The Dark One: Dark Knight (99 page)

     “Good Lord, Gaston. You nearly killed me.”

     Gaston raised an eyebrow. “With all of that
blubber to soften the blow, I doubt it. Where's Remi?”

     “I have no idea. What happened after I left
you in London?”

     “Later,” Gaston rumbled, moving past the
priest.

     His disappointment was turning into anger
as he made his way up the massive stone staircase to the second floor landing.
He took a step toward their bedchamber when a noise from the other direction
caught his attention, a baby crying.

     Gaston pushed open the nursery door, fully
expecting to see Remington seated with one of the twins. The only adult face
that greeted him was Skye, and she hopped up from her seat in surprise.

     “Gaston.” she gasped. “I did not know you
were....”

     “Where's Remi?” he interrupted.

     “I... I do not know, in your rooms,
mayhap,” Skye stammered. Gaston still made her nervous, even though she knew in
her heart that he was completely harmless to the female sex.

     In a chorus, Adeliza and Arica suddenly
began to wail. Having heard two words from Gaston's lips was all it took to
wake them. Indeed, they knew their father.

     His anger abated and he went to their
cribs, cooing like all new fathers. Skye watched him, amazed at the speed with
which his expression went from hard to soft. He picked Arica up; the baby's
face a mirror of his own as they smiled at each other.

     He held the baby around her torso; the only
thing visible was her head and arms, and her legs. She kicked her legs
vigorously in response to his smiles and whispered words, drooling all over his
wrists.

     “God help them, they are looking more like
me,” he bemoaned lightly.

     Skye smiled, picking up Adeliza so she
would not scream herself ill. “Remington was saying that this morning. They
have your eyes.”

     He turned to Adeliza, bending over to
nibble on her fingers. “Poor little things. Not to have their mother's
magnificent color.”

     Adeliza grinned. “But they have her smile
already; broad and magnificent.” he announced with satisfaction, looking back
at Arica. “Oh, lord, Skye. I swear that I cannot tell them apart. How horrible
of me; I am their father, after all. Shouldn't I be able to distinguish my
daughters from each other?”

     Skye shrugged. “They are as two peas in a
pod. But there is a trick Remington uses; look at Arica when she smiles. See?
She has a tiny dimple in her left cheek.”

     He looked closely. “Ah. She does indeed.”

     He kissed the babe once more before laying
her back down. Briefly turning his attention to Adeliza, his mind began to
return to the whereabouts of the girls' errant mother.

     “I must find Remi,” he said, moving for the
door. Arica began to scream again and he shrugged helplessly at Skye, who waved
him on.

     Once again, he set out for their bedchamber
at the end of the corridor. If Remington was not there, then he would tear
apart the whole bloody castle until he found her.

     His anger had returned by the time he reached
the door. Slamming it open, he stomped into the spacious bedchamber.

     “Remi!” he bellowed.

     He received no answer, but he caught
movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning sharply, he was met with a
figure dressed entirely in white. White, fine silk that was absolutely
transparent, provocative and enticing, covering all but not concealing. His
anger melted into liquid fire.

     “Greetings, my lord,” Remington said
seductively.

     He was actually speechless for a moment. He
found himself drawing in a long, appreciative breath. “You... you did not meet
me in the bailey.”

     She smiled, making his heart thump madly in
his ribs. “I thought I would greet you here. Properly.”

     He watched her, frozen, as she approached.
Her hair was unbound, cascades of curls flowing to her waist. He'd never seen
her so beautiful.

     Remington stopped before him, her face
upturned and gazing at him with such a seductive expression that he felt his
knees go weak. By God, he had missed her.

     “I am pleased,” he managed to choke out. “You
look incredible, Remi. When I last left, you were....”

“I know,” she
interrupted softly. “As fat as a cow.”

     He shook his head, reaching a hand up to
remove his helm. “Nay, love, you were not fat. You looked every bit a new
mother.”

     She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well put.”

     He smiled, his gaze raking over her. “We
were speaking of something else not a moment ago. Ah, yes; you were preparing
to welcome me home.”

     She returned his smile, standing on her
toes and snaking her arms behind his neck. “So we were.”

     He pulled her to him, all hard armor and
mail, but they both knew the gear would come off momentarily. “Make me a warm
welcome, then.”

     She lifted her mouth for a kiss and he
instantly responded, but she stopped just short of meeting his lips. She lingered
a moment, feeling his body quivering with anticipation, and they both smiled at
her 'torture'.

     “Welcome home, my lord.”

     Their mouths met with a furious clash of
passion, lips fusing intensely. Her fingers entangle themselves in his inky
hair, feeling the sweat and strength of the strands. He was gripping the back
of her head with his gauntleted hands and they both laughed when he tried to
remove them, entangled, in the silken web.

     “I should not have done that,” he said,
unwinding a curl from his index finger.

     She smiled, reaching out to unlatch his
breastplate. In less than a minute, his armor was off and they were both going
to work on his clothing, their desire doubling by the second. By the time he
removed his breeches, Remington had already removed her filmy robe and was
lying on the bed, completely naked, demanding he hurry.

     Her eyes raked him hungrily, drinking in his
beautiful body. “Gaston, is it possible you have grown larger since we were
last together? I do not remember you being quite so... muscular.”

     He ripped the breeches free of his feet.
“Fifteen more pounds of beef, angel. All I did was work myself ill during the
time we spent apart. It kept my mind off you.”

     She had not the chance to respond. Suddenly
he was on her, their naked skin touching for the first time in months. They had
not made love since she had been three months pregnant with the twins, and
Gaston's breath was shaky as his hands roved her newly luscious body. He
couldn't touch her fast enough, tenderly enough; he couldn't get enough.

     Her breasts, so round and plump and
engorged, drew his mouth and she moaned softly with the sensitivity. He kneaded
her breasts, somewhat surprised when milk dripped forth.

     “I am sorry... did I hurt you?” he
whispered, concerned.

     She smiled, running her finger to catch the
drops, and then plunging her finger into his mouth. “What does it taste like?”

     He'd never seen a more provocative action;
a painful jolt of pure lust shot thought his body. All of his resolve to go
slow fled like a puff of smoke.

     “Sweet,” he said huskily. “Like you.”

     She cried out softly as he suckled her
hungrily, low groans of pleasure rumbling from his throat. He kneaded and
suckled, finally trailing down her slightly rounded stomach to her satin
thighs. His actions were almost rough, firm, and she encouraged him lustily.

     “Oh, damn,” he suddenly muttered.

     “What?”

     His mouth came up from her fleshy mound,
his eyes glazed with passion. “I...brought something for us to use.”

     “Brought what?”

     He looked hesitant, almost at a loss for
words. His fingers probed her fleshy lips, stroking her, before he answered.
You almost died with the twins and…Remi, I would rather have no more children.
I do not want to lose you, angel, not even for the sake of heirs. We have two sons
and two daughters. Our family is complete, I think.”

     She looked at him curiously. “No more
children? You would not want a son from me?”

     He touched her face, his hand shaking. “Oh,
angel, a son would be the greatest gift. But I will give it up if it means
losing you. Do you understand what I am saying?”

     She did; sort of. “But just how do you
intend to prevent me from conceiving again? Gaston, I conceived the twins
within a few weeks. We happen to be potent together, my love.”

     “There is a woman in London who makes
pessaries,” he said softly. “She guarantees that it will prevent pregnancy. I
paid a good deal of money for them.”

     “A pessary?” she repeated. “I have heard of
them. What are they made out of?”

     He was stroking her thighs, running his
hand over her belly. Coltsfoot. Bayberry. And other things; I did not ask.”

     “Where are they?” she asked.

     “In my saddlebags,” he laid his great head
on her torso.

     She raked her fingers through his hair.
“You are not leaving to go and get them,” she grabbed hold of the hair, yanking
him up sharply to look at her. “Take me.
Now.
”

     He looked hesitant for a brief moment, but
she smiled and wrapped her legs about him. He wanted to protest; to bid her
wait until he could dress and retrieve the pessary, but the words would not
come. He wanted her so badly that he couldn't wait, either.

     Bracing his arms on either side of her
body, he arched into her. She cried out softly and he thrust again, shuddering.
She was so terribly tight that he swore he was elongating as her walls clutched
him, drawing him inward. He thrust again, and again, before he was finally
seated to the hilt. Beneath him, Remington was moaning softly with pure
pleasure.

     They rocked together, pelvis' meeting with
force. Remington's legs gripped him tightly, her nails biting into his massive
arms. She clung to him, moving with him, feeling their heat take flight like a
racing fire.

     It wasn't long before they were cresting
together, the waves of pleasure rolling over them like ripples on the surface
of a lake. The ripples faded, the pleasure blanketing them in a warm glow.
Gaston held Remington tightly, his face buried in her hair.

     “I wasted my money buying those damn
pessaries,” he mumbled.

     She smiled, snuggling against his huge
body. “Nay, you did not. What is this one time out of the rest to come? By the
way, how do I use them?”

     “You put them inside you - thusly,” he took
his index finger and shoved it upward, and then he grinned at her. “In fact, I
may do it for you.”

     “You may have to,” she made a face of
displeasure. “I do not think I want to stick my finger – thusly.” She made the
same motion and they both laughed.

     They settled into comfortable positions, he
holding her tightly, and she pressed up against him as if she were a physical
part of his body. It had been so long since they had been together as this, and
each one savored it.

     The afternoon passed, closing in on dusk.
Remington dozed lightly in his arms, never so content as she was at that very
moment. Gaston stroked her back absently, staring off into the room, not
thinking on anything in particular. He was simply enjoying the feel of her, the
smell of her. He was enjoying
her
.

     “What happened in London?” she asked.

     He thought she was asleep. Shifting her
slightly, he gazed down into the sea-crystal eyes. “Let's eat supper first, and
then we will discuss it later with de Tormo.”

     She sat up. “Why do not you want to tell me
now? What happened?”

     He signed. “Remi, we have just spent a
wonderful afternoon together. Do you really want to spoil it with talk of the
papal council?”

     “Am I getting my annulment?”

     “Not at the moment.”

     “Did they deny me already, before I have a
chance to speak?”

     “No, they did not deny you. In fact, you
and de Tormo and I will have to speak on the future testimonies,” he ran a
finger up her soft arm. “I told the archbishop and the legate that Guy worships
the devil. They were most outraged, of course, and I believe if we can convince
them that Guy is the devil's disciple, then you shall have your annulment.”

     “Truly?” her face lit up with hope.

     He smiled faintly and touched her cheek.
“Truly.”

     She suddenly bound out of bed, hunting for
her clothes. “Well, get up. We must eat and meet with de Tormo. And when do we
leave for London?”

     He snickered, rolling to his side and
propping himself up on an elbow as she paraded about, collecting garments. His
flaccid manhood began pulsing with life again at the sight of her nude body,
nubile and round.