The Dark One: Dark Knight (30 page)

     “To the Devil with her,” Gaston snapped,
his helmet sailing into the wall. “I shall kill her before I allow her to shame
Remington.” He swung around unsteadily, moving for the door.  “That goddamn
bitch isn’t going to invade my sanctuary and ruin my life any more than she
already has.  I shall kill her first.”

     “Gaston,” Arik grabbed his liege.  “Get
hold of yourself, man. Remember Trenton.”

     Gaston stopped suddenly, his mind working
furiously.  “My son,” he murmured.  “She brought the boy and I will thank her
for that, but she leaves this day.  I do not want her here any longer than
necessary.”

     He charged out of the solar and ran
headlong into Remington and her sisters as they directed the soldiers carrying
the material in from the wagon.  His heart lurched painfully at the sight of
her but he reined himself sharply; his first instinct had been to reach out and
grab her.  Instead, he called to her politely.

     “My lady,” he said steadily.  “Might I have
a word, please?”

     Remington eagerly went to him and he swept
his arm in the direction of the solar.  Following her into the room, he closed
the door softly behind him.

     Remington turned expectantly to him, her
angelic face alive with happiness.  He couldn’t help but smile back and took
her in his arms.

     She never thought she would like to be
held, but she craved his arms around her.  It was as if a whole new world had
been opened for her, a world where Gaston was the center of her life.

     He continued to hold her for several long
moments, smelling the perfume he had given her and remembering last night as
the most powerful emotional event of his life.  He was greatly shaken by the
news of his wife’s arrival and simply needed to hold Remington to orient
himself.  Strange, he found he could think with incredible clearness embracing
her softness.

     “I have received some news, angel,” he said
softly, relaxing his grip enough to look in her face.

     She was concerned.  “What news?  Has
something terrible happened?”

     His jaw ticked.  “Terrible to you and I,
indeed,” he said. “Arik has informed me that my wife and son arrived here at
Mt. Holyoak yesterday while we were at the fair.”

     Remington’s jaw dropped.  She stared back
at him with utter disbelief for a moment before trying to pull away from him. 
He held her tightly, pulling her into a crushing embrace once more.

     “Nay, my angel, do not leave me now,” he
whispered urgently.  “I need you more than ever.  We must be strong together
and I will greatly depend upon your strength.”

     He felt her relax, her arms going fearfully
around his neck.  “Oh, Gaston.  Why is she here?”

     “I do not know,” he kissed her hair and
released her, moving away to compose himself.  “But I intend to send her home. 
She is not welcome here. This is your home; and mine.”

     Remington was deeply shaken. She watched
Gaston tick angrily, running his fingers through his hair to slick it back, his
face taut.  She could see how terribly upset he was and realized that she did
indeed need to be strong through this; he would have enough to deal with
without her whining and crying.  She knew what she was getting into from the
very beginning; he was a married man.  But she never imagined she would have to
deal with his wife so soon.

     “What would you have me do then, my love?”
she asked quietly. “How can I help you?”

     He looked at her in the midst of his pacing
and thinking.  “What did you call me?”

     She looked puzzled for a moment.  “I called
you ‘my love.’”

     He leaned forward on his arms, bracing his
hands on the desk.  His eyes were intense.  “Am I?”

     She smiled at him, shyly, and lowered her
gaze.  “I suppose you are, Dark One.”

     He actually chuckled in the midst of his
catastrophe. “You walk a fine line, madam. Granting me with the greatest gifts
in one breadth and insulting me the next.”

     She raised her glance coyly.  “I granted
you a gift?  I do not understand.”

     He raised an eyebrow.  “Did you mean what
you said?  Am I your love?”

     She nodded without hesitation.  “Aye,
Gaston, you are.”

     “Then that, madam, is the greatest gift of
all the world,” he said softly.  “Nothing in my life will ever mean more to me
than that.”

     She was tremendously touched by his words
and felt her cheeks flushing.  He watched her through tender eyes, a wonderful
moment in the middle of his living hell.  He would remember it always.  They
gazed at each other a moment, absorbing the intensity of their feelings for one
another. 

     “Now,” he continued quietly.  “As for what
you can do, you will take to your rooms and stay there.  Keep Dane with you; I
do not want him leaving the family wing.  Nor your sisters and cousin, either. 
They are not to leave that second floor corridor until I say otherwise.  Do you
understand me?”

     “Aye, Gaston,” she nodded, although already
she was thinking on disobeying him.  She was tremendously curious to see this
woman, his wife.

     He nodded shortly.  “That’s my angel,” he
came around the desk and put his hand on her arm.  “I shall have Patrick escort
you and your sisters upstairs and you will stay there.  I shall come and see
you later, after I have talked with Mari-Elle.”

     She nodded obediently and moved for the
door, thinking their talk was over.  His hand, however, tightened around her
arm and he pulled her back into his consuming embrace.

     Remington found herself gazing into his
smoke-hazed eyes, devouring her, and she wrapped her arms around his thick
neck.  His lips nibbled her ear, her cheek, her nose, before finally
encompassing her soft lips.  His kiss brought back memories from the night to
her mind and quickly, her passion was aroused.  She opened her mouth wide to
him, eagerly plunging her tongue into his mouth as he had done to her, tasting
his essence.

     He wanted to take her again right then, but
he knew he could not.  Reluctantly, he pulled back and spanked her
affectionately on the behind.  She grinned and straightened her surcoat and,
without another spoken word between them, they exited the solar.  Somehow she
knew he would make everything very well again.

     Patrick took Remington up to the family
wing.  The rest of the family, including Dane, was already there and the knight
made sure everyone was situated comfortably.  His next destination was the
tower room where Charles was holed up with his experiments; he wanted to make
sure the young boy stayed to his rooms as well.  Patrick knew Mari-Elle, and he
knew what the witch was capable of.  Keeping Remington and her small family
away from the woman was of utmost importance.

     Gaston, for his part, retreated to the
outer bailey to check the progress of his troop house.  He knew Mari-Elle was
aware he had returned and he furthermore knew she expected him to come
calling.  As an obvious sign of his displeasure, he would keep her waiting
until it was convenient for him to see her.  Additionally, the time spent would
help to calm his raging anger.  He was still quite shocked at her sudden
appearance; it was the very last thing he expected; yet he knew precisely how
to deal with her.

     With his mind focused on his immediate
future, he went about his regular duties.

CHAPTER NINE

     Remington and her sisters sat in her
spacious bedchamber as they began sewing on their new material they had
purchased at the fair.  Confined to their rooms, it was the perfect time to
work on the tedious task.

     Skye set out the patterns and did the
cutting; she was very precise and careful.  Jasmine would do the basic basting
while Remington and Rory did the more difficult stitching.  In spite of her
tomboy nature, Rory was an excellent seamstress.  Bored, Dane played by the
hearth with his new cart and horse toy.

     “Why does not he want his wife here?”
Jasmine asked her eldest sister.

     Remington shrugged, trying not to appear
too involved.  “He does not speak of her, and I did not press him.  I have no
idea why he hates his wife.”

     Rory watched her sister a moment.  “Are you
upset with this?  I mean, the woman suddenly showing up?”

     Remington focused on the material in front
of her.  “It matters not to me.”

     Rory snorted.  “Remi, we know you and the
Dark Knight have eyes for each other.  It’s no secret.”

     Remington’s head came up and she looked at
her sisters in surprise.  “What…what are you talking about?  He’s married, and
so am I.”

     “Aye, you are both married – so what?” 
Rory said.  “You hate Guy, and he hates his wife, too.  Isn’t it natural for
you two to come together since each finds the other attractive?”

     Remington did not know what to say.  She
lowered her head to her sewing.  To her surprise, Rory reached out and gently
touched her hand.  “We do not blame you, Remi, nor do we think you are wrong. 
God knows you deserve some happiness.”

     Remington kept her head lowered and tears
sprang to her eyes.  Her emotions were running so wild that she was having
difficulty controlling them of late.  Rarely, if ever, had she cried in front
of her sisters simply because she always forced herself to be the strong one. 
If the entire world was coming down around them, she wanted her sisters to look
up to her and see just how unaffected she was by everything.

     Skye crept forward on her knees and put her
hands on her sister’s legs.  “You are crying,” she accused softly.  “Why,
Remi?  What’s wrong?”

     Remington’s sewing plopped into her lap. 
“Nothing is wrong.  It’s just that….oh, nothing is wrong.  Go back to work.”

     “It’s that bitch, isn’t it?” Rory
bristled.  “She’s upsetting you simply by being here.”

     “It’s not her.” Remington retorted,
sniffing loudly.  “It’s everything.”

     “
What
everything?”  Jasmine asked
softly.  “Do you love him, Remi?”

     Remington looked stumped.  She gazed back
at her blue-eyed sister a moment, thinking of a thousand denials but not one
would come forth.  “Aye.”

     She could hear the collective sighs.  Even
Dane sat up from where he was playing on the stone hearth, his eyes wide at his
mother.

     “Truly?  You love him?” Skye gasped.

     Remington almost contradicted her statement
simply to protect herself.  She did not know why she had even confessed, but
she had.  Her shoulders slumped in resignation of what she had done, of what
was yet to come.

     “He’s the most wonderful, caring, sensitive
man I have ever known and I cannot help but love him,” she said softly.  “He’s
the man dreams are made of.”

     “But…he’s so big.  And frightening,” Skye
protested.  “God, Remi, he’s the Dark Knight.  All of England fears the man.”

     “Not me,” she said simply.  “He calls me
his angel.”

     They were all silent a moment, realizing
Remington’s admission began to open the way for a whole new world.  If she
wasn’t afraid to allow herself feelings after what she had been through, then
mayhap they should not be afraid, either.  Each one of the sisters had her eye
on a prospective knight, but they had been hesitant to move beyond simple looks
and casual words.

     “But what of his wife?” Rory wanted to
know.

     “He promised me he would send her away,”
Remington said, picking up her sewing.  “I am not worried.”

     The sisters looked at each other
doubtfully, but Remington seemed confident enough.  Since the subject was
apparently closed for the moment, they resumed their sewing.

     Dane approached his mother solicitously,
leaning against her arm.  “Is Sir Gaston going to be my new father?”

     Remington gazed into her son’s eyes.  “Nay,
Dane, I am afraid not.  I realize it is difficult for you to understand, but he
will never be your father.  Yet he will always care for you a great deal.”

     Dane looked puzzled and thoughtful.  He
turned away from Remington and went back to his toys.

     Remington sighed heavily and picked up her
sewing again.  She was glad he had not asked any more questions because,
truthfully, she wasn’t sure how to answer him.  How could she explain it to him
when she herself did not understand it?

     Someone rapped heavily on the door and Skye
opened it to find Oleg standing in the archway.  His old face was lined and
haggard as he eyed the four women.

     “The Mistress of Mt. Holyoak requests your
presence at the nooning meal, ladies,” he said.

     Remington felt as if she had been slapped. 
Her calm nerves and confident posture were rapidly fading in lieu of darker,
angrier emotions.