The Dark One: Dark Knight (29 page)

     “I shall never leave you, angel, and you
will not be my whore,” he murmured. “‘Tis a title for a cheap woman with no
meaning to a man other than to relieve his needs. You are my lover, my life
that will never be, and the fantasy of my heart.  I never want to hear the word
‘whore’ again.”

     She sobbed louder and he kissed her to quiet her
fears and her pain.  All they knew was that they needed each other in the most
powerful way possible.

     He remained on his knees, unlatching his
armor and casting it aside.  Remington tried to calm her tears, releasing him
long enough to allow him to remove his breastplate and short hauberk.  She knew
what was coming, having never experienced it on an affectionate level before,
and she was torn between terror and eager anticipation.

     He removed his shirt and Remington studied
him; his chest was splendid, broad and beautifully muscled with a fine matting
of crisp black hair. Never had she seen anything so exquisitely magnificent.
Timidly, she reached out and brushed her fingers across his skin and he
responded by kissing her fingers fervently.  She was so curious about his chest
that she had not realized that he had removed her cloak and spread it on the
damp grass.

     He grasped her arms and lay back on the
cloak with incredible gentleness, his mouth kissing her passionately.
Forgetting about his chest, she wound her arms around his neck and responded to
his kisses with all of the nervous energy she was feeling. She could do nothing
but trust him, and trust him she did.

     He pushed her skirts up and undid the stays
of her surcoat, pulling the bodice of it down far enough to allow his hands
access to her rounded breasts. As she had remembered, his hot mouth on her taut
nipple was the most wonderful of sensations, and she bit off her moans on her
hand as he suckled her to the brink of delightful pain.

     Their passion was gaining momentum by the
moment. The more he suckled and probed her breasts, the more she writhed
beneath him and the more aroused he became. Neither one of them had ever known
such an abandoned response and it only served to excite them even more.

     They were lost in each other; nothing else
in the world mattered at the moment. Remington’s fear was gone, her instinctive
in-bred response to being touched.  She arched shamelessly into his mouth, his
hand, her body aching for everything he had to offer, everything that had been
denied her for all of these years. She had no idea that a touch could be so
sweet, a kiss so tender.  She did not even realize her tears were still
falling; now they were for her newfound joy. 

     Gaston wanted her so badly he couldn’t
think straight.  The more she responded, the more forceful he became. Somewhere
in the recesses of his mind he knew he must be careful with her and go slowly,
but that thought was blocked out by blind passion overloading his brain.  Never
in his life had he wanted a woman, much less wanted a woman as badly as his
lungs needed air, or his stomach needed food. This was what he had wanted all
of his life and had not even known it.

     He pushed his knees between her legs,
pulling her knees up with his free hands. His mouth never left her. Somehow, he
managed to undo the stays on his breeches and free his massive organ, demanding
to be sated. His fingers trailed to her inner thighs and he heard her moan
softly, although his own mouth swallowed all of her sounds. Slowly, his hands
moved up to the dark curls between her legs and delicately roved over the outer
flesh.

     Remington startled when she felt his
fingers caressing her. He did not probe her, merely touch her, and it gave her
a chance to fight down her natural fear. Guy had raped her so many times she
had lost count, and he had never taken the time with her that Gaston was. A
touch she had learned to hate was quickly turning into the most powerful
experience of her life.

     His fingers finally probed her, gently at
first, for he felt her body stiffen beneath him.  He kept on with his forceful
kisses, trying to relax her again, for he was so massively hung that she would
have to be completely relaxed in order for him to enter her.  The last thing in
the world he wanted to do was hurt her. He inserted his finger into her
carefully, hearing her gasp softly.

     “Did I hurt you?” he whispered raggedly.

     She shook her head.  “Nay, Gaston….’tis
just that.…”

     He kissed her fears, her explanations,
away.  Nothing mattered anymore except the two of them, right now.

     He pushed two fingers into her, mimicking
the thrusting rhythm that would soon be taking place.  She was unbelievably
tight, but slick as rain.  Her muscles throbbed and pulled at him and he was
near insane with his desire.  Quickly, for he was in danger of spilling himself
on her cloak, he removed his fingers and placed his manhood against her.

     Remington’s eyes flew open, meeting his
cloudy orbs.  “Gaston, I am scared.”

     He kissed her fiercely.  “I swear to you
that you will like this, angel.  I know you consider this so much hell but I
promise you that you will not after this night.”

     She gazed into his eyes, trusting him
implicitly.  He had not lied to her yet.  Slowly, her slim thighs wound around
his thick legs and her hands caressed the back of his neck.  “Show me, then.”

     He made sure he was meeting her eye when he
thrust slowly into her; he wanted to see her face, measure her reaction.  She
was so tight that it took three full thrusts to move into her, and even then he
wasn’t seated to the hilt.  Remington’s eyes widened, but she did not utter a
word.

     He couldn’t help himself; he was a
hairsbreadth away from spilling into her and refused to do it before he had
taken any pleasure with it.  Withdrawing completely, he thrust hard into her
and she gasped with shock.  He thrust again and again, feeling himself peaking
and absolutely astonished that he was climaxing so quickly.  Beneath him, he
could feel her pelvis moving against him.  It was his undoing; he blasted his
scalding seed into her with a growl of utter satisfaction.

     Remington felt him throbbing within her and
knew exactly what it meant; she only remembered Guy’s releases too well.  She
had actually been enjoying his movements and was disappointed to realize it was
over so quickly.  Yet even after he climaxed, he continued to move within her,
still full and hard.

     He wanted her to enjoy this as much as he
had and moved his hands under her hips, holding her to him as he thrust into
her.  Remington felt her body responding, the heat in her loins like liquid
fire, growing in intensity.  Every time their bodies came together it was as if
the sparks were flying at the point where they touched; she swore she could
feel them.

     He was measured and firm and she was
completely lost.  If this was what being a mistress meant, such pleasure and
comfort, then she would gladly be his mistress for the rest of their lives. 
Marriage was a horrible, cold thing; being illicit lovers was something beyond
wonderful.

     He heard her swift panting and knew she was
close to her release.  He shifted himself slightly and put his hand where their
bodies were joined, probing her taut little bud of pleasure.  Pinching the nub
between his fingers, he squeezed gently and Remington peeled off a loud
scream.  His mouth descended swiftly on hers to block out the remainder of the
cry as he felt her honeyed walls throb and suck at him as she found her
release.  From the intensity of the scream, he knew she had never before
experienced her pleasure and he was surprised and pleased; it was almost as if
she were a virgin, in a sense.

     Remington wasn’t sure what had happened. 
All that she knew was that she had felt such rapturous pleasure as she had
never had before sampled and she was dazed.  What black magic had he done to
make her feel like a boneless, warm lump of flesh?  The man had brought her
loins to a roaring blaze and then doused the fire with the most amazing
sorcery.

     He cradled her tightly and she clung to
him, trying to slow her breathing.  Her body was relaxed, warm, and comforted;
she had never felt so wonderful in her entire life.  If there was any doubt,
any reserve about loving this man, they were gone.  She wanted to talk to him,
demand to know what he did to her, but her eyes closed against his amazing
warmth and before she realized it, she was dead asleep.  And so was he.

***

     She rode in the wagon on the trip back to
Mt. Holyoak.  Dane rode with Antonius, clearing a space for her on the wagon
between Skye and Rory.  Gaston rode up ahead of them astride Taran, quite
alone, as his knights and soldiers lingered behind.

     It was a warm July morning.  The sky was
bluer than Remington had ever seen it and the birds somehow more musical.  Her
heart was light, her mood gay, and she couldn’t ever remember being happier. 
It was the most glorious morning ever.  Even though Gaston had barely spoken to
her since dawn, she did not care.  He had kissed her awake and that had been
enough.

     “You are quiet,” Rory nudged her.  “What’s
on your mind?”

     Remington shrugged.  “Not a thing,” she
said casually.  “I am simply concerned about the material we used for tents
last night; one of the bolts has a large grass stain on it.”

     “We shall wash them out,” Rory said, her
eyes falling on Patrick’s back.

     Remington saw her sister’s look and
couldn’t resist teasing her.  “So you think him magnificent, do you?  I must
say, I agree.”

     Rory made a face at her and clucked to the
horses.  “No one asked you.”

     Remington and Skye giggled.  “Do not be so
defensive, Rory,” Skye said.  “We like him, too.”

     “Men are a bother,” Rory said lamely. 
“He’s…. he’s too old, anyhow.”

     “He’s twenty-nine years,” Remington said. 
“And you are sixteen.  The ages are perfect.”

     Rory thrust her chin up and looked away, to
Remington and Skye’s delight.  They goaded and teased her the entire way back
to Mt. Holyoak.

     The drawbridge was already down as the
fortress came into sight.  Inside, the outer bailey was a far sight cleaner
than it had been the day they left, due to the fact that the troop house was
nearly complete.  All of the stones and sand were gone, the clutter vanished. 
The small party rode into the lower inner bailey and dozens of soldiers were
swarming about, taking care of the horses and charge of the wagon.

     Gaston dismounted and went to the wagon,
lifting Skye down and then turning to Remington.  She smiled faintly at him as
his hands closed around her waist and he had never wanted to kiss anyone so
badly in his whole life.  He settled for a wink.

     Arik was at Gaston’s side, his fair face
grave and Gaston was instantly on his guard.  He knew Arik as well as he knew
himself and was well aware that Arik did not get worked up for no reason.

     “What’s wrong?” he asked.  Remington was
still standing next to him, her beautiful face upturned to the knights.

     Arik did not even look at her.  “In
private, my lord.”

     Gaston snapped orders to Antonius and
Patrick to see the women safely inside and followed Arik into the castle.

     The solar was cool and dim, a refreshing
change from the heat of the summer day.  Gaston tore off his sweaty gauntlets.

     “What’s so damn impor…?” he started, but
Arik cut him off. 

     “Mari-Elle is here,” he said lowly.

     Gaston looked at him, thinking he had not
heard right.  He froze in mid-motion as he prepared to remove his helmet,
thinking he misunderstood him.  By God’s Bloody Rood, he
had
to have
misunderstood him.

     “What?” Was all he could manage to say.

     “She and Trenton arrived yesterday, late,”
Arik went on.  “It would seem that she has missed you terribly in the year you
have been gone and wrote Henry as to your whereabouts.  Henry was obliged to
tell her, of course, and as nearly as I can guess, she was on the road even
before we arrived here.”

     His chest felt as if it were in a vise,
squeezing and squeezing until he could hardly breathe.  He stared back at Arik
until the knight was uncomfortable under the disbelieving stare.  Mari-Elle was
here?  At Mt. Holyoak?  He could barely comprehend what he was hearing.

     “By all that is holy,” he mumbled, in a
hoarse whisper.  “That bitch is here?  Within these walls?”

     “I have put her and Trenton in the northern
wing, away from you and away from the rest of Stoneley’s family,” Arik replied,
eyeing his lord.  “Gaston, I know how badly you hate her and I know she is not
welcome here, but I thought you should be the one to tell her.  There is naught
I could do but make her comfortable and wait for your return.”

     Gaston stared back at him, his mind
spinning with shock.  “Remington,” he murmured, and then spoke louder.  “By
God, I have got to find her!”

     “By all means,” Arik agreed
whole-heartedly, having no idea the true meaning of Gaston’s words.  “Tell her
to lock herself in her room and stay the hell away from your wife.  Mari-Elle
knows the former chatelaine resides within these walls and is already
sharpening her fangs.  She plans to act the conquering hero’s wife to the
hilt.”