Chapter Thirty-Six #4
Alex watched Remington, too, remembering how desperately in love with her he had been. If he thought about it, he probably still was. But she was, as always, unattainable, especially now. But that knowledge did not stop him from admiring her flawless beauty.
“I shall loan her more clothes until she can retrieve her own, my lord,” Anne leaned around her husband and was speaking to Gaston. “Surely she cannot make do with only one surcoat.”
“Thank you for your consideration, my lady,” he replied.
Anne gazed at the duke a moment, certainly the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. When he looked at her with his smoky gray eyes, piercing and jewel-like, it was enough to make her heart flutter like a young maiden’s. “What are your plans come the morrow, my lord?”
“We return to Mt. Holyoak and await the arrival of my knights who will escort her back to London,” he said, watching Remington as she danced by once again. “I shall remain in Yorkshire a while longer.”
Alex knew why although he wasn’t sure Anne did, and was thankful when she did not press the duke. When she turned back to one of her ladies, Alex leaned close to Gaston.
“Should you require my help, my lord, do not hesitate to ask,” he said quietly. “I should like to see Stoneley dead as much as you.”
Gaston nodded in thanks. “If you hear of his whereabouts, I can be reached at Mt. Holyoak. I shall remain in Yorkshire until I find him.”
Alex scratched his chin thoughtfully. “He was particularly allied with Keith Botmore and Douglass Archibald. ’Tis possible he’s made contact with them.”
“My contacting Botmore is out of the question, and I have yet to meet Archibald.”
“I shall send missives to them and find out what they know,” Alex said. “However, they know I have allied with you and may not respond.”
“True. I shall contact Brimley and Tarrington and see what they have heard. Hopefully, someone has caught wind of Guy’s whereabouts.” Remington waltzed by again, this time with a different knight and Gaston raised an eyebrow. “Who is that?”
Alex turned to look, grinning at what he saw. “That is Sir Drake Connaught. That man is, shall I say, a rogue. He’s got at least a half dozen bastards about these parts and I’d release him from his oath to me if he were not an outstanding knight. Anne can’t stand him.”
Gaston watched the knight intolerantly as he cradled Remington in his arms. She was smiling brightly at him, chatting amiably. He shifted in his seat. “I shall give him thirty seconds. If he’s not released her by then, I shall step in.”
Alex chuckled, drinking of his French wine. “Have no fear, my lord. He’s already been rejected by Remington.”
“He has?” Gaston looked at the baron.
Alex eyed Drake, tall and dark and striking.
“She was most unkind with her rejection, as I recall. Something about a self-absorbed, supercilious bastard.” When Gaston smiled humorously, Alex looked thoughtful.
“And if I remember correctly, he went for every one of the Halsey sisters, trying for yet another conquest. Jasmine cowered from him, Skye would not even acknowledge him, and Rory gave him a black eye. I always liked Rory a great deal.”
Gaston laughed softly. “So did I. When she wasn’t playing tricks on my knights.”
Alex let out a loud guffaw. “She put some sort of tree sap on Drake’s saddle that turned into mortar when he sat on it.
We couldn’t get him off the saddle; he sat outside in the rain for six hours while the knights tried to pry him free.
They finally resorted to removing him and the saddle together and then wrestling him from the armor,” he laughed again at the memory.
“I thought Anne was going to burst a vein with all of her laughing.”
Gaston laughed too, eyeing the knight once again as he held Remington. He wasn’t so worried anymore.
The dancing and merriment went on into the night.
Alex’s knights, seeing that the duke had not prevented Hugh or Drake from dancing with his ladylove, all vied for their turns and Remington found herself dancing the evening away with several dashing young men.
Sir Adam was the next brave man, daring to take her to waltz on a slow ballad.
As Gaston watched with a critically protective eye, Remington became the undisputed belle of the ball, surrounded by virile young men eager to chat with the beautiful woman.
She laughed and joked with them, displaying her delightfully dimpled smile for their enjoyment.
Gaston merely sat back, wine in hand, conversing leisurely with Alex. His pride went beyond words.
It was a strange experience for him. He had avoided social situations with Mari-Elle at all costs because they usually ended with his wife finding a young man to bed and he slipping out to attend military duties.
Never had he attended a social occasion where his better half was the center of attention.
He could have very easily been jealous, but he found instead that he was as prideful as a stud stallion.
Arrogant because the woman being drooled over loved him with all of her heart, and because he loved her desperately in return.
She turned to look at him several times and they smiled at each other warmly.
Most of the diners had retired for the night with the exception of Alex, Gaston, Remington, and several knights.
The music was still playing softly but there was no dancing.
Instead, Remington was surrounded by six or seven knights on one side of the room while Gaston and Alex were still seated at the head table on the other side of the hall. The hour was late and the night still.
Gaston could hear Remington’s sweet voice from where he sat as she demanded Sir Drake tell her more of his Irish home.
Being half Irish herself, ’twas natural that she wanted to hear of her mother’s homeland.
Having long since finished their final goblets of wine, Alex and Gaston broke out a chess set while Remington and the knights continued their party.
They played chess and shared a pitcher of warm cider between them, listening to Remington’s occasional laughter and the low hum of male voices.
Under normal circumstances, Gaston would have put an end to her evening long ago.
But the past few days had been so traumatic for Remington that he was not opposed to allowing her a bit of laughter and gaiety.
She seemed to have forgotten all about her brush with the devil for the moment and he was thankful.
While he and Alex were in the middle of a particularly critical move, Drake turned to the musicians and demanded they play an Irish jig.
Complying, the four minstrels lapsed into a wild Celt melody and Remington found herself swung across the floor in Drake’s arms. She squealed with laughter and they cavorted across the floor, but in faith she was terribly tired and begged him to cease.
He simply laughed at her, twirling her nearly senseless until a large, imposing figure appeared in their path.
Drake stopped and Remington, still moving with the momentum, pitched forward into Gaston’s arms.
Gaston was staring straight at the knight. “She asked you to stop quite nicely. Since you do not seem apt to obey her wishes, I will motivate your self-control.”
Remington, flushed and gasping with excitement, took Gaston’s hands into her own. “Truly, Gaston, he was not being cruel. It was all in fun.”
Drake was decidedly afraid of the Dark One. He bowed crisply. “I meant no offense, my lord. As the lady said, ’twas all in fun, I was simply showing her a true Irish jig.”
Remington nodded vehemently to back his statement. “Honestly, Gaston. Please do not be angry.”
His cold facade faltered slightly, realizing he had overreacted.
But when he had heard her pleading with the knight to stop, memories of Guy flooded back on him and he could hear her pleading with her husband to stop his brutal onslaught.
It was a peculiar flashback and he found himself on his feet before he realized it, moving to halt the knight.
Now, looking at her earnest face, he felt a bit foolish.
“I am not,” he said. “But it is late and I think it is time we called a halt to the festivities.”
She nodded. “I am fatigued,” she turned to Drake and curtsied prettily. “My thanks, Drake. I enjoyed discussing our mutual Irish heritage.”
“As did I, my lady,” Drake smiled and moved to take her hand, but realized who was standing behind her and quickly put the outstretched hand behind his back. “Good eve, my lord.”
Gaston eyed the knight as he moved away rapidly. Remington followed him as well and waved sweetly to her companions as they dispersed themselves. She looked up to Gaston to find him gazing at her with a cocked brow. She smiled and clutched his arm.
“Why do you look at me like that?”
His gaze rested on her a moment longer before he chuckled, patting her hand. “Because I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” he led her over to the table where Alex still sat. “Bid good night to Alex.”
She extended a warm good sleep to Lord Ingilsby as Gaston put his arm about her waist possessively and led her from the grand hall.
A servant was waiting at the mouth of the hall with a brightly lit torch, waiting to show them to their room.
Talk was soft between them, smiles warm as they followed the servant through the foyer and toward the main stairs.
At one point, Remington lamented her fatigue and Gaston swept her into his arms to a screech of delighted giggles.
She squirmed her way out of his grasp only to find herself heaved over his shoulder as they hit the stairs.
Both of them laughing, he mounted the stairs behind the smirking servant with Remington slung over his broad shoulder.
She pounded on his back and he slapped her playfully on the behind.