Chapter Ten #4
Her mouth fell open. Her fear was rapidly subsiding, replaced by a vague understanding and full-blown exasperation. “Nay, Derek, you misunderstand. I did not say those things because I had to; I said them because it was the truth. Sir Gaston has been exceedingly generous and kind to us.”
Two knights exploded through the undergrowth, reining their excited animals next to Derek. “Rory and young Dane made it to the castle, Derek. We couldn’t risk being seen when they escaped onto the open road.”
“Calvin,” Remington said accusingly.
“Do not fret, Remi,” Derek assured her calmly. “We shall get them.”
“I do not want you to get them, I want you to let me go. Let us all go,” she insisted angrily. “Derek, you are crazy. Gaston will kill you when he finds out what you have done.”
“Do not worry,” he repeated to her, then looking at his men. “The escapees will surely alert de Russe. Come now, we ride.”
Remington opened her mouth to protest but Derek took off with such speed she nearly fell off. She clung to the destrier’s saddle, terrified of what was to come.
Knaresborough was nearly ten miles to the southwest. Derek’s father maintained a fair-sized fortress, certainly nothing the size of Mt.
Holyoak, and Remington knew instinctively that Gaston would obliterate it in his quest to retrieve her.
Derek did not seem to want to listen to her, convinced she was a prisoner of the Dark Knight. He had to listen.
“Derek,” she screamed. “Stop, please.”
He held on to her tightly, ignoring her pleas. She tried repeatedly to convince him to stop, but he did not answer. Instead, he urged his horse harder.
They ran and ran. Remington wasn’t even sure how many men Derek had with him, but she could see that every man was positive they were doing something chivalrous and good. Rescuing damsels in distress from a ruthless overlord. If they would only listen to the truth!
They cut south to the River Ure. Once across the wooden bridge that spanned the waters, there was nothing between them and Knaresborough. Remington saw this as her only opportunity to stall, to talk sense into the man as he slowed his destrier to a halt.
“Derek, I feel ill,” she gasped, although it was a lie. “Can I please rest for a moment? Please?”
His helm looked at her a moment before she saw it dip in approval.
Gently, he lowered her to the ground and she ran for Jasmine.
Hysterical, her sister fell into her arms and the two clutched each other tightly.
Skye was not to be left out, wriggling from her captor and throwing herself against her sisters. They were terrified.
Remington turned angry eyes to Derek. “I told you we did not want to leave. Why do you not listen? What will it take for you to believe me?”
He flipped up his visor, his soft blue eyes and blond lashes focused on her. “Remington, he’s the enemy, for God’s sake. What sort of magic has he performed on you to make you loyal to him?”
If he only knew! “Derek, I demand you return us to Mt. Holyoak. Return us now and I promise Gaston will go easy on you.”
“Hmpf. I think not,” he said firmly. “You are an ungrateful little chick. Come now, mount up.”
Jasmine suddenly went into a screaming fit of hysterics and collapsed on the ground. Remington and Skye went down on their knees beside her, trying to revive her.
“See what you have done?” Remington accused hotly. “Derek Botmore, you are a lout and an idiot!”
Derek sighed and dismounted heavily. This rescue was not going at all well. His former captives were most unappreciative of his efforts.
“Remington, come here,” he motioned with his finger.
Thinking mayhap he was willing to see reason, Remington left her sister’s side. “What is it?”
“You do not understand, love,” he said carefully. “I am saving you.”
“From what?” she demanded. “I told you that we are not in any danger. Sir Gaston has been entirely accommodating. Derek, Mt. Holyoak is our home and we wish to return.”
He looked at her a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. “You are ill, love. You are not thinking clearly.”
“Do not turn this around on me,” she said angrily. “I know exactly what I am saying. ’Tis you who are not thinking clearly. I never exactly asked for your help.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Listen to me, Remi. With Guy locked away, you do not have to stay at Mt. Holyoak any longer,” his hands grasped her arms suddenly, firmly. “Come to Knaresborough with me, love. I shall take good care of you.”
She saw his ploy, his open invitation and she was infuriated. Roughly, she yanked away from him. “I do not want you. Take me home. Now.”
His face hardened. “Do not make me force you, Remington. I am doing you a favor. What is the matter with you?”
She took a step back from him, shaking with anger. “Take me home or I shall walk every step of the way. I mean it, Derek!”
He did not answer and she turned away from him, moving back to her crumpled sister.
“I must do what I feel is best for you, Remington,” he said loudly. “You must trust me.”
“You are not my husband,” she snapped back. “You have no say in my life or the lives of my family members.”
He slapped his thigh, maddened. “You are unreasonable!”
“And you are out of line, sir,” she said hotly.
“Remi, what’s going on?” Skye’s voice was shaking.
Remington turned back to Jasmine. “He thinks he is saving us from Gaston.”
“Saving us?” Skye repeated. “From what?”
Remington fixed her sister with a pointed look. “Exactly my question, sweetheart.”
Jasmine suddenly moaned and twitched, clutching at her stomach. “Oh, God. I am going to be sick.”
She continued to cry and carry on, but that was the extent of it. Remington tried to comfort her, bending low so she would be heard over the moaning. “Jasmine, what’s the matter? Where do you hurt?”
Jasmine moaned and groaned and one eye opened, peering at her sister. “Nowhere,” she whispered, then moaned again. “I am stalling for time.”
Remington almost collapsed with relief atop her sister, but refrained from showing her alleviation. Quickly, her mind set in motion to add to Jasmine’s stalling tactic. They must give Gaston time to catch up to them.
“See what you have done!” she whirled to Derek furiously. “You have aggravated her stomach ailment. If we travel anymore she will become violently ill.”
Derek hissed a curse and slapped at his thigh; this was not going at all well. He marched up on the women, gazing critically on Jasmine.
“Well, what’s wrong with her?” he demanded.
“I just told you, it’s her stomach,” Remington snapped. “We must rest here.”
They couldn’t afford to stay there any longer.
Already he was granting the pursuing Dark Knight ample time to catch up to them.
He began to wonder about the wisdom of this caper; never had he met such stubborn victims. But he had no desire to kill one of his rescues, if in fact she was ill as her sister made her out to be.
In pure agitation, he tossed his helm to the ground and ordered his men to take a rest.
*
Small dots representing Rory, Dane and Charles were racing up the hill toward Mt.
Holyoak under the hot afternoon sun. The sentries on the wall saw them and set forth the warning cry.
There would be no reason to run in the sun unless something terrible had happened; the fact that there were only three of them returning being reason enough to worry, and the sergeant made the decision to give the alerted call.
Gaston, in the sublevels with Arik, heard the cry and knew in his gut that Remington was in danger. Some sixth sense told him something had happened and he fought off his panic as he made his way to the fortified drawbridge.
Rory, Dane and Charles were pounding across the bridge about the time Gaston arrived. Rory, exhausted, tripped and plowed into Arik. Dane went straight for Gaston, sobbing as the huge man picked him up gently.
“Rory, what the hell is going on? Where are Remi and the rest of them?” he demanded harshly.
Rory was gasping for air, trying to answer. Charles, on his knees, raised his flushed face. “Knights, Sir Gaston. Lots of them.”
A bolt of terror shot through him. “Were they wearing colors? Did you recognize them?”
Rory and Charles shook their head. “The armor was very fine, hardly damaged,” Charles breathed. “And one of the destriers was red. Very red.”
Charles described no one Gaston knew. Dane was clinging to him, his little arms wrapped around his neck and his legs wound around his narrow waist, sobbing. Gaston clutched Remington’s son, patting his back as he talked.
“The knight at the faire had a horse like that,” Dane whispered against Gaston’s neck.
It took Gaston a second to comprehend the boy’s words. Then, he pulled back to look the lad in the face. “What knight, Dane?”
Dane sniffled, wiping his eyes. “The knight that talked to my mother. You called him a whip.”
Gaston looked at him a moment, trying to figure out what in the hell he was talking about. Then, suddenly, it dawned on him. “Sir Derek? The knight I called a whelp?”
Dane nodded fearfully. “It looked like him because they had the same horse.”
Gaston slanted a glance at Arik, who understood the silent command. He fled. Charles and Rory clung to each other, finally catching their breath but still very, very frightened.
“Rory, do you know Sir Derek?” Gaston asked. “Did you recognize him?”
“I wasn’t looking, to be truthful,” she said weakly. “Remington said to run, and I did.”
Remington. The sound of her name brought the reality of the crisis slamming into him like a ton of bricks and he felt a sense of urgency shoot through him such as he had never known. He sat Dane gently to the ground.
“Charles, I have an important task for you,” he said sternly. The young man instantly straightened. “Aye, my lord?”