Chapter Ten #5
“You will take Lady Rory and young Dane and escort them to their rooms. I will depend on you to make sure they do not stray,” he said. “I will trust their safety to you while I retrieve Lady Remington and her sisters. Will you do this?”
“Aye, my lord,” Charles nodded, his eyes suddenly turning wistful. “I may not ride with you?”
“Nay, lad,” Gaston said. “I need you here, at the fortress.”
Gaston had put his words nicely and Charles was not disheartened. The fact that he had the Dark Knight’s trust actually made him feel quite important. Taking Dane’s hand, he led the boy and Rory away.
Gaston was on the move, a man with a mission.
Knaresborough was not far and he wanted to intercept the party before they made it to the fortress.
His two squires followed him, latching on pieces of armor and strapping on his sword.
Gaston paused a moment, still coordinating orders and troops, lifting his arms as the boys locked on the rest of his plate armor.
When one squire secured the last latch on his grieve and positioned the plate over his boot, Gaston was completely protected and therefore, impatient to get going.
He put Patrick in charge of the fortress with explicit instructions regarding Mari-Elle and Remington’s family.
He did not want any unexpected confrontations while he was away, especially not between Rory and Mari-Elle.
With the temper of the two women, they would most likely kill each other and he did not want any surprises upon his return.
A groom brought Taran forward, still fumbling with his tack. Gaston mounted the animal as the groom secured the last strap and adjusted his reins as Arik moved the last mounted soldier into formation.
This was a light company, well-seasoned warriors that were worth their weight in a fight.
They were mayhap the most elite of the men-at-arms, a step above, yet not on par with the knights.
They were tough and Gaston roved an approving eye over them as they settled in and waited for his final command.
He would catch the fools before they had a chance to make it to Knaresborough, and he would take great pleasure in gutting every one of them personally.
If Remington were unharmed, he would be merciful.
If they had been unfortunate to touch her, then he would make sure they were so miserable that they would beg for death.
Every time he thought of her in the clutches of her kidnappers, his heart beat so fast that his palms sweated and the tightening of his chest was unbearable.
He set out with unmovable determination, the likes of which he had never known. No battle ever held as high a stake, including Bosworth. He would retrieve what was his and he would make those responsible pay in the worst way.
“What is our elapsed time?” he asked Arik as they went charging under the portcullis.
“Since Rory and Charles informed us? Around ten minutes,” Arik replied over the thunder of the hooves.
“And we assume that the abductors have at least a ten minute start on us,” Gaston thought aloud and he tightened his grip on the reins. “We have got twenty damn minutes to make up for.”
The army rumbled into the lake clearing and Gaston’s eyes fell on Roald. He drew Taran close to the knight and dismounted, kneeling beside the body. He was sickened by the senseless loss of a long-devoted knight.
But Roald wasn’t dead. Yet. He gave a little twitch and tried to move somehow, but Gaston and Arik held him still.
“Roald,” Gaston said urgently. “Did you see which way they went?”
Roald opened one eye, seeing Gaston and knowing if the arrow did not end his life, his liege would. He had failed miserably in the fulfillment of his duties.
“I…I do not know, my lord,” he rasped. “I remember being struck and then nothing more. They were taken and not killed outright?”
“It would seem so,” Gaston said.
Roald felt a bit of relief, but he knew he would still answer for allowing such a thing to happen. “I apologize for failing you, my lord. ’Tis inexcusable and I ask that you be merciful with my punishment.”
Gaston waved a couple of soldiers over. “I believe the arrow in your chest is punishment enough, Roald,” he turned to the soldiers behind him. “Return him to the fortress and then comb the woods for the bodies of the other two knights. I want them found.”
He was met with a sharp response and he rose, his eyes gazing over the landscape.
“They went south,” Arik said. “The quickest way would be to avoid the towns and cross the river where it is least used.”
Gaston nodded faintly. “Send the scouts to pick up the trail. We ride.”
Arik let out a piercing whistle and two soldiers broke off from the troops, racing in the direction Arik indicated on Saracen stallions. They were the fastest beasts Gaston had ever seen and an invaluable intelligence asset.
He and Arik were mounted and waited when one of the soldiers came racing back.
“We have found obvious evidence, my lord,” the man said, pointing. “Almost due south.”
Gaston nodded sharply. “Ride ahead, then, and mark my trail. Waste no time.”
The soldier was gone and the army followed close behind, trampling over the soft green grass and tearing up the growth with their mighty warhorses.
*
Jasmine, through a good deal of expert acting, managed to delay their departure for nearly an hour.
Every time someone would raise their voice or move in to pick her up, she would scream and grab her gut as if she were going to explode.
Intimidated, the knights and soldiers accompanying them were reluctant to force her.
Every man, whether he would admit it or not, is intimidated by a female simply for virtue of her mysterious sex.
Women breed and have strange, private afflictions that serve to scare the hell out of any man.
They were positive Jasmine was suffering from a strange, female affliction and none wanted to be cursed by touching her.
Remington and Skye sat vigilantly beside their sister, fighting off smiles and praying Gaston was not far behind.
The afternoon was waning away as the sun moved lower in the sky and Remington knew they could not fight Derek off much longer.
He and Calvin stood in a huddle several feet away, whispering to each other and glaring at the women.
Finally, Derek broke off from Calvin and marched to Remington.
“A word, if you will,” he said.
Remington rose reluctantly and faced him. “Well? Are you going to take us home?”
His jaw ticked. “You do not seem to understand. Mt. Holyoak is no longer your home, which is why I am taking you to Knaresborough. Is Jasmine well enough to travel?”
She crossed her arms stubbornly. “No.”
Derek put his hands on his hips. “Then that is her misfortune. We are leaving now, ill or no.”
“You cannot,” Remington cried. “She shall…. she shall retch violently the entire way. She shall faint and take to convulsions.”
Derek snatched her arm. “Let’s go.”
She dug her heels in. “Let me go, Derek. I told you we do not want to go with you. Why can you not understand that?”
He stopped suddenly and she almost fell down. “Because you do not mean it. I do not know what de Russe has done to you, but you are not acting yourself. You are coming home with me.”
She fought and twisted. “No, Derek. I do not want you, and I do not want to go to Knaresborough.”
His grip tightened and his eyes narrowed as he studied her. He did not say anything for a moment, but she could tell by the way he was looking at her that he was not thinking pleasant thoughts.
“You are his whore, aren’t you?” he said in a low voice as if the thought just occurred to him.
“That is why you do not want to leave. He showers you with meaningless gifts and lies and you have fallen for his ploy.” He yanked her hard when she tried to turn away from him. “Remington, how could you be so blind?”
“You do not know what you are saying,” she said through clenched teeth. “Let go of me.”
Instead he grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him and she struggled to free herself. “He has brainwashed you. Can’t you see that?”
She kicked out and succeeded in breaking his grip.
She stumbled a few feet away, still feeling his harsh grip on her face.
“All I see is a spoiled young man who is being told no for the first time in his life,” she spat.
“You cannot understand why I do not want you and you are therefore trying to plant lies in my head to force me to bend to your will.”
He looked at her, pleading. “He is not for you, Remington. He is your captor, for God’s sake. He shall use you a little while and then when he tires of you, he shall move on. They all do.”
She was starting to lose her composure. Derek was voicing her very own negative thoughts that she had fought so hard to suppress, thoughts she was even afraid to admit she had. Dark, shapeless phantoms in the corner of her mind; how could he know exactly what she had been thinking?
“You are wrong, Derek,” she said hoarsely. “Take me home. Now.”
Derek took a timid step toward her; smart enough to know she was wavering.
“He tells you that you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and he tells you that he is mad for you. He likes to hold your hand and he is very kind to your son, anything to gain entrance into your heart and into your bed. Tell me if I am wrong.”
How did he know? Her breath began coming in short pants and her knees began to shake.
Tears, hot and confused, sprang to her eyes.
It wasn’t true. Derek was trying to unbalance her; anything to convince her that going to Knaresborough was in her best interest. He was being spiteful simply because she had said she did not want him.
“You are wrong,” she whispered.
“I am not,” he countered softly. “You know I have always had a weakness for you, love. I shall make you happy, I promise.”