Chapter Ten #6
She took a deep breath, fighting for control. A thin smile played on her lips. “So that I may be your whore? Really, Derek, how hypocritical! You accuse me of being another man’s lover, yet you would have me do the same thing with you.”
Derek’s face went tight. “You need me.”
She looked surprised. A guffaw of laughter bubbled from her throat. “Need you? Why on earth do I need you?”
“Because I am the only one who would care for you, treat you as you should be treated. I’d take care of your sisters, too, so that they would never know want or need.
” He was truly sincere and approached her with open hands.
“Why can you not understand, Remington? I am saving you from hell so that your life may be happy.”
“With you,” she supplied drolly.
“Aye,” his eyes glittered. “With me.”
She found the entire conversation difficult to believe.
She had known Derek since they had been small for they had been distant neighbors.
He was a few years older than she, always an irresponsible lad, but he had been very friendly to her.
She never imagined he had been harboring feelings for her because he had always been absorbed in himself.
She put up her hands as if to shoo him away. “This is ridiculous. Please take me home.”
“I will not,” he said sharply. “You are coming with me.”
“I do not want to come with you!” she yelled at him.
He watched her as she marched back to her sisters, her back rigid and her fists clenched.
God, why was this so difficult? When he had set out two days ago, it had been to rescue damsels in distress.
Of course, one of the damsels was meant for him.
But now he found himself holding unwilling females who did not want or need his help.
It was madness, and certainly not worth his life.
“I am trying to save you, you silly wench!” he held out his arms in exasperation.
“I do not want to be saved!” she shouted.
He had had enough of Lady Remington and her frail sister. His jaw clenching in determination, he took a step toward her menacingly. They were all going whether they wanted to or not.
A thin wail pierced the air and suddenly there was an arrow in front of Derek, planted in the ground not six inches in front of him.
Derek blanched and took a step back, but suddenly another arrow sailed in behind him and plowed into the earth.
Paralyzed by the obvious message, Derek began screaming orders for his men to prepare for battle.
Remington turned her attention in the direction the arrows had come from and was astonished to see soldiers and knights bursting through the trees, riding side by side as they thundered toward them.
Derek’s knights were running to the mounts, the soldiers were fumbling with their weapons, and Derek seemed frozen to the spot.
Riding alone ahead of the line of men was the unmistakable form of the Dark Knight.
Remington yanked her sisters to their feet and they plastered themselves against the trunk of the huge oak, standing back as Gaston’s men engaged Derek’s sadly outnumbered force. Cries and the clash of metal resounded through the thick air.
Gaston was riding straight for Derek, a wicked-looking crossbow in his left hand.
Taran thundered over the earth like an unnatural being, snorting and kicking up great clumps of dirt.
But Gaston never wavered in the saddle, never flinched, and Remington could see that he wasn’t even gripping the reins.
He was reloading the crossbow as the horse crossed the clearing.
Derek bolted, straight for Remington. She caught him out of the corner of her eye and tried to escape him, but he grabbed her savagely and hauled her up against his body. Gaston knew a shield when he saw one and slowed Taran to a dancing halt several feet away.
“Call off your attack, de Russe,” Derek yelled.
“Let her go,” Gaston replied calmly.
Derek put his hand to her throat and Remington struggled furiously. “Call it off, I say.”
Gaston’s helmed head gazed down a moment before turning slightly in the direction of the fighting.
A loud, shrill whistle suddenly penetrated the air sharply and all of Gaston’s men, if they were able, suddenly ceased their onslaught.
Every de Russe soldier looked to their lord expectantly.
It was the most amazing thing Remington had ever seen.
Even Derek was impressed, briefly thrown off balance at the display of solidarity.
But he rapidly regained himself. “That’s better,” he said.
“Now, de Russe, since I seem to have the advantage, I will make the rules. Firstly, you will allow me and my men safe passage across the Ure and all the way to Knaresborough. The women will go with us. Secondly, if there is any interruption from you, the ladies will not fair favorably. Do you understand?”
Gaston popped the butt-end of the crossbow on his thigh. “I understand.”
Another faint wail filled the air and suddenly Derek lurched as if he had been hit with Thor’s hammer. His hands dropped from Remington and she shrieked, scooting away from him as he fell onto the ground, dead from an arrow to the back of his neck.
Stunned, she stared at the body a moment before lifting her gaze questioningly, seeing Arik emerge from behind a neighboring oak, a Welsh crossbow in his grip. He smiled at Remington and she suddenly felt ill.
“You did not have to kill him,” she said to Gaston, starting to shake violently.
He did not reply, but lifted a hand to his men. It seemed to be the sign for retreat, because suddenly his men were disengaging themselves from Derek’s soldiers and moving across the grass to find their mounts. Only then did he spur Taran forward, reining the animal next to her.
“Are you very well?” he asked.
She let out a ragged sigh, dropping her gaze and moving to her sisters, who were still flattened against the tree. She grabbed hold of both of them, hugging them tightly. Gaston dismounted, securing the crossbow to his saddle before walking over to the women.
“We need to return, ladies, for it will be dark soon,” he said gently.
They continued to cling to each other a moment until Jasmine caught sight of Antonius. In a burst of tears, she broke from her sisters and threw herself in his arms. Nicolas, too, waited patiently for Skye to be free of her eldest sister before tenderly ushering her to his steed.
Remington stood by the tree, shaking and ill. She refused to meet Gaston’s eye, too many of Derek’s words ringing about in her head. She should have been happy to see him, grateful in the very least that he had rescued her, but she found that all she could feel was uncertainty and bitterness.
“Come on, Remi,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”
She looked at him, her body literally hurting with all of the emotions she was feeling. “I do not want to ride with you.”
He looked at her a moment. “Why not?”
“I just do not,” she whispered. “I would rather ride with Arik.”
He did not move. “Are you angry because the knight is dead?”
It was extremely difficult to control herself.
“He came to save us. From you. He thought that all of the things I said at the faire were forced, and that you were actually holding all of us prisoner. He thought he was doing us a favor.” Her emotions, her anger, her hurt were gaining momentum and her lip began to quiver.
“He wanted us to go live with him in Knaresborough and he wanted me to be his woman. He knew you were my lover and out of his mouth I heard all of the things you have said to me, sweet lies and cunning plans to make me want you. He said you would tire of me and move on to the next whore.”
Her voice rose to a shrill, shaking tone and he moved forward quickly, grabbing her arms and forcing her to walk with him. She cried and struggled, trying to pull away from him, but his grip was like iron.
“Calm down, angel,” he whispered. The helm came off and went thudding to the ground as he walked. “Walk with me and calm yourself.”
“Let go of me!” She twisted until her arms hurt, but he would not budge. She finally took to crying pitifully and he stopped near the river’s edge, far away from his men, and faced her.
“Do not you know he would say anything to make you believe that he was right in what he did?” he said softly.
She jerked back from him but she did not run away. “I never thought he was right in what he did and I begged him to return us home, but the things he said…they made so much sense. It was as if he could read my mind.”
“What else did he say?” he demanded carefully.
She sniffled loudly and the sobs started fresh. “He told me you were only kind to Dane to gain access to my bed. He said that the gifts, the sweet words, the touching, it was all a lie. He said that I was a whore. And that’s true, I am.”
He shook his head. “I told you I never wanted to hear that word again.”
“It’s true!” she snapped savagely. “I shall never be your wife, Gaston, so what else am I but a whore?”
His eyes glazed with pain, her pain and his. “I will not hear this. You know very well that you mean the world to me.”
She turned away from him, her pain cutting like a knife through her soul.
“That may be, but it will never be an honorable relationship. It will be secret and clandestine,” she whirled to him.
“I cannot live with the fact that I will never be more than your mistress. I am selfish, I know, but I want everything, Gaston. I want to be your wife; I want to bear heirs to honor you. Do not you realize that if I conceive a child, it will be a bastard? Do you truly want your children to bear that title? It’s as bad as being labeled a whore.
” She suddenly sank to her knees, her face in her hands.
“I cannot do this to myself, or to you.”