The Dark One: Dark Knight (90 page)

     Feeling somewhat satisfied, and a tiny bit
vengeful, she took the long route back to her rooms.

***

     Gaston ran until his chest ached and his
head swam. The courtyard was vacant and he ran the narrow corridor to the main
entrance, only to be met with empty roads and no sign of the escort. He
stopped, breathing heavily, knowing that the escort had probably left at a
gallop, at orders to put as much distance as possible between Lady Remington
and Gaston de Russe.

     There was no way he could out-run horses.
They were long gone, and anguish swelled within him until he let out a loud
grunt of pure frustration. Weaving with exertion and agony, he stumbled his way
back down the entryway and into the courtyard. Several household soldiers
watched him curiously, wondering what the matter was, but none daring to be
bold enough to ask.

     Well and good for the soldiers that they
did not ask. Gaston's pain was seeping through his pores, gushing from his
heart and he paced circles in the middle of the compound until his breathing
slowed and he was able to maintain some sort of control. Had Henry confronted
him at that moment, he would have ripped his heart out. He could not believe
that a man he had sworn his loyalty to had tricked him.

     He would have expected this from Richard.
But not from Henry.

     Nicolas stood several feet away from him.
Gaston had no idea how long his cousin had been standing there and he did not
care. He was torn with indecision and grief.

     “I wish I could help you,” Nicolas said quietly.
“Tell me what I can do, Gaston. Anything at all and I shall do it.”

     Gaston snorted into his hands, still pacing
like a caged animal. Then, he choked out a loud burst of laughter. “Anything at
all,” he repeated, muttering as if he were talking to himself. “Kill Stoneley!
Kill Henry! Kill the whole goddamn church!”

     Nicolas watched him pace, his eyes
glittering with concern. He'd never seen Gaston come close to losing his
control, ever, and he was scared.

     “Do you want me to follow Remington and see
where they take her?” he asked steadily.

     Gaston did not say anything. He continued
to pace and twitch, running his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture.
At some point, de Tormo joined Nicolas, and the two men watched the Dark Knight
walk off his pent-up fury.

     Gaston's mind was a black jumble of rage.
He still was not entirely capable of forming a coherent thought, but he caught
sight of de Tormo's robes from the corner of his eye.

     “Did you know about this treachery,
priest?”

     De Tormo looked confused. “What do you
mean, de Russe?”

     Gaston stopped and looked at him. “The ploy
to separate me from Remington so that Courtenay's men could take her away.
Well?”

     De Tormo gazed into Gaston's stormy orbs.
With everything the two of them had been through, with all of the threats and
emotions, he had never once feared the Dark Knight. But at this very moment,
looking deep into the man's soul, he was afraid of him. All he could read was
death.

     “No, Gaston,” he said quietly. “I knew of
no such betrayal.”

     Gaston's ashen face was as tight as the
head of a drum. He had stopped his pacing, but his whole-body was still
twitching. “Can Remington get an annulment without Guy's consent?”

     “I doubt it,” de Tormo replied. “The
circumstances would have to be extreme, to say the least.”

     One second Gaston was several feet away.
Within the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of the priest, glaring
down at him.” You do not call beatings, rapes and the like extreme? What of the
devil worship?”

     De Tormo took a step back; he had to.
Gaston was scaring the hell out of him. He fought to keep his fear down and
mull over the possibilities of what Gaston was suggesting. “It is extreme, I
shall grant you. Mayhap... mayhap if the lady's sisters and family testified to
Guy's cruelty, and if we could possibly secure witnesses that had first-hand
knowledge of his brutality, the testimonies would weigh heavily enough that the
church would advance the annulment without Guy's agreement,” he met Gaston's
gaze seriously. “That is the only possibility I can think of, de Russe.”

     Gaston pictured Jasmine and Skye trembling
before the papal council, confessing their darkest shame to a group of
indifferent men. He could see Dane, struggling to be brave as he told them of
the nightly beatings, the screaming, and the fear. And he could see Remington,
begging to be released from her hell.

     Instead of comfort, as de Tormo had meant
to give, Gaston went in the other direction. The past several minutes of
struggle to calm were erased in a split second and he was suddenly whirling,
making a break for the White Tower. Nicolas and de Tormo watched in horror,
knowing exactly where he was going.

     “Get de Vere!” Nicolas snapped to the
priest, taking off on a dead run after his cousin.

     Nicolas did not know how he was going to
prevent Gaston from killing Guy. He was twice his size and strength. But he
followed close behind, hearing his cousin's heavy footfalls as he mounted the
stairs on his way to the third floor cell of Guy Stoneley.

     Nicolas called to Gaston, trying to plead
with him as they raced up the stairs. But his cousin wasn't responding; he did
not expect him to.

     Gaston reached Stoneley's room ahead of
Nicolas and ordered the sentry to open the door. The panel was barely released
before Gaston was plowing into the room.

     Guy was on the other side of the room, by
the windows. He turned disinterestedly to Gaston, apparently unconcerned with
his visit. From his vantage point, he could see nothing of the workings of the
courtyard and had no idea of what had transpired.

     “Get out, de Russe,” he said. “I have no
desire to speak with you tonight.”

     Gaston did not even reply. Suddenly, he was
hurling himself across the room, grabbing Guy by the throat and tossing him
over the wide, oaken table. Guy flew like a rag doll; his body went skidding
across the floor and slammed into the stone wall. Before he could react in any
way, Gaston leapt over the table and hit Guy so severely that the man instantly
lost four teeth. Blood splashed onto the floor.

     “Your agreement,” Gaston seethed, his hand
still clenching Guy's throat. “Your agreement or I kill you.”

     Guy was struggling with the darkness that
threatened to claim him. Stars danced before his eyes and his mouth was an
agonizing, throbbing mass. “Go to hell!”

     Gaston hit him again, in the torso this
time, and Guy exhaled loudly from the force. He folded in on himself, but
Gaston still held him around the neck.

     “I will say it once more,” Gaston said
through clenched teeth. “Your agreement or your life!”

     Guy couldn't breathe; he couldn't walk, or
stand, or think either. Horrible rasping noises flushed forth from his chest as
he fought to take in air. He tried to form a word, any word, but was thwarted
each time. Finally, he managed to spit out four words. “To hell with you!”

     They were not the words Gaston was looking
for. He slammed Guy again, tossing him against the wall and then pouncing on
him.

     “Gaston, No!” Nicolas was over his
indecision as to whether or not to intervene; any more pummeling and Stoneley
would be dead. He jumped on Gaston, using all of his young strength to pull his
cousin back. “No! You shall kill him!”

     Gaston was possessed. He let go of Guy long
enough to hit Nicolas so hard that the knight staggered backward and tripped
over a chair, breaking the chair. He landed heavily, his head swimming and his
jaw feeling as though it had been crushed. But he struggled to his feet,
knowing he was the only one at the moment who could slow his cousin's rage.
Shaking off the stars that skipped before his eyes, he thrust himself forward
once again.

     Gaston had Guy by the hair when Nicolas
pounced on him. Guy was only semi-conscious and fell back to the floor in a
heap as Gaston turned his rage, full-blown, on his cousin.

     Nicolas held his own, but he never really
had a chance. Gaston's huge fists pummeled him and Nicolas found himself doing
nothing more than defending himself. There was no way to win and he knew it, so
he tried to protect his head as he staggered and tripped and fell away from the
wrath of his cousin. Nicolas fell heavily over a small table, landing with a
heavy thud. Breathing hard, Gaston swung from his incapacitated cousin and took
long strides across the floor to where Guy was beginning to raise himself on
shaky arms. He snatched the man by his shirt collar, swinging him into the
nearest chair as if he weighed no more than a small child.

     Bloodied and swollen, Guy's eyes rolled
open to find Gaston's flushed face inches from him. Blue veins were bulging on
Gaston's temples.

     “Let us try this once more,” he growled
breathlessly. “I will have your consent for an annulment or I will finish what
I have started.”

     Guy hacked up blood and mucus and spit out
a tooth, all on Gaston's arm. Gaston did not flinch; he was waiting for an
answer. And Guy was taking his leisure time in responding.

     “Answer me, Stoneley. My patience is gone.”

     “And so is Remington, else you would not be
here,” Guy said, muffled with his missing teeth and swollen mouth. “You may
beat me, de Russe, torture me, and eventually kill me, but always remember that
I am her legal husband. I am. 'Tis I who legally hold what you so desperately
want, and no amount of blood and pain can change that.”

     A muscle in Gaston’s cheek twitched
involuntarily as smoky gray eyes met with ice blue. “Your agreement.”

     Guy met his eyes, his breathing slowing and
the pain beginning to increase. Several feet away, Nicolas rose to his feet
like an old man, hunched over with the pain in his torso where Gaston had
punched him. He wiped at his mouth, watching and waiting.

     “If you kill me, you shall be deemed a
murderer and you will never gain an annulment,” Guy said softly.

     “I am willing to take the risk.”

     “What of Remington? If you are charged with
murder, what will happen to her? You profess your love for her, yet you are not
thinking of her in this matter. You are only thinking of yourself.”

     Gaston's muscle twitched again. “Your
agreement, Stoneley.”

     Suddenly, Henry and John de Vere were in
the doorway, followed by several of Gaston's men. Christopher Urswick and Uncle
Jasper followed closely.

     “Gaston!” Henry bellowed. “Let him up!”

     Gaston did not react for a moment; he was
still hunched over Stoneley in the chair, his arms braced on the arms, trapping
his prey.

     “Damnation, Gaston, I said let him up!”
Henry moved forward, grabbing Gaston's arm.

     De Vere put both arms around Gaston and
pulled him back, but not without a great deal of effort. It was like trying to
move a wall.

     Henry gazed down at Stoneley and shook his
head regretfully. “Gaston…”

     “I did it, my lord,” Nicolas suddenly
interjected, moving forward so that all could see his wounds. “I fought
Stoneley and Gaston separated us. I did it... because of what he's done. I was
protecting my cousin.”

     “And you are protecting him now,” Henry
said plainly, grabbing one of Gaston’s bloodied hands. The knuckles were raw
and torn. Your loyalty is commendable, young de Russe. But I well know what
happened here tonight, and I furthermore expected Gaston to deal me more of the
same when he finished with Stoneley.”

     Gaston, still in de Vere’s grip, kept his
gaze averted. Henry studied his most powerful knight remorsefully. “I thought
it would be better this way, Gaston. I honestly did not enjoy deceiving you. I
merely thought a quick removal, minus the painful good-byes would be better for
you both. If the tooth is aching, is it not better to extract it rapidly and be
done with it?”

     Gaston did not answer, although he felt
somewhat better. He had never truly believed Henry had betrayed him, but he
wondered. It seemed as if his whole world was unbalanced, and he was not sure
of anything anymore, except his feelings for Remington.

     Henry passed a glance at Stoneley, grossly
swollen. “I suspect you have me to thank for your life this night. I can see
that the Dark One was quite efficient.”

     “That may be, my lord, but he still did not
gain what he set out to obtain,” Stoneley replied, looking at Gaston's profile.

     Henry's face hardened. “Then I can see I
must do the bargaining. Well, out with it, then. What are your terms for an
annulment agreement, Stoneley? And do not waste my time with haggling. Spit it
out.”

     Guy looked up at Henry, seeing the other
important men in the room. Men he had fought against, despised. But to actually
be negotiating with Henry brought a whole new meaning to the game and he felt
most powerful, in spite of his aching body. He shifted in his seat.