Chapter Eight #6
He felt Remington stiffen, turning to look at him questioningly. He gazed back at her emotionlessly.
“Ah, yes.” the man was already moving for the pretty pewter vial, inlaid with common stones. “A fine scent. I have soap and oils that are the same….”
Gaston did not let him finish. “Wrap them up, then, all of them,” his gaze moved back to Remington. “I would have my wife smelling wonderful.”
“As wonderful as she looks, no doubt,” the merchant said, busily wrapping the goods in pretty cloth. “May I say that she is the most beautiful woman I have seen today. You are a very lucky man, indeed, my lord.”
Gaston should not have allowed it; he was actually permitting himself to live a lie, for the briefest of moments. He would have given his soul to the devil for the lie to have been truth. His arms went tighter around Remington, her back to his chest, and he felt her cave into him.
“She is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen,” he told the merchant pointedly. “Not just this day, but any day.”
The merchant and Gaston began to bargain over the price, but Remington was living in a world of frozen time.
He continued to hold onto her and she continued to let him, drawing strength from his massive size and potency.
She fully realized that he was beginning to treat her like a whore, a kept woman, but she did not care.
It was no worse than being an abuser’s wife.
At least Gaston made her feel safe, honored, respected.
Her inner self, the neglected, beaten wife, demanded to be allowed the fantasy of being the Dark Knight’s wife, if only for a moment.
They left the merchant’s shop, Gaston clutching one hand and her purchased bundle in the other. She watched him as they proceeded down the street, studying his strong profile. He completely overshadowed her na?ve senses.
He caught her stare, knowing she expected answers. Honestly, he did not know what to say. Only that he wished his lies had been truth.
“Thank you for the perfume,” she said softly. “It was terribly expensive.”
“You are worth every pence, madam,” he replied, avoiding her eyes.
She was quiet a moment. “Why did you say what you did?”
He felt cornered, uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Why did I tell the man that you were my wife? Because it would have been far more complicated to explain our true relationship to him, and furthermore, it was none of his business. Suffice it to say I made up a convenient story.”
His tone was steady, almost callous, and Remington felt a tremendous letdown. Convenient, did he say? As convenient as she was to him, aching and vulnerable and hurt? She yanked her hand free of his grip and came to an abrupt halt, thrusting the cloth bundle at him.
“Here,” she said shortly.
“Here what?” he looked at her outstretched hand.
“I cannot accept this expensive gift,” she said stiffly.
He put his hands on his hips. “And why not? I bought it for you.”
Hurt was joined by anger and she began to twitch. Her stormy eyes met him. “I cannot be bought, my lord. If you will kindly take your perfume back.”
“Bought?” he repeated, growing annoyed. “Remi, what are you talking about?”
She almost threw the perfume at him but controlled herself.
A look of great pain crossed her face. “Why do you toy with me, Gaston? You kiss me, hold me tenderly, buy my lovely gifts, call me your wife when you know perfectly well our relationship will never end in matrimony,” she said softly, stepping closer to him, her eyes imploring.
“What is it you want from me? I do not think I understand your attentions.”
He was unbalanced by her words. By God, he wasn’t sure of his own feelings; how could he explain them to her?
“I…I am not sure I understand, either,” he said quietly. “All I know is that I want to be with you, I want to see you smile and hear your laughter. For the first time in my life I have found a woman I can care for and I shall be damned if I am going to lose you.”
“Lose me?” she repeated incredulously. “Gaston, I am not yours to lose.”
He gripped her shoulders, his mailed gloves biting into the soft flesh of her arm.
“Listen to me well, madam. I shall never let you go. You and I and Dane will live at Mt. Holyoak for the rest of our days and I will love you both as if you were mine in the eyes of God and our king.” His hand reached down and raised the cloth package she held.
“This was not meant to buy your favors as one would a whore, Remi. It was meant as a token of my affection for you.”
Her eyes were wide. Slowly, she shook her head. “Oh Gaston…I simply do not know. I am so confused.”
He raised her hand and kissed it softly. “So am I.”
They proceeded to the next street and met up with the rest of their party. Jasmine and Skye took great delight in the perfume as Dane latched on to Gaston again. Gaston took the boy’s hand as they went on their way.
The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully enough.
Dane purchased a puppet modeled like a jester and a wooden cart and horse.
Skye purchased ribbon for her hair and Jasmine bought a lovely quartz crystal bowl.
Only Rory could not be persuaded to purchase frivolous things, instead admiring beautiful swords with Patrick and Antonius.
Remington and Gaston hung together, yet few words were spoken between them.
As the sun was lowering in the sky, herald trumpets were heard from the direction of the arena and Dane’s curiosity was piqued.
“What’s that?” he demanded of Gaston.
“I believe the start of the tournament is being announced,” Gaston replied.
“Tournament?” he turned to his mother eagerly. “Can we go watch the tournament, Mummy? Can we?”
“I do not think so,” she said. “It has already been a full day and we must get started back home.”
Dane’s face fell. “But I have never seen a tournament. Can we just stay a little longer?”
Remington glanced at Gaston. “My lord?”
He shrugged. “I suppose we can watch a few minutes of it. As it is already, we shall be riding for an hour in the dark.”
Leaving two soldiers to guard the goods in the wagon, Gaston took Dane and the rest of the group to the tournament field.
Already, the knights were taking the field to the loud cheer of the crowd and Dane peppered Gaston with hundreds of questions, all before they even sat down.
Dane sat between his mother and the knight, his eyes wide as saucers as he watched the gaily colored knights ride by on their massive chargers.
There was a good deal of pomp and ceremony to the beginning of the competition.
Eight knights of local Yorkists houses paraded in fine armor and bright banners and the crowd in the lists roared with approval.
Remington recognized a few of the houses, including Sir Derek, and she caught on to the excitement of the crowd.
“Have you ever competed in tournaments, my lord?” she asked.
“More than I can count,” Gaston replied, scrutinizing a particular knight as he blew by.
“Did you win?” Dane asked.
Gaston smiled at the boy. “More than I lost.”
One of the knights seemed particularly interested in Remington. He ran his charger by three or four times, finally reining the snorting animal in front of their group.
“Are you promised, my lady?” he pointed his gloved finger in Remington’s direction. “I am in need of a favor.”
She did not know he was speaking to her. She looked around, at her sisters, and they all shrugged at each other. But Gaston knew exactly who the knight was speaking to and rose to his feet.
“She is,” he boomed. “Be on your way.”
The knight continued to pause in front of them. “My lord de Russe?”
Gaston had enough encounters for one day. He crossed his arms threateningly. “Who asks?”
The knight drew up his visor. “Sir Hubert Doyle, my lord. I served with you.…”
“Under Edward,” Gaston finished for him; he recognized the knight.
“Aye,” the knight smiled. “’Tis good to see you again, my lord. I heard what happened at Bosworth and I would like you to know that my support is with you.”
Gaston eyed him coolly. “You did not serve Richard, did you?” It was more a statement.
The knight shook his head. “In good conscience, I could not, my lord. I pray that you are not offended by this.”
Gaston sat back down, waving the man off with a faint flick of his hand. “Good day to you, Doyle.”
Sir Hubert closed his visor. “I apologize for my rash statement to your lady wife. I did not recognize you; in truth, I was looking only at her.”
Gaston looked at Remington; her eyes widened slightly. Lying to the merchant was one thing, by fibbing in front of her sisters and Gaston’s knights was quite another.
“I fault you not, man,” Gaston said. “She is the only woman in the world worth looking at.”
The knight gave him a smart salute and charged off, leaving Remington flushed; she did not care to look at her sisters. Dane stood up, watching the knights congregate at the end of the field.
“Are they going to fight now?” he asked Gaston.
“In a moment,” Gaston replied, looking past Dane to his mother; her cheeks were still flushed.
The tournament got off to a fast start. The first three rounds ended quickly, with the losers being unseated in the joust quickly.
Rory and Skye turned into rowdy saloon wenches, cheering and yelling their lungs out for the knights whose colors they liked best. Gaston tolerated their screaming, knowing how the cheers from the crowd always supported him, but Patrick was having jealous fits over Rory’s attentions.
Behind them, Jasmine and Antonius sat conspicuously close and snickered.
The sun began to hang low in the sky and Gaston sent a couple of soldiers to retain supper for the ladies.
The men returned with roast chicken and sweetened carrots that were quickly devoured by Dane and his aunts.
Remington did not have an appetite and politely watched the jousting bouts in front of her.