Chapter Fourteen
Trenton did not take the passing of his mother very well.
Even though she had been a less than desirable parent, she had been the only parent he had ever known and he felt the loss terribly.
Gaston tried to comfort his son as best he could, but the boy seemed not to want him around, and that fact saddened him greatly.
Yet, he was not surprised. He was still a virtual stranger to his son and he knew Trenton felt very much alone.
He tried to explain that his mother had died suddenly, of natural causes, but he could tell Trenton doubted his word.
After everything that had happened between Mari-Elle and himself, he could understand the boy’s reluctance to believe that his father had not killed his mother.
As he stood facing his son, he realized he was greatly relieved to be able to tell the lad the truth that he had had nothing to do with the woman’s death.
Even if he had, it would have been justified, but he was relieved all the same.
An eight-year-old boy might not understand adult “justice”.
Reluctantly, he did as was asked of him and left his son to grieve alone.
Remington slept until nearly noon the next day, running a moderate fever and then feeling lousy when she awoke. Her stomach hurt, her entire body ached, and Gaston sat with her while she twitched listlessly and snapped at Rastus when he changed her dressing.
Gaston relayed Mari-Elle’s death, watching her lovely face go even paler.
She said nothing after his explanation, not a question nor a comment, and he could see that she was shocked.
He wondered if it was because she doubted his story as to the circumstances regarding his wife’s death.
She knew he was very capable of killing her himself and he thought he could read a new sort of fear in her eyes.
In truth, Remington did not know what to think.
He had never lied to her before, but she thought the fact that Mari-Elle happened to bleed to death of a female ailment just when she happened to be locked in the vault very peculiar.
She did not want to doubt his word, but the nagging suspicion remained.
She loved him so much that she believed him in spite of her reserve. She did not want to believe him capable of killing a woman, any woman. God only knew he had been nothing but tender and gentle with her.
The two of them went on to decide it would be best not to let Dane or Trenton know how she had received her wound, and Remington explained her condition to her son by saying she had accidentally fallen and hurt herself on the corner of an iron-and-glass table.
If Dane did not believe her, he did not let on.
There had been countless times where she had lied about a bruise or a scrape simply to spare him, and she wondered if he thought mayhap Gaston had injured her somehow.
As much as he loved the Dark Knight, he was very used to male cruelty and somewhat took it in stride.
The afternoon progressed on, the heat and humidity of July miserable.
It added tremendously to Remington’s discomfort, especially with the fever, and Gaston felt truly sorry for her.
Even though she wriggled endlessly in her attempt to find the impossible cool and comfortable position, she never uttered a word of complaint.
Finally, he had had enough watching her roll about and sent Eudora for cool water and a sponge.
He chased the old woman away on the pretense he was going to further clean her wound, when in fact, he was going to strip her down and bathe her all over.
He wanted to, and she needed something to make her more comfortable.
She was lying on her back, propped up slightly on some pillows as he sat the basin of cool water down beside her. Pale and sweaty, she eyed him suspiciously.
“What are you going to do with that?” she demanded. He unlaced the front of her shift, but was thwarted from removing it completely because it only loosened to her abdomen. She frowned.
“Surely you cannot be thinking to…” she was cut off as he grabbed hold of the shift and tore it straight down the middle, opening it completely. She gasped with surprise and he grinned at her.
“Do not worry,” he told her. “I am merely going to bathe you, not ravish you. Although on second thought, the latter is not a half-bad idea.”
“Gaston!” she admonished, though she was pleased with the attention. She’d never been bathed by a man before.
He gave her a wink and gingerly removed her right arm from the sleeve. She lifted her left arm and he pulled the other sleeve off, his gaze raking her seductively. She raised an eyebrow at him in disapproval, knowing his thoughts before he even voiced them.
Clearing his throat loudly and forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, he wrung out the sponge and began to bathe her as tenderly as a mother.
Remington simply lay there and let him, never having experienced something so completely caring in her whole life. He wanted nothing from her for his service; he was doing it entirely because of his feelings for her. They were his sole motivation and she was deeply touched.
He thoroughly and gently removed the dried blood from her skin. She intently watched his face, smiling at him when their eyes would meet and then amused to see how terribly hard he was trying to keep his attention on his task. She could read the desire in his eyes.
“Do not you have duties to attend to?” she asked him softly. “You have been with me all morning.”
“You are my duty for the moment,” he said, running the sponge along her flat belly. “I have nothing urgent, nothing that Arik and my knights cannot attend to.”
She kept watching his face as he concentrated on his task. “What about Mari-Elle’s funeral?”
He did not respond for a moment. “Arik is seeing to the details. I am sending her back to Clearwell for burial. I do not want her buried here.”
“But what of Trenton?” she asked, concerned. “Surely he will want to attend his mother’s funeral? Will you send him back to Clearwell, too?”
“Trenton stays with me,” he said, unemotionally. “He understands.”
She looked away as he bathed her legs, her toes. His attitude was insensitive at best and she found that surprising where Trenton was concerned.
“But…Gaston, she was his mother,” she said after a moment. “How can you be so cold-hearted? Good or bad, she was still his mother. She had raised him from infancy and you, my lord, are practically a stranger to him. I think he should be allowed to see to his mother’s burial.”
He looked at her, a long look. Without replying, he lowered his head again to continue his task and she grew irritated. How could he be so cruel to his son? She drew up her legs, away from him, and yanked the thin sheet over her body to cover her naked flesh.
“I would sleep now,” she said quietly, trying to roll to her left side.
He watched her a moment before tossing the sponge back into the basin. “Do not do this.”
“Do what?” she grunted as she fought for a comfortable position. “I am not doing anything, except trying to find one spot on my body that does not ache like the devil. Why do not you go and seek Trenton? I am sure he could use his father right now.”
She closed her eyes, hoping he would get the hint and leave her alone with her annoyance. But he continued to stand there for the longest time and she fought the urge to peer at him from behind her lashes.
“Do you think that I killed her?” he finally asked.
She opened her eyes. “Did you?”
“Nay.”
“Then I do not think you killed her,” she replied. “But I think you are being very hard on Trenton because of your hatred for his mother.”
She saw his jaw tick and he came over to sit beside her on the bed. His huge hand gently grasped one of hers and she could read a flicker of dull emotion in his eyes.
“Mari-Elle died because she was pregnant,” he said softly. “Her physician said the child had planted itself too high in the womb and she bled to death. It was coincidental that it happened in the vault, I assure you. I never laid a hand on her.”
Remington’s mouth fell open. “Oh, Gaston. Is that why she wanted to make a marriage with you suddenly? Because she was pregnant with someone else’s child?”
He shrugged. “Most likely. She wanted me to bed her so she could tell me the child was mine.”
Remington was filled with a hatred of her own for the woman. Reaching up, she pulled his great head down to her bosom to comfort him, to chase away the humiliation he was surely feeling. If the woman had not already been dead, she would have killed her herself.
“My love, I am so sorry for what she has done to you,” she whispered. “But she has been duly punished for her sins, I believe. Yet I do not think you should punish Trenton for her sins as well. Let him see to her funeral.”
“If you think it best, then I will,” he said, his eyes closed against her warmth. “But I should go with him, as his father.”
“Of course you should,” she agreed. “But I do not want to leave you alone. The remainder of Henry’s troops should be here with in a day at the most and I will not leave you with a keep full of soldiers.”
She smiled. “So leave Arik and your cousins to protect my sisters and I. They are quite capable.”
“Of course they are, but that is not the issue,” his head came up, his eyes locking with her own. “I do not want to leave you, not even for a few days.”
She was missing his point. “But… you said I would be well protected.”
“You will. I just …,” frustrated because he could not find the proper words, he shook his head and reburied it in her bosom.
Remington tried to force him to look at her. “Just what? What were you going to say?”
He mumbled something into her skin but she couldn’t hear him. “Gaston, speak to me. What did you say?”
He raised his head, looking like a little boy who had just been called upon by his instructor to recite. “I said I do not want you to forget about me.”