The Dark One: Dark Knight (59 page)

     Her brow furrowed as his words settled in. 
She was absolutely spinning with the news and found it difficult to grasp his
calm statement.  “Guy wants me with him?”

     Gaston sighed; she had not heard much, if
any, of what he had just said.  He took her in his arms, but she was stiff with
shock.

     “You are not going to be with him, Remi,
but I have to bow to the church,” he said against the top of her head. 
“Especially if we want their cooperation with your annulment.  I shall take you
to London as requested, but I will forbid any contact between you and Guy.  Do
you comprehend me, love?”

     She nodded jerkily and he held her back so
he could look in her face.  “Do you really?”

     Her wide, frightened eyes gazed back at
him.  “I will not have to see him?”

     Not if I have anything to say about it,” he
said softly, his heart aching for her.  “But even if you do have to speak with
him, I will be by your side.  I promise you that.  Tell me you shall be brave,
angel.  For me.”

     She swallowed hard, her face twisting with
pain and fright.  “I shall….I shall try.  But why does he want me with him? 
Why can he not leave me here?”

     Who knows, angel,” he sighed, holding her
tightly.  “Why the man should suddenly decide after a year that he cannot live
without you is beyond me, but I do not know the facts for certain. All I know
is that he has expressed fear for your safety now that I occupy his keep.

     “What about Dane? What about my sisters?”
she pulled back sharply, searching his face.

     “He only requested you.  Thankfully, the
rest of your family can remain safely here.”

     She fell back against him, gaining some
control over her shock.  “Oh, Gaston, I am going to be ill.”

     He rubbed her back gently.  “Not just yet. 
The papal envoy demands to see you to make sure you are whole and sound and I
told him I would bring you to him.  After you meet with him, we can both become
ill together.”

     Honestly, she was handling the news much
better than he thought she would. He had expected hysterics and was pleasantly
surprised that she was able to control herself.  Now that he had delivered his
message, he almost felt more out of control than she did.

     “You won't leave me?” she begged softly.

     “Not ever,” he said.  “I am so sorry this
had to happen, Remi.  It never occurred to me that Guy would do this.”

     “I did not even know such a thing was
allowed.  I thought once he was a prisoner, that all of his rights and
privileges were taken away,” she said with a hint of regret.

     “'Tis not unusual for special prisoners to
be given special consideration,” Gaston answered. After a moment, he released
her.  “Come on, angel. Let's get this over with.”

     He took her hand gently and led her from
the room.

     The envoy scrutinized Remington closely. 
Sitting rigid in a chair, she answered his questions with thinly veiled
annoyance while Gaston loomed a few feet away.  She did not like the look of
the priest, and she certainly did not like the messages he bore, which afforded
her little patience during his interrogation.

     Finally, after several minutes of inquiry,
he handed Remington the missive from Guy.  Gaston could see her hands shaking
as she broke the seal and he cursed silently.  To see her upset was the surest
way to provoke his temper, and at this moment it was directed at the priest. 
He was having a difficult time controlling himself as she steadied the
parchment enough so she could read it.

     “Lady Stoneley is recovering from a severe
wound, priest,” he growled. “I do not appreciate having my chatelaine upset so.

     The priest gave him a strange look.  “How
can a message from her dear husband upset her?”

     Gaston's jaw ticked but Remington glanced
up at him.  “It's all right, my lord.”

     The men went quiet as she read the vellum
once and rolled it up again.  Amazingly, her eyes were clear and her hands calm
as she laid it upon the table with disinterest.

     “And what if I do not wish to go?” she
asked pointedly.

     The priest was surprised.  “You... you do
not wish to go and live with your husband?  My lady, I find that astonishing. 
Why not, may I ask?”

     “Because I have no desire to live as a
prisoner, as he is,” she said in a clipped tone.  “I am quite enjoying my
freedom at Mt. Holyoak, where I can be with my sisters and son.  I have no
desire to go to London.”

     Gaston did not react, but he was damn
curious to see how the envoy was going to handle her refusal. Truth was, he was
feeling foolish that he had not thought of the idea himself.  If she refused to
go, he wasn't at all sure if the priest would force her.  However, since Gaston
was ordered to comply with Stoneley's wishes by decree of Henry, technically,
Gaston could physically force her to go should the church demand it and that
thought unnerved him.

     The envoy adjusted the collar of his heavy
robe, his fat face coated with perspiration and an unholy odor emanating from
him.  Carefully, he sat in a chair several feet away from Remington, his brow
creased with thought.

     “My lady, it has been over a year since you
have seen your husband,” he said quietly.  “I spoke with him before coming here
and he confessed to me that he has missed you terribly and he is fearful for
your welfare now that Mt. Holyoak is occupied.  Are you not the least bit
anxious to see him?”

     “No,” Remington said flatly, meeting his
eye unwaveringly.  “He's a filthy bastard and I hope he rots in jail.  I am
happy to be rid of him.”

     The priest was taken aback by the bluntness
of her statement.  Then, suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to him,
his gaze moved between Gaston and Remington.

     “My lady, you do not have to say those
things because the Dark One listens.  You are perfectly safe with me,” he
leaned forward and Remington was greeted with a foul stench when his robes
shifted.  “You need not fear him with God as your protector.”

     Remington's face washed with an
uncharacteristically hostile expression. “If God is my protector, then why was
I forced to endure nine years of hell with a man who beat and humiliated me as
part of his daily routine?  If God is merciful, then why did He allow my
husband to abuse my sisters?” She rose slowly, her rage gaining steam and her
eyes riveted to the priest. “If God is my protector, then why does He sanction
my husband’s request that I join him in jail?  Speak to me not of God, priest,
for He has ignored me my entire life and I am not about to give faith in Him
now.”

     The envoy swallowed, shaken at her venomous
tone.  He opened his mouth to interrupt but she cut him off savagely.  “No! 
You will not defend Him in my presence, for as far as I am concerned, God does
not exist.” She was standing in front of him, her beautiful face full of anger
and hatred.  “Return to London, Man of God, and tell my husband that I am glad
he is moldering in Henry's Tower.  Tell him that I hope he dies a slow,
painful, lingering death, as was the one he sentenced me to nine years ago when
he married me.  And by the way, I told you I had no use for God, and I do not. 
But I do believe in Satan.  I am married to him!”

     The priest could only stare back at her
with astonishment.  Gaston, too, was overwhelmed with this side of Remington he
had not yet seen.  She was absolutely magnificent; strong, proud, distinct with
her words.  She had actually succeeded in subduing the arrogant priest,
something Gaston himself had been unable to do.

     “My lady,” the priest said hoarsely, “I
find your hatred of God unreasonable.  He is with you always, no matter that
you feel He has abandoned you.”

     “Shut up!” Remington snapped brusquely,
turning away from him.  She was completely in control of the conversation and
both men knew it.  “I will hear no more of God.  You will return to London and
inform my husband that I have no intention of joining him.  I will discuss this
no further.”

     The priest looked at her, agape, and then
glanced at Gaston.  Be met the man's eyes with a look of stone.  “I believe you
have your answer, priest.”

     The priest blinked with confusion, trying
desperately to regain control of the situation.  What had happened that he had
lost his edge, his divine jurisdiction?  When did this woman grasp the reins of
power and wrap them around his neck?  Suddenly irritated, he stood up.

     “I brought no polite request for you, Lady
Stoneley, but a command from your husband.  You are given no choice but to
return with me to London.”

     Remington turned to him, slowly and
stealthily.  After a moment, she raised a well-shaped eyebrow.  “And if I
refuse?  Do you intend to wrest me all the way back to London yourself?”

     I do not have to,” the envoy looked to
Gaston.  “My lord de Russe has orders from Henry to comply with the demand.  If
you refuse, 'tis he who will wrest you back to London.”

     The priest did indeed know the extent of
his power, and he apparently knew Gaston's role as well.  Gaston felt himself
waver inwardly, not daring to look at Remington.  He could feel her eyes on him
questioningly.

     “Is this so?” she asked him.

     He still did not look at her, his eyes
fixed to the priest.  He almost refuted, but he could not in good conscience. 
The priest was right and both men knew it.

     “Aye,” he said after a moment.  “He has
that power to order me to comply, my lady.”

     “Then you will have to tie me up, for I
shall run away if given the chance,” she said, losing her controlled facade. 
“Do it now, de Russe, or I shall run from this room and you will never catch
me.”

     He looked at her when she called him 'de
Russe’.  So coldly, so uncivilly and by God, he hated the tone in her voice!

     “Is that what you truly want?” he asked
her.  “I will do it if your threats are sincere.”

     She sat in a chair, putting her hands in
front of her as if she were preparing to be bound. Gaston watched her, his
heart breaking.

     “Can't you see she does not want to go?” he
turned to the priest, his voice gritty.  “How can you, a man of the cloth, in
good conscience force her to do something she obviously does not want to do? 
Were not her reasons good enough to warrant reconsideration on your part?”

     The priest met Gaston's gaze as rivulets of
sweat ran down his flushed face.  “What she wishes is of no concern to me, my lord. 
She will do as she is told, and so will you.”

     Gaston hardened like granite. His face
remained unreadable, but when he spoke, there was thunder in his voice.  “Be
gone from my sight.  I will send for you when the lady is ready to leave.”

     The envoy's face twitched at the tone, as
low and threatening as he had ever heard.  His haughty demeanor slackened
briefly.

     “As soon as possible, if you will,” he
moved for the door, avoiding looking at either of them.  “I have already been a
week long on this journey and we will be expected before the month is out.”

     He shut the door behind him heavily. 
Gaston's eyes were fixed to Remington.  She was staring straight ahead, her
wrists still pressed together as if awaiting the rope.

     “Remi,” his voice was a whisper.  “You
tried, angel, but 'twas in vain. Your efforts were, however, magnificent.  I
had no idea you could rouse that level of anger within your sweet little body.”

     “Bind me,” she said through clenched teeth.

     His breathing began to quicken as he gazed
upon her.  “Do not do this to me.  I love you, Remi. Everything will be all
right, I swear it.”

     As when a cork pops from a bottle of
fermented wine due to unrelenting pressure, so did Remington's nerves.  All of
the careful control she had exerted since Gaston had informed her of the
envoy's message suddenly exploded and all of the fear she had ever felt toward
Guy came slamming into her like the hard crash of a waterfall.  Fear consumed
her, ate at her, and she threw herself up from the chair and propelled her body
against the wall stacked with books.

     Screaming and ranting like a woman gone
mad, she ripped the books from their shelves and threw them every which way. 
Gaston ducked as books came sailing at him, his split second of indecision to
let her go ended.  He had to stop her before she hurt herself.

     He grabbed her tightly, but she fought
against him with more strength than he thought possible for a woman.  It was
anger, hatred, and total terror expressing themselves and within the confines
of his massive arms, he let her rant.  She pounded him, slapped him.

     “It will not work!  The church will not
listen to you and it will not work!” she screamed.  “They will force me to be
with Guy and I will not allow it.  I shall kill myself; do you hear me?  I shall
kill myself!”

     “I shall kill Guy first!” he shot back,
receiving a sharp blow to his cheekbone as she flailed wildly. “Remington!” 
Receiving no coherent response, he shook her hard. “Remi!”