The Dark One: Dark Knight (39 page)

     “Tell me you were not lying to me,” she
whispered desperately. 

     “I have never nor will I ever lie to you,”
he breathed against her.

     “Tell me you shall never tire of me and
take another lover,” she begged softly.

     “There is not a woman in this world that
could compete with you, my angel,” he whispered.  “I will never tire of you. 
Ever.  I swear to you on my very soul.”

     She put her arms around his thick neck and
he tumbled forward into the grass, pulling her atop of him, but all the while
his mind was working furiously.  She wanted to marry him, to bear his children,
to be his for eternity, and he wanted the same thing.  But there were two
obvious problems that had to be solved before that could happen.  He found he
was willing to do anything at all.

     Her cheek was nuzzled against his scratchy
face.  “I am sorry, Gaston.  I shouldn’t have been so angry or accusing.”

     He stroked her hair.  “You have had a most
trying day, madam.  I am not sure how rational I would be after having been
abducted.”

     She rose up to look at him, brushing her
lips against his cheek.  “But I am terribly crazy.  Did not I warn you of
that?”

     “You did not, but it’s too late to do
anything about it now,” he was pleased with her attempted humor, relieved that
her tears were fading.

     She smiled weakly and his heart thumped
against his chest as he arched up his neck and pecked her on the nose.  “Do you
really want to be my wife, Remi?”

     Her smiled faded.  “More than anything on
this earth.”

     He studied her a moment, brushing a stray
lock from her face.  “The problem would not be Mari-Elle,” he said
thoughtfully.  “The problem would be Guy.”

     “Problem?” she repeated.  “What are you
talking about?”

     He raised an eyebrow and sat up, pulling
her onto his thighs.  “I could give Mari-Elle Clearwell and the majority of my
wealth for her cooperation.”

     She wasn’t following his reasoning.  “Cooperation
for what?”

     “A divorce,” he said.  “I am sure with
enough money, she would grant one willingly.”

     Remington looked at him as if he had just
voiced his desire to walk on water.  “A divorce?  Gaston, it’s impossible.  The
church will not allow it.”

     He raised an eyebrow.  “You forget, angel,
I have Henry on my side.  With enough petitions and donations, anything is
possible.”

     For the first time, a light of hope rang in
her eyes.  She couldn’t even bring herself to believe it was possible.  “Truly,
Gaston?  Do you think so?”

     He nodded his head.  “As I said, anything
is possible.  But it is not just Mari-Elle, it is Guy.  I sincerely doubt he
would consider divorcing you.”

     Remington bit her lip in thought.  She knew
Guy better than anyone and she knew that a divorce was simply out of the
question.  Unless….  “Mayhap he will grant me a divorce in exchange for being
released from prison.”

     Gaston looked sharply at her.  She searched
his eyes hopefully, seeing that he was indeed considering that possibility. 
“If I wished it, then I am sure Henry would grant it.  After everything I have
done for the man, he owes me.”

     She dared a timid smile. “Oh, Gaston, do
you think it might be possible?  Truly?”

     He looked set.  “There is only one way to
find out.  I will speak to Mari-Elle, and then I will go to London to speak
with Henry.  And I can assure you that I will not take no for an answer.”

     She put her hand to his face and he kissed
her palm.  “You would do this for me?”

     He smiled faintly.  “Anything for you.  And
I would also do it for my purely selfish reasons, of course.  You promised me
ten sons, and mayhap a few daughters who favor their beautiful mother, and I
would have ever man in England to know me for my gorgeous wife instead of my
dark reputation.”

     She blushed at his words and he kissed her
sweetly, listening to her soft giggles as opposed to her soft sobs.  She was so
terribly easy to please and he loved to make her smile.

     “Come now, we must be going,” he said after
a moment, although he could have kissed her for the remainder of the night. 
“Dark will be upon us soon and I’d like to catch up to my troops.”

     She stood up and he rose beside her, so
tall and strong and proud that her heart swelled with happiness and she caved
into him.  Gathering bits of armor, he put his arm around her and led her over
to where Taran was grazing against a line of trees.

     Her gaze lingered on Derek’s dead form a
moment as Gaston paused to retrieve his helm; the young knight’s men had
cleared out long ago and had failed to take his body with them.

     “He really believed he was saving us from
you,” she said softly. “I wish you had not killed him.”

     He glanced impassively at the dead man. 
“His fate was sealed the moment he touched you.  But I will send a few of my
soldiers back to retrieve his body and return it home, if you wish.”

     They reached Taran and the horse nickered
softly at Remington.  She put her hands on the silk muzzle and Gaston fussed
with his saddle.  “His father will be devastated,” she said regretfully.  “Derek
was his only son.”

     “It is not as if the man will be my only
enemy in Yorkshire,” Gaston replied lightly, reaching out to take her around
the waist.  “By God, if you aren’t a tiny thing.  My fingers overlap one
another when I encircle your waist.”

     “I am not small, you are just large,” she
said as he lifted her onto the saddle.  “Massive.  Monstrous.  Huge.”

     He gave her a wry smile.  “Very well, I get
the point.  And you do not have to be nasty about it.”

     “Nasty?  Me?” she said innocently as he mounted
behind her.  “Perish the thought.”

     He grinned, slapping his helm on but not
locking it closed.  “You are not like your sisters or your wicked cousin who
puts nails in chairs, are you?  And who was it that referred to your sisters as
man-eating?”

     Remington’s smile faded.  “Derek.  He
always called them that.”

     Gaston gathered Taran’s reins.  “Are they
really?  Should I warn my cousins?”

     She felt her humor return with his question
and giggled softly, her only answer.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

     Mari-Elle was waiting for him on the steps
to the castle as the army entered the outer bailey.  He could see her through
the inner gate and he let out a silent curse.  Patrick suddenly appeared. 

     “I tried to discourage her, Gaston, but she
would not listen to me,” he said.  “In fact, she is most enraged that you
personally rode out to rescue Lady Remington and her sisters.”

     Gaston handed Remington down to Patrick and
dismounted, keeping his eyes averted from his wife.  “Damn,” he muttered.  “Well,
I suppose I’d better get this over with.”

     “Wait, Gaston,” Remington said softly. 
“Are you planning to throw her out?  Mayhap that is not so wise.”

     He raised an eyebrow at her; they were a
couple of feet apart, an entirely proper distance, but he felt her heat like a
roaring fire.  The entire way home his loins had been painfully engorged for
want of her.  But with Mari-Elle watching, he was thankful for the span between
him and Remington.

     “Explain,” he ordered softly, loosening his
gauntlets.

     Remington glanced discreetly, making sure
no one was within ear’s length.  “You said you wanted her to be cooperative…I
do not believe she will be so cooperative if you throw her out, household and
all, and tell her she is unwelcome.  Were you to show her a bit of tolerance
before you ask for her agreement on a most serious matter, her mood might be
more receptive.”

     He let out a long sigh, showing his great
reluctance at her suggestion.  “Remi…” he scratched underneath his hauberk. 
“You simply do not know what you are asking, angel.  There is too much between
Mari-Elle and I for me to
tolerate
her.  She would be suspicious.”

     “I think she is suspicious already,”
Remington looked to the tall woman without turning her head.  “Mayhap you had
better introduce us and we shall continue this conversation later.”

     He looked over his shoulder and saw that
Mari-Elle was crossing the inner bailey toward them.  He straightened as she
drew close, feeling the familiar hatred filling his veins.

     Mari-Elle was looking quite closely at
Remington and Gaston stepped forward, almost between them.

     “I am pleased to see you safely returned,
my lord,” Mari-Elle said, her gaze intense on Remington.  “So I see I was
correct with my first observation of this young lady; she was not a serving
wench after all.  Lady Remington, I presume?”

     Remington curtsied quite respectfully. 
“Lady de Russe, ‘tis an honor.  You will please forgive me for my deception
last night, but I usually serve meals to the men of Mt. Holyoak and I had no
idea how you would react to such knowledge.  It gives me a better opportunity
to see to their satisfaction, if you will, by serving the meal myself. I
thought it would be easier if I dressed inconspicuously in servant’s garb so
that you would not feel uncomfortable.”

     Well said, Mari-Elle thought, although she
did not believe her for a moment.  “I see,” she said coolly.  “And what about
the song?”

     Remington hoped her cheeks did not flush
bright red.  “I apologize if you were offended, but when you live with men whose
sense of humor can be bawdy at best, unfortunately you respond in kind.  We are
unused to fine ladies in our midst at Mt. Holyoak.”

     Gaston was immensely pleased at her
explanations and manners towards his wife, and it only served to deepen his
feelings for her.  He struggled to keep the prideful look from his face.

     Mari-Elle still did not believe her,
although the excuses were entirely plausible and respectful.  She raised an
eyebrow at her imperiously.  “You had better become quite used to me, Lady Remington. 
I am the lady of the keep now and there are certain rules of decorum we adhere
to,” she turned to her husband.  “Might I have a word with you, my lord
husband?”

     Remington was sure she had used the word
‘husband’ simply to prick her.  Yet her motive seemed not to be pushed by
jealousy; jealousy was an extremely readable emotion and Remington could sense
none.  But she did sense possessiveness.

     Gaston looked at his wife with veiled
contempt.  “Lady Remington is still chatelaine, madam, until I say otherwise,”
he jabbed his wife back in Remington’s defense.  “And I will join you in the
solar in a few moments, after I have seen to the settling of my men.”

     Mari-Elle dipped her head courteously.  “As
you say, my lord,” she passed a glance at Remington.  “I see that you have
suffered no ill effects from your kidnapping.  Was it, in fact, a kidnapping? 
Or were you simply trying to escape my husband?”

     Remington could sense nothing but hatred
from the woman, cold and black and it made her skin crawl.  Patrick, Jasmine,
Nicolas and Skye walked past them at the moment and Mari-Elle turned her
attention to them as Remington was forming a reply.

     “Patrick, Nicolas, I am pleased to see you
returned safely,” she said.  “Lady Margaret and Lady Theodora will be pleased
that you are maintaining your health so that you may return to them whole.”

     It was a blatant, vicious statement. 
Jasmine, surprisingly, did not react, but Skye’s eyes widened.

     “Aren’t your cousins married yet, my lady?”
Patrick said, his jaw tensed.  “Surely they are old maids by now.”

     Gaston hid a smile of pleasure at Patrick’s
response, but Mari-Elle merely laughed.  “You silly boy.  How can they be
married if they are promised to you?”

     Patrick maintained his composure, praying
Jasmine would do the same.  “I do not recall any promise to Lady Margaret, my
lady.  She was mildly amusing and occasionally interesting, but beyond that I
have no use for her.  If you will excuse us.”

     He pushed his brother and Jasmine and Skye
onward, out of Mari-Elle’s range.  Mari-Elle smiled and shook her head.

     “Men never do keep their promises, do
they?” she said more to herself than to anyone else.

     Gaston’s patience with the woman was at an
end.  “Inside, wife.  I will speak with you later.”