The Dark One: Dark Knight (117 page)

     Minutes seemed like hours, long and drawn
out as their separation drew to a close. The closer he came, the more time
expanded as if to torture him just a bit more. It was enough to drive him
insane as he approached the entrance to the castle, his desperate eyes seeking
what his heart so desperately sought.

     He did not have to look any further. As
soon as his boot hit the bottom step of the structure, a flash of scarlet silk
came bolting out of the open front door. He barely had time to look up as
Remington hurled herself at him, hitting him so hard that he grunted and
stumbled off the step.

    
“Gaston!”

     His arms went around her reflexively,
shocked at first, but transforming into wild delight. Her hair was in his face,
in his mouth, caught in the joints of his neck armor and the wonderful
fragrance of soap and wildflowers assaulted his senses. Her warmth in his hands
was the most comforting sensation he had ever known.       He had never been so
damn thankful for anything in his whole life.

     “Remi!” he gasped, squeezing her fiercely.
“Oh, God, are you all right?”

     She nodded vigorously, still clinging to
him, refusing to loosen her hold. Gaston clutched her to his armored chest,
relief running rampant in his limbs and rendering him as weak as a kitten. Yet
in the same breath, he had never felt so strong nor whole.

     He simply held her, no words between them.
Their embrace said everything that needed saying. His pain faded more and more
with each successive breath.

     He lost track of time, holding her
protectively, thanking God over and over for her safety. The feelings wreaking
havoc in his soul were indescribable.

     Somewhere, someone cleared his throat and
Gaston was aware that there were others standing about, observing the touching
scene. Reluctantly, he set Remington to stand, pulling strands of her hair free
from his armor. Much to his surprise, she was smiling at him, tears of joy in
the sea-crystal depths. As emotional as she was, he had expected days of
hysterics at their reunion and was pleased to see that she was controlling
herself. It made it far easier on him to deal with his own emotions if she were
rational.

     He smiled back, ignoring the group crowding
around them. “Are you sure you are all right, angel? He did not...?”

     She shook her head, stopping his line of
questions. “I am fine, my love. Truly.”

     His great hands were touching her face, her
hair, relieved beyond words. As long as she appeared fine and untouched, he
would not press. But when they were alone, he would know every gory detail.
There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, but they would all have to
wait. The only thing that mattered was that she was safe.

     Alex Ingilsby stood several feet behind her,
smiling openly at Gaston. When their eyes met, the baron shrugged. “She's been
rooted to the windows for the past six hours, waiting for you. When I heard her
running down the stairs, I knew of your arrival. Call it intuition.”

     Gaston grinned, patting Remington
affectionately. “I am forever in your debt, my lord. I cannot adequately
express my gratitude for what you have done for Remi and myself. Had it not
been for you….”

     Ingilsby shook his head. “I had nothing to
do with this, my lord. ‘Twas Hugh's doing, all of it, and it is he you should
thank.”

     Hubert stood at the door of the castle, his
handsome face expressionless. He had watched the entire scene unfold and had
experienced a distinct stab of... something, he wasn't sure. Jealousy? Envy?
Sorrow? Something he could not quite isolate, but it depressed him nonetheless.
When the duke's gaze found him, he tried his best not to let his confusion
show.

     Gaston took the steps, keeping Remington
clutched to his side. He walked past Ingilsby, focusing on the captain. He had
fully intended to thank the man but mere thanks seemed grossly insufficient. He
struggled for a brief moment.

     “To thank you appears quite deficient. I
should offer you my life, my wealth at the very least,” Remington hugged him
tightly and he glanced down at her dark head, returning soft eyes back to
Hubert. “I am grateful, Hugh. Never consider any request too great to ask of
me. I shall do everything within my power to repay you for your loyalty.”

     Hubert nodded faintly, humbled with the
adoration of the Dark One. ''I have always been loyal to you, my lord, since
the days of Edward. When we met at the tourney last year, I was surprised you
remembered the green young upstart, newly knighted, serving his king,” he
looked at Remington, positively glowing in Gaston's arms. “What I did, any man
would have done. It was nothing out of the ordinary.”

     “Not true.” Remington insisted, turning to
Gaston. “Guy tried to sell my services as a whore and it was only by luck that
Hugh was the prospective client. He helped me escape and fought off ten robbers
during our journey here. He is far too modest, Gaston. He's a hero.”

     Gaston looked at the knight with astonished
eyes. “Is this true?”

     Hubert swallowed, flushing slightly at
Remington's praise. “There were only five robbers, my lord, unskilled and wild.
‘Twas not a difficult match, but I worried greatly for the lady' safety.”

     But Remington was not finished with her
honors; Hubert was being far too modest in her opinion. “Two of them grabbed me
and tried to molest me, but Hugh killed them both, even after he had already
killed two attackers. He was magnificent, Gaston, truly. He is far too humble.”

     Gaston’s arm tightened on Remington,
listening to her relay the horrors of her journey. “And in Stanford-on-Avon, he
bought me when Guy tried to sell me as a whore,” she continued, looking to
Hubert. “Hugh recognized me and paid Guy a good deal, explaining that he wanted
me for several hours. It bought us time to escape.”

     Gaston looked to Hubert again, his face
taut with emotion. “There are no words to express my thanks, Hugh. I am forever
in your debt.”

     Hubert bowed awkwardly, not knowing what
else to do. He was uncomfortable and flattered at the same time. “Simply
upholding the code of chivalry, my lord.”

     It was far beyond that and they both knew
it, but Gaston kept silent. He had never been very good at expressing himself,
and left it at that.

     Even as Ingilsby led them inside, Remington
continued to relate their adventure to Gaston. He held her close, listening
intently to every word. Alex took them to the grand dining hall where a
sumptuous spread had been lain out in honor of the duke's arrival. But in
faith, Gaston had no appetite, and more so after hearing the traumatic tale
Remington was relating to him. Yet as a courtesy to his host, he sat and
accepted a full goblet of premium wine, still listening to Remington talk.

     And as she talked, he watched her face with
loving eyes, still stunned at the rapid turn of fortune. She was returned to
him, where she belonged, and he was deeply grateful to the knight who risked
his life to help her.

     Eager to be alone with her, he spent a
nominal amount of time in the dining hall before excusing them both into a
small solar near the entrance to the castle. Remington held his hand tightly,
even as they entered the room and he closed the door behind him. When he turned
to her, it was to kiss her forehead reverently.

     “God, I still cannot believe I have you
back,” he whispered. “I thought…I did not know when I would see you again,
angel.”

     She smiled bravely. “I would have found a
way to escape him.”

     He held her at arm’s length, studying her.
Really studying her. Remington gazed at him openly and watched his face darken.

     “You have a bruise on your face,” he said
softly. “Did he do that?”

     Her hand flew to her face unconsciously.
“Aye.”

     A muscle in Gaston's cheek twitched. “I
want to hear everything, Remi. Not the pretty story you gave me in the dining
hall. I want to hear every little detail of what happened. How did Guy abduct
you?”

     Her happy mood faded and she sank into the
nearest chair. “He wore a papal guard's tunic. Be sent a soldier up to my rooms
to tell me that the papal council wanted to speak with me, and when Patrick
brought me down he was waiting for me. Only I did not know it was him
until....” Her eyes filled with tears and she wiped quickly at them. “Until he
killed Patrick. I do not know how we got out of the Tower, because he knocked
me unconscious. I did not come to until we were nearly out of London.”

     Gaston's smoky eyes went to black with
rage. “He killed Patrick? You saw this?”

     She nodded, sniffling. “Guy dropped
something and when Patrick bent over to pick it up, he stabbed him.”

     Gaston clenched his teeth, absorbing the
information. He could see how upset she was becoming and put his hand on her
shoulder. “It's all right, angel. Go on with your story.”

     She told him everything, including the
beatings that seemed endless. She watched his face after she told him, seeing
the veins on his neck pump furiously. By the time she was finished, Gaston held
no particular expression although he was sweating profusely. She watched him
with eager eyes.

     He stood there a long while after she
finished and she was slowly dying inside, wishing he would scold her or rage or
react somehow. Anything but silence. It was enough to kill her.

     “Are you angry with me?” she asked in a
small voice.

     He moved away from her chair. “Of course
not, angel. Why would I be?”

     She did not believe him. She rose from her
chair, tears of anguish spilling over. “Then why do not you look at me?” she
demanded loudly. “Why do not you hold me and tell me how much you love me? Why
do not you...?”

     He spun around to her, grabbing her into
his iron embrace and pulling her hard against him. She sobbed loudly, sobs full
of humiliation and terror. He stroked her hair.

     “I am sorry, I am sorry,” he whispered over
and over. “'Tis not what you are thinking, Remi. I am simply overwrought with
the news, 'tis all, and am trying to compose myself lest I tear this room apart
with my bare hands.”

     She continued to sob, the horror she had
suppressed surfacing and demanding release. He held her tightly, his heart
smashing like fragile glass. Hot tears stung his eyes, too. “If anyone should
be angry, it should be you,” he said softly. “I failed to prevent this from
happening.”

     “How could you have foiled him?” she
sniffled loudly. “There was no way you could have known what he was going to
do. Who would have expected that Guy Stoneley would be the first man to escape
from the White Tower?”

     Gaston was guilt-ridden with impotence,
nonetheless. “I should have put more knights on guard, or mayhap more soldiers.
Mayhap I should have had my men guarding Stoneley. Oh, hell, I should have done
something more.”

     She raised her face to look at him,
regaining her control and wiping at her wet face. “You are being ridiculous,
Gaston. There was nothing more you could have done to protect me. What happened
was a mischance.”

     He gazed down into her sweet face, tenderly
kissing away her tears. “No more mischances, Remi. You shall never be out of my
sight again, for as long as you live.”

She raised an eyebrow at
him humorously. “You plan to take me into battle with you?”

     “Absolutely,” he responded without missing
a beat. “I shall make you my quartermaster. I shall not go into another
campaign without you.”

     She smiled, dashing away the last of her
tears. He smiled faintly at her, pleased to see her humor returning. But as he
saw the sweetness that was Remington resurface from her shattered shell, the
more black hatred filled him and the more he wanted to find Guy and destroy
him. How dare the man lay a hand on her, or try to sell her as a common whore.
Gaston felt violated almost as much as Remington did.

     “What now?” she asked softly.

     He touched her cheek. “You will return to
London. And I will find Guy.”

     She somehow knew this. “Do you know where
he has gone?”

     “Nay. But he had enough supporters in
Yorkshire that I am sure he is in the area, somewhere. I shall find him.”

     She was silent, thankful for the fact that
Gaston was going to kill Guy. She wanted the man dead, if for no other reason
than she would no longer be living in fear, fear that somehow he would find her
again someday and do far worse than beat her.

     Gaston eyed her lowered head, a thousand
thoughts flooding his mind. He loathed the fact that he would be breaking his
vow and sending her back to London without him, but it was necessary. He did
not want her anywhere in Yorkshire where Guy could get his hands on her again.
He wanted her far away, safe with her sisters at Braidwood until he came for
her. And after that, he promised himself, he would truly never again be
separated from her.

     He reached out a thick arm and pulled her
to him, embracing her tenderly as each was lost in their own thoughts. She
caved into him, her supple body against his hard one. She could feel his gloved
hands slowly rubbing her back, telling her wordlessly how very much he loved
her.