Chapter Sixteen #3
The army by-passed Boroughbridge and Gaston could literally smell his keep.
His anticipation grew as he strained to catch a glimpse of the massive structure on the horizon, and he was not disappointed.
Like a massive gray sentinel, the stone edifice rose out of the northeast sky and Gaston’s body washed with satisfaction.
My keep, he thought with contentment he had never known. Remi’s and mine.
He would be holding her in no time.
Mt. Holyoak greeted its conquering son with open arms. The gates were flung wide and an honor guard lined the drawbridge as Gaston brought the army back to the fold.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling more welcome, or more at home, even though the honor guard had been standard fare at Clearwell.
Mayhap it was because he felt more comfortable at Mt.
Holyoak than he ever had at the home he had shared with Mari-Elle. Mt. Holyoak was already in his blood.
Sir Roald met him in the outer bailey, smartly saluting his lord as he dismounted Taran. Gaston’s eyes were scanning the grounds for Remington.
“Where is Lady Stoneley?” he asked his knight casually.
Sir Roald looked even paler than usual. “We have a bit of a situation, my lord. A papal envoy arrived while you were away with a message from our king, and another message from Lord Stoneley for his wife. Lady Stoneley has taken to, uh, your room and will not come out.”
Gaston tried to control his shock. “What did the missive say?”
Roald shook his head. “I know not, my lord. I have not read either one of them, since they were not directed at me. Lady Stoneley refuses to read the missive from her husband.”
Gaston’s nostrils flared slightly, an overwhelming indication of his level of emotion. Arik had heard the majority of the conversation and stepped forward.
“Where is the envoy?” he asked.
“I have made him comfortable but little more,” Roald said. “He’s a pushy bastard and I have kept him restricted to the lower floor. He demands to be shown Lady Stoneley; he believes her to be a prisoner.”
Gaston fought to maintain his control. “You said Lady Stoneley is in my room?”
“Aye, my lord,” Roald replied.
Without another word, he left his knights and disappeared into the innards of the castle.
The familiar dank smell comforted him as he made his way to his bower.
By the time he hit the second level he was nearly running.
He had to get to Remington, to speak with her and comfort her before he dealt with the envoy.
If he went to the envoy now he would most likely explode and commit murder.
Only if he saw Remington first could he gain a handle on his rocketing emotions.
The family wing was softly lit, the heat of the day seeping away.
The doors were open, as they usually were during the day, and he passed by Rory and Jasmine on his way to see Remington.
The sisters did not utter a word to him; with expressions of glee, they raced from their rooms and off to find their returned knights.
He was focused on the great double doors of his bower straight ahead, but as he passed by Remington’s room, he suddenly heard her voice and jerked to a halt.
Fully prepared to charge into the room and pull her into his arms, he came to a skidding stop at the open door, his eyes drinking in the atmosphere of the room.
Remington lay upon her bed, her back propped up with several pillows.
Dane lay with his head upon her lap and Trenton sat with his legs folded right next to her, his handsome young face alive.
From the tone of her voice and the looks on the boy’s faces, he knew that she was telling them another glory tale.
“But if the lion of Nemea was invulnerable to injury, then how did Hercules kill it?” Trenton was asking.
“Hercules was very clever, Trenton,” Remington replied. She sounded tired. “First, he whacked the lion over the head with a club, and then he strangled it with his bare hands. Quite a feat, I would say.”
“Who else did he kill?” Dane demanded.
Remington ran her fingers through her son’s hair. “It wasn’t so much as who he killed, but why. Hercules was not a vicious murderer; in fact, he was a very wise and great man. If he did kill, it was because he had to. And he mostly killed ferocious animals with a taste for flesh.”
“Then what else did he kill?” Dane rephrased his question.
Remington looked thoughtful. “He killed the man-eating birds of Arkadia, and he killed the three-headed monster Geryon, whose home was near the sunset. But he did a lot of good things, as well.”
“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.