The Dark One: Dark Knight (52 page)

     She was lying on her back, propped up
slightly on some pillows as he sat the basin of cool water down beside her. 
Pale and sweaty, she eyed him suspiciously.

     “What are you going to do with that?” she
demanded.  He unlaced the front of her shift, but was thwarted from removing it
completely because it only loosened to her abdomen.  She frowned.

     “Surely you cannot be thinking to...” she
was cut off as he grabbed hold of the shift and tore it straight down the
middle, opening it completely.  She gasped with surprise and he grinned at her.

     “Do not worry,” he told her.  “I am merely
going to bathe you, not ravish you.  Although on second thought, the latter is
not a half-bad idea.”

     “Gaston!” she admonished, though she was
pleased with the attention.  She'd never been bathed by a man before.

     He gave her a wink and gingerly removed her
right arm from the sleeve.  She lifted her left arm and he pulled the other
sleeve off, his gaze raking her seductively.  She raised an eyebrow at him in
disapproval, knowing his thoughts before he even voiced them.

     Clearing his throat loudly and forcing
himself to focus on the task at hand, he wrung out the sponge and began to
bathe her as tenderly as a mother.

     Remington simply lay there and let him,
never having experienced something so completely caring in her whole life.  He
wanted nothing from her for his service; he was doing it entirely because of
his feelings for her.  They were his sole motivation and she was deeply
touched.

     He thoroughly and gently removed the dried
blood from her skin.  She intently watched his face, smiling at him when their
eyes would meet and then amused to see how terribly hard he was trying to keep
his attention on his task.  She could read the desire in his eyes.

     “Do not you have duties to attend to?” she
asked him softly.  “You have been with me all morning.”

     “You are my duty for the moment,” he said,
running the sponge along her flat belly.  “I have nothing urgent, nothing that
Arik and my knights cannot attend to.”

     She kept watching his face as he
concentrated on his task.  “What about Mari-Elle's funeral?”

     He did not respond for a moment.  “Arik is
seeing to the details. I am sending her back to Clearwell for burial.  I do not
want her buried here.”

     “But what of Trenton?” she asked,
concerned.  “Surely he will want to attend his mother's funeral? Will you send
him back to Clearwell, too?”

     “Trenton stays with me,” he said,
unemotionally.  “He understands.”

     She looked away as he bathed her legs, her
toes.  His attitude was insensitive at best and she found that surprising where
Trenton was concerned.

     “But…Gaston, she was his mother,” she said
after a moment.  “How can you be so cold-hearted?  Good or bad, she was still
his mother.  She had raised him from infancy and you, my lord, are practically
a stranger to him.  I think he should be allowed to see to his mother's
burial.”

     He looked at her, a long look.  Without
replying, he lowered his head again to continue his task and she grew
irritated.  How could he be so cruel to his son?  She drew up her legs, away
from him, and yanked the thin sheet over her body to cover her naked flesh.

     “I would sleep now,” she said quietly,
trying to roll to her left side.

     He watched her a moment before tossing the
sponge back into the basin.  “Do not do this.”

     “Do what?” she grunted as she fought for a
comfortable position.  “I am not doing anything, except trying to find one spot
on my body that does not ache like the devil.  Why do not you go and seek
Trenton?  I am sure he could use his father right now.”

     She closed her eyes, hoping he would get
the hint and leave her alone with her annoyance. But he continued to stand
there for the longest time and she fought the urge to peer at him from behind
her lashes.

     “Do you think that I killed her?” he
finally asked.

     She opened her eyes.  “Did you?”

     “Nay.”

     “Then I do not think you killed her,” she
replied.  “But I think you are being very hard on Trenton because of your
hatred for his mother.”

     She saw his jaw tick and he came over to
sit beside her on the bed.   His huge hand gently grasped one of hers and she
could read a flicker of dull emotion in his eyes.

     “Mari-Elle died because she was pregnant,”
he said softly.  “Her physician said the child had planted itself too high in
the womb and she bled to death.  It was coincidental that it happened in the
vault, I assure you.  I never laid a hand on her.”

     Remington's mouth fell open. “Oh, Gaston. 
Is that why she wanted to make a marriage with you suddenly? Because she was
pregnant with someone else's child?”

     He shrugged.  “Most likely.  She wanted me
to bed her so she could tell me the child was mine.”

     Remington was filled with a hatred of her
own for the woman.  Reaching up, she pulled his great head down to her bosom to
comfort him, to chase away the humiliation he was surely feeling.  If the woman
had not already been dead, she would have killed her herself.

     “My love, I am so sorry for what she has
done to you,” she whispered.  “But she has been duly punished for her sins, I
believe.  Yet I do not think you should punish Trenton for her sins as well.
Let him see to her funeral.”

     “If you think it best, then I will,” he
said, his eyes closed against her warmth.  “But I should go with him, as his
father.”

     “Of course you should,” she agreed.  “But I
do not want to leave you alone.  The remainder of Henry's troops should be here
with in a day at the most and I will not leave you with a keep full of
soldiers.”

     She smiled.  “So leave Arik and your
cousins to protect my sisters and I. They are quite capable.”

     “Of course they are, but that is not the
issue,” his head came up, his eyes locking with her own.  “I do not want to
leave you, not even for a few days.”

     She was missing his point.  “But... you
said I would be well protected.”

     “You will.  I just ...,” frustrated because
he could not find the proper words, he shook his head and reburied it in her
bosom.

     Remington tried to force him to look at
her.  “Just what?  What were you going to say?”

     He mumbled something into her skin but she
couldn't hear him.  “Gaston, speak to me. What did you say?”

     He raised his head, looking like a little
boy who had just been called upon by his instructor to recite.  “I said I do
not want you to forget about me.”

     She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You
do not wa…you would put so little faith in me?”

     “No.” he said quickly.  “I mean, I have the
greatest faith in you.  'Tis just that…oh, hell, I do not know what I mean. 
Just let me hold you for a time.”

     He pressed his head to her one more time
and her good arm lay across his broad, broad shoulders.  “You are terribly
insecure, my lord.”

     “And why not?  I have never had anything
that truly belonged to me, at least nothing I was afraid of losing,” he said
softly.

     “God, Remi, we have only known each other
for a few short weeks and already I feel as if I can't take a breath without
you by my side.  It frightens me.”

     Her arm tightened.  “You shall never be
without me.  I swear it.”

     He continued to hold her, to smell her and
feel her warmth.  Eventually her breathing became deep and regular and he
lifted his head, studying her sleeping face.  Carefully, he raised himself and made
sure the linen sheet was tucked in about her shoulders.  He was reluctant to
leave, but he did indeed have duties to attend to and while she slept was a
perfect opportunity.

     Eudora was waiting in the hall like a
vigilant dog and he ushered her in quietly, telling her explicitly where he
would be and when should she need to find him.  He wanted to make sure he could
be found should Remington need him.

     The bailey was bustling.  Henry's troops
had been sighted not an hour away and Arik was busy making preparations for
their arrival.  Gaston found his second on the inner wall, yelling down at some
men who were clearing the last of the building debris.

     “Well?” Arik asked before Gaston even came
to a halt.  “How is she?”

     “Running a mild temperature and in a
generally irritable mood, but well considering,” he replied, his eyes roving
over the newly finished team house.  “Tell them to move the timbers from the
side. I want that field clear.”

     Arik bellowed to the men again. 
“Mari-Elle's body is in the chapel.  Her servants have already prepared the
body and even now her ladies and household are holding vigilant prayer.  You
would have thought the bloody queen died the way they are carrying on.”

     “Is my son with them?” Gaston asked,
watching the activity below him.

     “Nay, I have not seen the lad,” Arik
glanced at him for the first time.  “How did he handle the news?”

     Gaston shrugged vaguely.  “Quietly.  ‘Tis
difficult to say, he leaned forward on the wall.  “I have decided to accompany
my son back to Clearwell to see to his mother's funeral.  I will leave you
here, in charge, until I return.  I shall most likely take Patrick and Antonius
with me to ride as escort, plus a few other lesser knights.  I expect to be
gone no more than four days.”

     “Four days?” Arik repeated.  “Gaston, it
will take you two days to reach Clearwell, especially with a funeral
procession.  How will you accomplish this?”

     Gaston did not like to be questioned, not
even by Arik.  “I shall leave when the funeral is over and ride hard.  It will
not take more than a day and night to return home.  Satisfied?”

     “But you shall be carrying Trenton,” Arik
reminded him.  “You must consider that.  He is not used to riding as a soldier,
Gaston.  'Twill be hard on him.”

     “He shall recover,” Gaston replied
shortly.  “He's a sturdy young man, Arik, not a weakling child.  Furthermore,
with Henry's troops settling in, I do not want Remington or her sisters
anywhere near the baileys.  And they are never, ever to be alone.  I want
knights guarding them at all times.”

     Arik wasn't really surprised by the
command, but he was against the entire idea of the women being at Mt. Holyoak
altogether.  “As you say, but I still think they would be much better off at
Halsey Manor.  I am extremely uncomfortable with them here, Gaston.”

     “I realize that,” Gaston had the same
concerns.  “But as long as they are properly protected, we will have no
trouble.  And when word spreads that…well, suffice it to say we shall have no
trouble when the men realize they take their life in their hands simply to gaze
at the women.”

     Arik did not reply as he watched
men-at-arms haul away large pieces of wood.  “What are you going to do about
Guy?”

     “What do you mean?”

     Just that.  With Mari-Elle gone, you have
one problem solved,” Arik went on casually.  “But what are you going to do
about Remington's husband?”

     Gaston did not say anything for a moment. 
He stood unemotional, massive arms folded, watching his outer bailey being
cleared.  “Petition the church for an annulment.  I have the power to obtain
one, Arik.  Do not doubt it.

     Arik looked at him, surprise written on his
face. “An annulment?  My God, you mean to marry her?  Honestly?”

     “I do,” Gaston replied, meeting Arik's
gaze.  “For the first time in my life, I know what I want. All of this time I
have always felt…oh, hell, incomplete, I suppose.  It's as if there was a void
inside me I was constantly trying to fill by fighting and soldiering.  That's
why I am the best at what I do, Arik; I have been striving to satisfy myself
since I was young, always trying to be better than I was the day before.” He
let out a heavy sigh, showing emotion for the first time as he leaned against
the parapet.  His gaze wandered up to the second floor of the castle above
him.  “I always thought I would be content when I was the best warrior in the
realm, but even that failed to satisfy this gap in my soul.  But now I have
found what I was looking for, and I intend to have her.”

     Arik looked at him, astonished.  “I have
known you since we were both seven years old, Gaston, and I have never seen you
this impassioned about anything.  God be with you if that is what you truly
desire, then.  Most men fail to achieve even a part of that within their
lives.”

     Gaston looked down over the bailey,
watching the great gates opening and watching Patrick and Nicolas directing an
entire company of men in the preparation efforts.  “I'd give this all up,
Arik.  All of it just to be able to call her wife.”

     Arik found it difficult to believe what he
was hearing; yet he was pleased all the same.  In fact, he was more than
pleased; mayhap the cold, stiff man he had known all of these years had finally
found the key of happiness.