Chapter Eleven
Mari-Elle was waiting for him on the steps to the castle as the army entered the outer bailey. He could see her through the inner gate and he let out a silent curse. Patrick suddenly appeared.
“I tried to discourage her, Gaston, but she would not listen to me,” he said. “In fact, she is most enraged that you personally rode out to rescue Lady Remington and her sisters.”
Gaston handed Remington down to Patrick and dismounted, keeping his eyes averted from his wife. “Damn,” he muttered. “Well, I suppose I’d better get this over with.”
“Wait, Gaston,” Remington said softly. “Are you planning to throw her out? Mayhap that is not so wise.”
He raised an eyebrow at her; they were a couple of feet apart, an entirely proper distance, but he felt her heat like a roaring fire. The entire way home his loins had been painfully engorged for want of her. But with Mari-Elle watching, he was thankful for the span between him and Remington.
“Explain,” he ordered softly, loosening his gauntlets.
Remington glanced discreetly, making sure no one was within ear’s length.
“You said you wanted her to be cooperative…I do not believe she will be so cooperative if you throw her out, household and all, and tell her she is unwelcome. Were you to show her a bit of tolerance before you ask for her agreement on a most serious matter, her mood might be more receptive.”
He let out a long sigh, showing his great reluctance at her suggestion. “Remi…” he scratched underneath his hauberk. “You simply do not know what you are asking, angel. There is too much between Mari-Elle and I for me to tolerate her. She would be suspicious.”
“I think she is suspicious already,” Remington looked to the tall woman without turning her head. “Mayhap you had better introduce us and we shall continue this conversation later.”
He looked over his shoulder and saw that Mari-Elle was crossing the inner bailey toward them. He straightened as she drew close, feeling the familiar hatred filling his veins.
Mari-Elle was looking quite closely at Remington and Gaston stepped forward, almost between them.
“I am pleased to see you safely returned, my lord,” Mari-Elle said, her gaze intense on Remington. “So I see I was correct with my first observation of this young lady; she was not a serving wench after all. Lady Remington, I presume?”
Remington curtsied quite respectfully. “Lady de Russe, ’tis an honor.
You will please forgive me for my deception last night, but I usually serve meals to the men of Mt.
Holyoak and I had no idea how you would react to such knowledge.
It gives me a better opportunity to see to their satisfaction, if you will, by serving the meal myself.
I thought it would be easier if I dressed inconspicuously in servant’s garb so that you would not feel uncomfortable. ”
Well said, Mari-Elle thought, although she did not believe her for a moment. “I see,” she said coolly. “And what about the song?”
Remington hoped her cheeks did not flush bright red. “I apologize if you were offended, but when you live with men whose sense of humor can be bawdy at best, unfortunately you respond in kind. We are unused to fine ladies in our midst at Mt. Holyoak.”
Gaston was immensely pleased at her explanations and manners towards his wife, and it only served to deepen his feelings for her. He struggled to keep the prideful look from his face.
Mari-Elle still did not believe her, although the excuses were entirely plausible and respectful.
She raised an eyebrow at her imperiously.
“You had better become quite used to me, Lady Remington. I am the lady of the keep now and there are certain rules of decorum we adhere to,” she turned to her husband.
“Might I have a word with you, my lord husband?”
Remington was sure she had used the word ‘husband’ simply to prick her. Yet her motive seemed not to be pushed by jealousy; jealousy was an extremely readable emotion and Remington could sense none. But she did sense possessiveness.
Gaston looked at his wife with veiled contempt. “Lady Remington is still chatelaine, madam, until I say otherwise,” he jabbed his wife back in Remington’s defense. “And I will join you in the solar in a few moments, after I have seen to the settling of my men.”
Mari-Elle dipped her head courteously. “As you say, my lord,” she passed a glance at Remington. “I see that you have suffered no ill effects from your kidnapping. Was it, in fact, a kidnapping? Or were you simply trying to escape my husband?”
Remington could sense nothing but hatred from the woman, cold and black and it made her skin crawl. Patrick, Jasmine, Nicolas and Skye walked past them at the moment and Mari-Elle turned her attention to them as Remington was forming a reply.
“Patrick, Nicolas, I am pleased to see you returned safely,” she said. “Lady Margaret and Lady Theodora will be pleased that you are maintaining your health so that you may return to them whole.”
It was a blatant, vicious statement. Jasmine, surprisingly, did not react, but Skye’s eyes widened.
“Aren’t your cousins married yet, my lady?” Patrick said, his jaw tensed. “Surely they are old maids by now.”
Gaston hid a smile of pleasure at Patrick’s response, but Mari-Elle merely laughed. “You silly boy. How can they be married if they are promised to you?”
Patrick maintained his composure, praying Jasmine would do the same. “I do not recall any promise to Lady Margaret, my lady. She was mildly amusing and occasionally interesting, but beyond that I have no use for her. If you will excuse us.”
He pushed his brother and Jasmine and Skye onward, out of Mari-Elle’s range. Mari-Elle smiled and shook her head.
“Men never do keep their promises, do they?” she said more to herself than to anyone else.
Gaston’s patience with the woman was at an end. “Inside, wife. I will speak with you later.”
“Of course, husband,” Mari-Elle replied, properly obedient.
She started to back away, eyeing Remington. “Surely you are exhausted after your ordeal mistress, and wish to retire. I would ask that you accompany me inside, as I am still unfamiliar with these surroundings.”
Gaston was not about to let Mari-Elle alone with Remington and shook his head sternly. “Nay, madam, I still have several questions for Lady Remington before she retires.”
Mari-Elle’s almost pleasant expression tensed. “Of course.”
She turned and was gone in a billow of purple satin, marching off across the inner bailey with angry steps. Gaston turned away but Remington watched her for a moment.
“She knows, Gaston,” she whispered.
“She does not know anything, but I would wager that she suspects,” he said, watching the groom lead Taran away. “She is naturally suspicious. ’Tis perfectly very well for her to keep lovers, but she is insanely distrustful of any woman I speak with.”
“She keeps lovers?” Remington turned to him, surprised.
His eyebrow twitched ironically. “Since before we were married.”
“Oh, Gaston. How….” she almost said “terrible” until she realized how it sounded. Embarrassed, she turned her head from him. “Do you truly have any questions or was that simply to be rid of her?”
He moved a step closer to her. “To Mari-Elle, a lover is simply a pet to amuse her for a while and then she moves on to another. I use the term loosely. I could refer to the men as sex-slaves, or the Fancy of the Day,” his voice lowered.
“You are, in every sense of the word, my lover. When I refer to you with the expression, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. There is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of, angel.”
She shrugged, offering him a small smile. “I was about to accuse her of outrageous infidelity until I realized what a hypocrite I was. But I do not feel that way, Gaston. I know what we are doing is wrong, but I love you so that somehow it must be right.”
“It is right,” he said huskily. “Love is never wrong, angel.”
She looked at him a moment, suddenly wrapping her arms about her in the cool night. “Have you ever loved anyone?”
“Aye, verily,” he said shortly.
She blinked; suddenly regretful she had even asked the question. He had answered so quickly, with such certainty, that she suddenly felt second best and strangely belittled.
Arik shouted at him and he waved his second off a moment before turning back to Remington. “Well?”
“Well what?” she answered stiffly. “I am cold, my lord, if you will excuse me.”
“Remi,” he said in a husky growl. “Aren’t you going to ask me who?”
“Nay, my lord, for it is none of my affair,” she said coolly. “I will bid you good night, then.”
She started to walk away but she heard him laughing low behind her.
Puzzled, she turned to look at him; she had never truly heard him laugh and her heart jumped crazily at his smile.
He had the most beautiful smile she had ever seen and she suddenly realized she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
That is, if the woman he had loved previously loved him in return.
Irritation and uncertainty swept her. “Why are you laughing at me?” she demanded.
He continued to snicker, closing the distance between them. “Because you are jealous and I find it amusing. No one had ever been jealous on my behalf and I am flattered.”
“Do not be,” she turned swiftly and marched into the castle.
He watched her go with a smile still playing on his lips. “Oh, Remi, do not you know who it is I love?”
*
Mari-Elle was waiting dutifully in the solar when her husband joined her nearly an hour later. Truthfully, she was fuming that he had kept her waiting so long, but acted nothing but the proper wife.
“My lord, how kind of you to break off from your duties for me,” she said. “Would you care for some bread and cheese? You missed the evening meal and….”