and she was  wary.  “Gaston, no harm
was done,” she said quietly.  “There is no need to punish the man.”

     He took her by the arm, gently yet firmly. 
“You will show me who lay his hand upon you.”

     She was beginning to grow frightened as she
allowed him to take her back across the courtyard.  His massive body was tense;
she could feel it.  When they drew close to the group of men she had indicated,
he came to a halt.

     “Which man?” he asked steadily.

     She was extremely hesitant to tell him, but
she had no choice.  “That one.”

     Gaston let her go and went up to the
soldier.  “You, man,” his voice was like the low rumble of thunder. “Come
here.”

     The soldier straightened, his eyes wide at
the sight of the Dark Knight.  His comrades ceased their movement, all watching
Gaston with a good deal of apprehension and a healthy fear.  And there was no
mistaking the lady standing several feet away; they all knew what was about to
happen and why.  Foreboding filled the air.