The Dark One: Dark Knight (82 page)

     De Tormo had been quite correct in one
thing; he would have to bring another man with him when he met with Stoneley if
for no other reason, than to prevent him from committing murder.

     John de Vere had not yet left the Tower and
was more than happy to accompany Gaston. De Vere could see the banked rage in
the Dark Knight's eyes and spent the entire walk from the Queen's council
chambers to the White Tower trying to calm Gaston's fury. A wise man with a
keen intellect, he was able to force some reason down Gaston's throat so by the
time they approached Stoneley's cell door, Gaston could think somewhat
rationally again.

     Outside of the door, Gaston paused to
collect himself further. De Vere had helped him a great deal with his wisdom,
but now he felt himself start to slip again. The fact that he was actually to
face Guy Stoneley was overwhelming him.

     “Come to grips, Gaston,” de Vere said
quietly. “You will gain your ends, eventually, but not if you kill the man
first. Control yourself, as I have seen you do in battle so many times. There
is no one greater at remaining calm that you.”

     Gaston let out a hiss. “Except when it
comes to Remington. I am tremendously unstable when it comes to her and I do
not like being unstable. I feel as if I have no control over anything I say or
do, as if my words and actions are coming directly from my heart.”

     De Vere watched him for a moment, the
disturbing body language of a man his size. “A suggestion, if I may, Gaston.
Detach yourself. Handle this problem as if it were Patrick or Nicolas, and not
you. Pretend, if you have to, that you have come here to plead on Patrick's
behalf. You are far too close to the situation and it is tearing you up. For
your own sanity, you must detach yourself.”

     Gaston was staring off, listening but not
looking at the earl. John wondered if he had even heard what he had said. Then,
finally, the smoky gray eyes focused on him.

     “Wisely spoken. I suppose I can do no more
than try.”

     “Good,” de Vere said quietly. “Now; shall
we meet the man?”

     Gaston paused a moment longer before
nodding his head to the sentry and the door was swung wide.

     A surge of adrenalin hit Gaston the minute
he passed through, the threshold, and he knew it was not a good sign. But he
fought it, controlled it, and his eyes came to rest on the half-naked man at
the far end of the room. The man he had learned to hate above all else, his
enemy, and his worst nightmare.

     Guy Stoneley turned around when the door
opened, his ice-blue eyes focusing intently on the two knights entering his
room. When Gaston’s eyes met with his, there was nearly a visible arc of electricity.
Each man felt as if he had been slapped and tension filled the room.

     Gaston studied Guy closely, for it had been
a long time since they had last met. The man was pure of muscle, sculpted if
not a bit thin. Gaston was almost physically impacted by the mental visions of
the man using his muscle, his strength against Remington and her sisters. He
could suddenly picture the man raping his wife and her sisters, breaking Rory's
arm, impregnating a crying Jasmine. Every evil thing had been told of the man
suddenly came pouring down on him.

     “De Russe,” Stoneley said, still on the far
side of the room. “I did not think it would take long for you to come and see
me, and I was right.”

     Gaston's hands began to twitch as he paced
leisurely into the room. Behind him, he heard the door close. All he could
think of was racing to the man and throwing him from the window by which he
stood. Black, swirling hatred consumed him.

     “You were indeed,” he managed to force out.
The bastard who had beat and humiliated the woman he loved was no more than a
stone's throw away and he was nearly wild with the idea. By God, how long had
he dreamed of meeting Stoneley and cutting his heart out?

     Stoneley smiled thinly, a humorless smile.
He walked closer, unaware or uncaring of the mortal conflict he was creating
inside Gaston.

     He'd had time to think since de Tormo had
left him. Aye, at first he was outraged at what had been suggested, not because
he cared for Remington, but because Henry wanted to take everything away from
him. But as he pondered the proposal, he became increasingly aware of the
lengths Henry would go to provide de Russe his wish and he realized that he was
at a great advantage. The church would not grant an annulment without his
consent, and Henry would most likely do anything to gain it.

     Anything.

     For the first time in over a year, Guy felt hope.
Hope that he would return to his beloved Mt. Holyoak, home to his family, such
as they were. He could live without Remington, so long as he had another whore
to take her place. But he would not let on, at least not so soon. He wanted
Henry and Gaston to stew about it to the point where they were willing to grant
him anything he asked.

     The game was afoot.

     “So you have come to plead with me to
consent to an annulment?” he jumped straight to the point; no meaningless
conversation, no pleasantries.

     A muscle on Gaston's cheek twitched
dangerously. Behind him, de Vere eyed him warily. “I have.”

     Oh, Guy was pleased to hear it.
God, how
he loved to be in control!
He sat slowly in a chair, eyeing Gaston
carefully. He was a big man, as big as Guy had ever seen, but the Dark One did
not intimidate him; on the contrary.

     “Then do.”

     Gaston almost flinched, but he steadied
himself. “I would ask your agreement in gaining an annulment to your marriage
to Lady Remington.”

     Guy sat and waited a moment, expecting
more. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Is that all? No begging, no
pleading? De Tormo said you were in love; you do not act like it.”

     Gaston cursed de Tormo under his breath.
How dare the man give Stoneley ammunition like that? Suddenly angered for
another reason, he was also instantly irritated at Guy's smug attitude.

     “How would you have me act? I have stated
my business. What is it that you would have me say that would elaborate on what
you already know?”

     Guy crossed his legs in a decidedly
feminine gesture and Gaston was enraged to see a smile playing on his lips.
Please,
God, give me strength not to kill him!

     “You have bedded her, have you not?”

     Gaston did not hesitate. “Aye.”

     Guy snorted. “You have broken two
commandments of the church. Not only did you covet my wife, but you committed
adultery, too. The church will not be happy to hear that.”

     Gaston did not reply; he continued to watch
Stoneley like a hawk, his huge body tensed. Guy's gaze was smirking, taunting.

     “What about her sisters? I trust they told
you everything.”

     Gaston released a soft sigh. “Aye, they
told me all about your cruelty and debauchery but, fortunately, I am not as
deviant as you. Let us come to the point, Stoneley. I will obtain this
annulment any way I can, including and most likely murdering you. But barring
any severe action, what do you want for your cooperation?”

     Guy's smile faded somewhat
. By God, if
the man wasn't like ice
, Gaston thought. He could see why the man had
unnerved de Tormo so. “Want? Nothing, really, except my wife to stay here with
me in the Tower. I merely want my wife.”

     He drew out the word wife, purposely
rubbing salt into Gaston's wound, reminding him that what he so desperately
sought belonged to another.

     Gaston couldn't take much more; he leaned
forward on the table that separated them and allowed his fists to pound heavily
against the table. The thump reverberated against the stone walls.

     “There is not a chance in hell that
Remington will be brought to you to stay, my lord, and the sooner you
understand that, the better for us all. You will now name your price to me and
I will do everything in my power to grant it.”

     “I have no price,” Guy's smile was gone,
his eyes like glittering ice, cold and harsh and potentially deadly.

     “Aye, you do,” Gaston said, his voice a
thundering rumble. “Name it.”

     “There is nothing to name.”

     “There is. What will gain your
cooperation?”

     Stoneley gazed at him a moment longer. “I
do not want to relinquish my wife, de Russe. Can you not understand?”

     “The choice is not yours to make. Your only
decision in all of this is what you will gain for your collaboration. You can
come away with a great deal, or you can lose your life.
That
, my lord,
is your only option.”

     Guy lowered his gaze, pondering the
statement confidently. He was very good at playing these games. “The church
will not like it that you have threatened me, de Russe. And they shall hear of
this, have no doubt. You shall never gain my wife that way.”

     Gaston straightened, his temples throbbing
threateningly. De Vere moved a bit closer to him, just in case.

     “Think on this conversation, Stoneley,” he
said after a moment. I shall return to seek your answer. And you will have an answer
for me.”

     Gaston was moving for the door; he'd had
about all he could take and was surprised he had managed to keep himself in
check so well. He was almost free when Stoneley called out to him.

     “If Remington herself were to ask me for an
annulment, I might possibly reconsider my position,” he said quietly. Like the
quietness of the wolf before it strikes. “I understand she is in London. Will
you bring her to me so that she may ask me herself, so that I may hear from her
own lips that this is what she desires and that she is not being used as a pawn
in Henry's game?”

     Gaston's hand was on the door, his knuckles
white with restraint. “As fortune would have it, she will be visiting you this
afternoon, pursuant to Henry's order and your innumerable requests. You will
see her then and she will tell you herself.”

     Guy's face actually lightened. “Ah. Then
the Tudor did not go back on his word, after all. I am pleased. 'Twill be good
to see my sweet, tasty wife again.”

     De Vere put his hand on Gaston firmly, opening
the door himself. He was not about to allow Gaston to reply in any manner,
considering they had just danced in the fire for several minutes without
getting burned. Both men knew that Stoneley was trying to provoke the Dark One.

     Guy laughed as the door was closing. “Take
her hard, de Russe. She likes it that way.”

     De Vere heard the comment and pushed Gaston
from the door, following him closely. Gaston did not protest the manhandling;
in fact, he welcomed it. He needed the additional control, for he had exhausted
his. It had taken every last ounce of strength to walk through the door without
tearing it off its hinges. His fury, unfocused, was a lethal explosion waiting
to happen.

     “Walk, Gaston, just walk,” John pushed him
again, moving him down the corridor and away from Stoneley. “You did very well.
I am pleased with you.”

     Gaston did not reply until they were out in
the hot afternoon, the bright blue sky overhead. “When this is all over, I am
going to kill him. I vow this, John.”

     “I know,” de Vere replied softly. “You can
feel his evil when you walk into the room; it grabs at you like a vise. How is
it that such a lovely woman is married to such a vile man?”

     Gaston shook his head faintly. “Betrothals
are strange things. See how mismatched Mari-Elle and I were.”

     De Vere nodded. “I suppose I should convey
my sympathies to you on her passing, but it seems to me as if it were more of a
blessing.”

     “More than you know,” Gaston replied, his
anger fading and being replaced by an empty fatigue. He felt an overwhelming
desire to hold Remington.

     They paused at the entrance to the Queen's
house and Gaston faced the earl. “I would thank you for accompanying me. The
situation is most undesirable and I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

     De Vere slapped him on the shoulder. “What
are friends for, Gaston?”

     He slipped into the door, leaving Gaston
speechless a moment. Arik had been his only friend, had not he? Gaston had
always made very sure that he had no other friends. Yet, mayhap, he had
unknowingly made far more friends that he cared to admit. After all, friendship
was painful and cloying and… by God, why couldn't he admit it? Of course he had
more than one friend. He had a whole damn country full of them.

     The revelation was startling, yet he felt a
tremendous sense of comfort in it. Had he indeed been so blind? Apparently so.

     He caught sight of Nicolas across the
compound, by the armory. He watched his young cousin a moment, being reminded
of Mt. Holyoak for some reason. And Mt. Holyoak reminded him of Remington.

     He would go and see his very best friend
this moment.