Chapter Six #3
Jasmine blinked. “Uh…behind us, my lord,” she said. “Up the stairs.”
Skye looked mortified but supported her sisters’ explanation. “Aye, she is. Up the stairs.”
He nodded curtly and they scattered like chickens. Raising his eyebrow at their curious behavior, he took the narrow flight of stairs to his immediate right.
Remington saw the shadow on the wall and pressed herself flat against the opposite wall, shushing her giddy companions harshly.
Poised with their buckets, they waited for the shadow to grow closer.
They were so caught up in their joke that they failed to notice the distinct sounds of armor approaching until it was too late.
Remington caught sight of the armored boot in time to halt her own assault, but she was too late to stop Dane and Charles. They let the water fly and Gaston walked right into a downpour.
For a moment, no one moved. Remington’s bucket clattered to the floor in absolute horror as Gaston shook his head in one quick movement, splattering water on the stone walls. His eyes rolled open slowly and he focused on Remington.
“May I ask what I did to deserve that attack?” he asked, his voice like rolling thunder.
Remington began to shake, from her wet dress and from fear. “My lord, pray forgive. We thought you were my sisters.”
“I see,” he said evenly, running his fingers through his hair to slick it back. “No wonder they directed me up the stairs.”
“They did?” Remington asked, her heart sinking. “Oh, my lord, I am so sorry. Had we but known it was you….”
He wiped his eyes, noticing she was soaked and the wet dress left very little to the imagination. “What are you doing?”
Remington was miserable. She waved her son and cousin back up the stairs, hoping they would escape the Dark Knight’s wrath. “Seeking revenge,” she said hopelessly. It sounded silly, even to her.
“Revenge on your sisters for getting you wet?” he motioned to her dress.
“Nay, Sir Nicolas did this,” she said, noticing that his eyebrows shot up with surprise. She continued quickly. “But they had thrown water on him first. He was seeking retribution and thought I was them.”
Dane and Charles were almost to the top of the stairs and Gaston let them go; he was not interested in the boys. He was focused entirely on Remington for several reasons, one being that she looked entirely delicious in the clinging dress.
“And he threw water on you?” he clarified.
“Aye,” she answered, defeated.
He nodded slowly, eyeing her a moment before turning as if he were going to descend the steps. Instead, he opened his mouth.
“Nicolas.” he bellowed, so loud it echoed off the walls and nearly scared the wits from Remington.
“Please, my lord, do not punish him,” she pleaded, moving timidly towards him. “It was a mistake.”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “Go change your surcoat. I understand you wish to speak with me, and you shall. After I deal with my knight.”
“Sir Gaston,” she said. “Sir Nicolas did nothing wrong. He was simply attempting to dispense justice with my sisters. An eye for an eye, as it were.”
A chill shot up his spine when she said his name. Her voice had a soothing, sensual quality, anyway, but when she spoke his name, it was like an open caress. He turned his full attention to her.
“I understand your explanation, but it does not excuse his behavior,” he said, trying not to stare at the pert breasts almost directly in his face. “If you will excuse me, then.”
She looked so sad that he almost gave into her and it shocked him.
He gave in to no one, man or woman, King or challenger.
Her huge eyes were staring back at him and he found his attention drawn to her lips; shaped like a budding flower and nearly the color of a peach.
Surely they tasted as well, too. He found himself fighting an overwhelming urge to kiss her.
But she lowered her gaze and turned away, making it much easier for him to fight off his urge.
He watched her ascend the remainder of the stairs, watching the sway of her bottom as it tantalized him.
By God, there was nothing about that woman that did not taunt and tantalize him into insanity.
Unused to dealing with such a temptation, he found himself distracted and moody, unfortunately for Nicolas.
*
Remington changed into a cotton surcoat of shell pink and let her hair from its net, running her fingers through the rapidly drying locks. In the heat, she was dry in no time and waited nervously for Gaston to come calling.
Aye, he made her nervous, but it wasn’t so much because she feared him anymore.
It was more the way he made her feel when he looked at her, a strange shakiness that she did not understand.
Her heart thumped wildly and her knees quaked when he trained those smoky gray eyes on her, mysterious and veiled, yet inquisitive at the same time.
It was difficult to describe and even more difficult for her to understand.
It never occurred to her that he was handsome.
He was just a man and she had never looked at a man in those terms. The fact that his raw masculinity reached out and embraced her like a glove never occurred to her either.
She was far too fearful to allow any of those ideas into her head.
Too well trained to ignore the obvious in light of self-preservation.
It wasn’t long before there was a knock at her door. She opened it to old Eudora, bustling in with an armful of linens. Remington let out a sigh and sank into a chair.
“Heard what happened, Missy,” Eudora said, busying herself. “Jasmine and Skye are still missing.”
Remington made a wry face. “As well they should after what they did.”
“Mayhap so,” Eudora replaced the covers on the down pillows. “I also heard that the Dark Knight punished one of his knights for watering you. Sent him to the vault, to Lady Rory’s cell.”
“What?” Remington shot off the chair. “He put Sir Nicolas in the same cell with my sister?”
“Aye, he did,” Eudora said. “Told him that they had both better come out of the vault smiling come morn or he would do something drastic.”
Remington was outraged. “Better both be…now what in the hell did he mean by that?”
“Exactly that,” Gaston entered the room, eyeing the old woman. “Be gone.”
Eudora dropped the rest of her linens and scampered out. Remington faced him, almost hysterical. “Please explain yourself, my lord.”
He slanted her a glance and moved to the wine decanter against the wall. Pouring himself a full cup of wine, he turned to face her calmly.
“I did not send Nicolas to the vault to assault your sister or do her harm,” he said evenly.
“My philosophy is simple; the conflicts originally started between Rory and Nicolas, and they will end with Rory and Nicolas. I expect them to make peace with each other before the night is through or I will take matters into my own hands.”
“There are no conflicts,” Remington insisted. “Since when are practical jokes conflicts?”
“They are not – yet,” he said. “Throwing water and sabotaging bathtubs are one thing, but they could quickly escalate into something more sinister. I do not want people of this keep taking sides if someone ‘innocently’ gets hurt.”
She put her hands on her hips irritably. “My sisters have always been like this. ’Tis simply the way they are. I do not think you can change their nature.”
“I am not trying to change their nature, my lady, simply curb it a bit,” he said steadily.
“Are you against fun, then?” she demanded respectfully.
“There is a place for everything,” he answered her, yet gave her no answer at the same time. “Now tell me, what was it you wished to speak to me about?”
Remington studied him a moment before answering. “Rory. I wanted to ask you to release her this day, but I can see that I would be wasting my breath to do so.”
“You will see her tomorrow,” he said. “Was that all?”
“Aye,” she replied. “I am so sorry to have bothered you. And I am so sorry that you had water thrown on you, since you have no sense of humor.”
He looked at her, hearing her taunt. No one taunted him except Arik. “I have a sense of humor, properly placed.”
She raised her eyebrows as if she did not believe him. “As you say, my lord.”
“I do,” he insisted. “But I do not make a fool of myself.”
Her gaze softened somewhat. “I could never imagine the Dark Knight a fool. Any man who would think so is dead now, I am sure.”
“How true,” he dipped his head gallantly to thank her for her confidence. “You are wise as well as beautiful.”
Her smile vanished. His smile vanished, too, as he watched her turn away from him abruptly.
“I will make sure Jasmine and Skye are well aware that you have forbidden them any further pranks,” she said, her manner clipped. “I am sure you have other duties to attend to, my lord, and I will take no more of your time.”
He crossed his arms, observing the stiff back. “What have I said?”
She looked at him, puzzled, but guarded. “I know not what you mean, my lord.”
He studied her intensely. “Aye, you do. You were smiling not a moment ago and now you are angry. What did I say to offend you?”
“Nothing, my lord,” she turned away softly.
He wanted to grab her and turn her to him but he was acutely aware that she would probably turn into a hysterical creature.
“You do not like being told of your beauty,” he said after a moment. “Why not?”
He saw her body twitch convulsively and her hand flew to her mouth. “’Tis…tis not true, I tell you. I am not angry.”
Her voice sounded strangely tight. “Aye, you are. Do not you know how beautiful you are?”
She whirled recklessly to face him, her hand over her mouth and her eyes were brimming with tears. “Do not…would you please leave me alone.”
He went to sit on the bed. He wasn’t leaving until he knew what was upsetting her so, if for nothing more than the simple fact that he would never do it again.
“Tell me, Remington,” he said gently. “Why do not you like to hear of your beauty?”