The Dark One: Dark Knight (58 page)

     “What?” Trenton asked.

     Remington put her hand lightly on Trenton's
knee.  “He captured the bull that was destroying the island of Crete; a huge,
terrible bull that was tearing up the palace and the land.  Hercules caught it
and ate it.  He also caught the huge wild boar of Mount Erymanthos and brought
it back to his older brother as a prize.  He was the strongest, bravest man in
all the world.”

     “Like my father,” Trenton said eagerly.

     Remington smiled.  “Aye, like your father.”

     “But I doubt that even I could wrestle a
wild bull and kill it,” Gaston stepped into the room casually, his face riveted
to Remington.  He smiled at the boys.  “More glory tales, I see.”

     “Father.” Trenton shot up, standing on the
bed.  “You have returned.”

     “Did you kill a lot of knights?” Dane sat
up with dizzying speed and bound to the floor.  “How many did you kill? Did you
cut their heads off?”

     Gaston gave Dane a horrified look and
patted him on the head affectionately.  “By God's Bloody Rood, Dane, 'tis much
more merciful to kill a man in a quicker fashion.  Besides, I went to keep the
peace, not put men to their graves.”

     “What happened, then?” Trenton jumped in. 
“Was it a fierce fight?”

     “Fierce enough, lad,” Gaston found
Remington's eyes again.  But I am returned, whole and sound.”

     The boys practically plowed him over in
their eagerness to hear of his battle but he waved them off politely.  He was
desperate to be alone with Remington.  “Why do not you go into the bailey and
watch Arik disassemble the troops.  Afterward, ask him to tell you of the
battle.  He is a much better storyteller than I.”

     Yelling in agreement, they tore off, each
trying to be the first through the door and squabbling when they were unable to
fit through the jamb side-by-side.  Gaston shook his head with mirth, pulling
off his gauntlets.

     “Gentlemen!” he roared lightly.  “Control
your eagerness, if you would.  Do not run down the stairs lest you fall and
break your necks, and remain on the inner wall until the troops are disbanded. 
Am I clear?”

     They responded affirmatively, still shoving
and shouting as they walked very quickly down the hall. Gaston, snickering,
turned to Remington.

     “What in the world am I going to do when
they get large enough to take me on?” he wondered aloud.  “Will every day be a
battle?”

     Her smiled faded, the fact that they were
finally alone settling heavily on her.  “They worship you, my lord.  As do I.”

     The gauntlets hit the bed and he was beside
her, his great hands on her face, pulling her to his lips for a kiss.  Their
lips, soft and warm and eager, pulled and suckled on one another until
demanding tongues insisted on being sated.  Mingling and mixing, they tasted
one another until Gaston had to stop or he would explode.  His heavy member was
already painfully engorged.

     “God, Remi,” he whispered against her
cheek.  “I missed you so. Roald told me what happened.”

     She looked at him fearfully.  “I have not
been downstairs yet.  He brought a missive from Guy.”

     “I know, angel,” he patted her cheek.  “And
I intend to find out what the messages say, but I had to see you first.”

     She forced a tremulous smile and kissed him
again.  He responded, with far more sweetness and less force.  “I missed you
terribly, too.  We had to bury Mari-Elle this morning.”

     “I suspected as much. How is Trenton
handling it?”

     She shrugged.  “He spent the day with
Charles and Dane up in Charles' tower room, blowing up things.  He is actually
doing remarkably well, considering.”

     He fingered a strand of silken hair. 
“Roald said you were holed up in my room and refused to come out, yet I find
you here with the boys as your audience.”

     She lay back, pulling him down beside her. 
With all of the armor, it was tremendously awkward, but neither one of them
cared.  “I was planning on staying in your bower until you returned, but Dane
and Trenton found me about an hour ago and demanded I tell them more stories. I
could not disappoint them.”

     He stroked her face.  “My sweet angel,
always thinking of others before yourself.”

     He kissed her cheek, his mouth drifting
lazily over her shoulders and the swell of her breast exposed by her surcoat. 
Remington soaked up every moment, feeling his strength boost her own.  She
needed him as badly as her body needed blood to survive.

     “I should tend to the envoy,” he said after
a few moments, his voice husky.  “I will send for you when I have read the
contents of the missives.”

     “You do not want me to come with you now?”

     He pushed himself up heavily, nearly four
hundred pounds of flesh and steel.  “Nay, not now. I would see this papal
liaison alone and determine his intent before I summon you.  I do not want this
man upsetting you and fully intend to tell him so.  Roald says he's a pushy bastard.”

     She sat up, watching him replace his
gloves.  “What do you suppose the missives say?”

     He shook his head.  “Honestly, I do not
know.  Mayhap it is not as bad as we both think; mayhap Henry and Guy are
merely sending their respective greetings.”  He did not believe that for a
moment, but he said it to ease her mind somewhat.  She was terribly frightened
and he did not blame her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Gaston was right.  It
was bad.  The envoy, a fat little man with a nasty attitude irritated him from
the word go, and he delivered the king's message with great flourish.  Gaston
knew he had gone pale after he read it.

     “So you see, my lord, the king supports Sir
Guy's wishes that his wife join him in his captivity. Of course, the church
supports the rights of a man to have his wife returned to him.  Sir Guy is
terribly concerned for Lady Remington's safety now that you occupy his keep.”

     Gaston struggled to maintain his
composure.  He would have liked nothing better than to wrap his hands around
the man's throat, dump him on the road somewhere, and say he never received the
missive.  But it would only delay the inevitable a bit longer, until another
envoy was sent.

     “Sir Guy only mentions his wife joining
him.  What about his son?  What about the rest of the family?  Are they to be
left in my charge? “

     “Sir Guy feels that the only true danger is
to his wife, as the spouse of an enemy.  He does not believe you will harm the
young boy,” the fat man sat heavily in a silk chair.  “The missive I carry for
the lady is her husband's explanation of his request.  May I, then, deliver the
message in person?”

     Gaston's face was impassive as he stood by
the hearth, his thick arms crossed in front of his broad chest.  “Sir Guy's
reasoning about his son makes no sense.   Surely I would harm a male heir over
his wife.  Why does not he want the boy?”

     The priest blinked.  “You have harmed the
lad?”

     “Of course not,” Gaston returned smoothly. 
“But Sir Guy's request is illogical.  Why would he ask that his wife join him in
jail?  The Tower is no place for a lady.”

     “On the contrary, my lord, Sir Guy's
accommodations are quite adequate,” the man eyed Gaston a moment.  “Why are you
reluctant in this matter, my lord?  Have you, in fact, already harmed the lady
and her son and you are therefore reluctant to admit it, lest you provoke your
king's anger?”

     Gaston snorted.  “Henry would rather slit
his own wrists that become angry with me, as you well know.  And I will refuse
Guy's request that his wife join him.  Lady Remington is serving as my
chatelaine and I depend on her greatly.  She is of far more use to me here than
locked away with her husband.”

     The priest's eyes narrowed slightly.  “You
cannot refute the request.  As papal liaison, I hold the authority of the
church to return Lady Stoneley to her husband.  As you well know.”

     Gaston did not react to the challenge, but
his eyes darkened into stormy, swirling orbs.  “And I hold the supreme
authority in Henry's military circle, not to say Mt. Holyoak.  You are foolish,
priest, to imply that your power exceeds mine.  If I wish Lady Stoneley to
remain, then remain she will until Henry himself wrests her from these walls.”

     The priest swallowed, the first waver he
had shown in the confrontation. “You would go against the church?”

     The words suddenly echoed in Gaston's
head.  If he wanted the cooperation of the church in Remington's annulment,
then it would not be wise to dig his heels in like a stubborn mule.  He would
have to comply, but it would be on his terms.

     He turned away from the priest, his mind
working calculatedly.  The only logical thing he could do was to obey the
missive and allow Remington to go to London.  But; he would escort her and he
would seek audience with Henry to make sure she was kept away from Guy until
the annulment could take place.  He would tell Henry everything and hope the
man was grateful enough for Gaston's loyalty to grant him his heart's desires.

     He turned back to the envoy, watching beads
of sweat appear on the man's forehead.  Aye, he would comply.  But he would
kill Guy Stoneley before he would allow Remington to be confined with him in
the tower.

     “Nay, I would not go against the church,”
he replied finally.  “I shall summon Lady Stoneley so that you may deliver her
husband's message.”

     He would summon her personally so that he
could tell her beforehand what the missives contained.  Fact was he was still
reeling with shock and disbelief as he made his way up to her rooms.  Not that
the request itself was unbelievable.  On the contrary, there was nothing
strange about a man requesting his wife and certainly nothing unusual that the
king supported the request.  Henry had no idea of the situation and thought he
was doing the merciful thing.  The church was merely along as a neutral party,
to make sure the request of a prisoner was enforced. No one in his or her right
mind would deny the church.

     He hit the family's wing with purposeful
boot falls, his heart constricting with pain.  Things were certainly not
working out as he had planned, but no matter; he could work with it.  After
all, everything would work out in the end the way he had planned, so it did not
matter what road he took to get there.

     Remington was standing by her wardrobe,
inspecting one of her surcoats closely.  A few others were thrown on the bed.
She was clad in a luscious pale topaz silk that brought out the magnificent
color of her eyes and hair.  A pretty gold headband held her hair off her face,
showing off the sweet oval shape.  He softened visibly at the sight of her, so terribly
sorry for what she was going to have to go through.

     Her head came up and she smiled as he
entered the room.  He returned her smile.

     “What are you doing?”

     “Inspecting these surcoats for ware ability
come the winter, she said, suddenly looking irritated.  “It all started when I
changed my surcoat not a few minutes ago.  Suddenly, it looked as if all of my
surcoats were wearing poorly and then I realized I had seen a few of them on
Rory.  Do you know she has been wearing my dresses to impress Patrick?”

     He shrugged lazily.  “That may be so, but
she cannot do them justice as you can.”

     “What a terrible thing to say, Gaston. 
Rory is a lovely girl with a splendid figure.”

     “True enough, but she still cannot compare
to you.”

     She smiled shyly, hanging a dress back in
the cabinet.  “You say that because you love me.”

     “I say it because it is true,” he said
frankly.  “What do you think attracted me to you in the first place?  ‘Twas
your beautiful face and magnificent figure.  You were wearing this surcoat.” 
He reached onto the bed and fingered the emerald satin.

     She fingered the dress.  “You remembered?”

     “I will never forget as long as I live,” he
said quietly, eyeing her a moment.  “Angel, I have come from my meeting with
the envoy.  I am afraid the news is not very favorable.”

     She took a deep breath, lowering her gaze. 
“What is it?  Henry is releasing Guy, isn't he?”

     “Nay, not that.  Apparently, Guy has
convinced Henry that Mt. Holyoak under my occupation is a dangerous place for
you.  Pleading for the king's grace, he asked that you be brought to him in the
Tower and the king has agreed.  The church is here as a liaison between Guy and
myself to insure that the request is carried out.”

     She looked at him a moment, shock written
all over her face.  “Guy wants me... with him in the Tower?”

     “Aye,” Gaston replied gently.  “I have no
choice but to comply, angel, but believe me when I tell you that you shall
never see Guy.  I plan to escort you to London and furthermore intend to
delegate you to the wardship of the church until this matter is taken care of.”