Chapter Seventeen #2
“’Tis not unusual for special prisoners to be given special consideration,” Gaston answered. After a moment, he released her. “Come on, angel. Let’s get this over with.”
He took her hand gently and led her from the room.
The envoy scrutinized Remington closely.
Sitting rigid in a chair, she answered his questions with thinly veiled annoyance while Gaston loomed a few feet away.
She did not like the look of the priest, and she certainly did not like the messages he bore, which afforded her little patience during his interrogation.
Finally, after several minutes of inquiry, he handed Remington the missive from Guy.
Gaston could see her hands shaking as she broke the seal and he cursed silently.
To see her upset was the surest way to provoke his temper, and at this moment it was directed at the priest. He was having a difficult time controlling himself as she steadied the parchment enough so she could read it.
“Lady Stoneley is recovering from a severe wound, priest,” he growled. “I do not appreciate having my chatelaine upset so.”
The priest gave him a strange look. “How can a message from her dear husband upset her?”
Gaston’s jaw ticked but Remington glanced up at him. “It’s all right, my lord.”
The men went quiet as she read the vellum once and rolled it up again. Amazingly, her eyes were clear and her hands calm as she laid it upon the table with disinterest.
“And what if I do not wish to go?” she asked pointedly.
The priest was surprised. “You… you do not wish to go and live with your husband? My lady, I find that astonishing. Why not, may I ask?”
“Because I have no desire to live as a prisoner, as he is,” she said in a clipped tone. “I am quite enjoying my freedom at Mt. Holyoak, where I can be with my sisters and son. I have no desire to go to London.”
Gaston did not react, but he was damn curious to see how the envoy was going to handle her refusal.
Truth was, he was feeling foolish that he had not thought of the idea himself.
If she refused to go, he wasn’t at all sure if the priest would force her.
However, since Gaston was ordered to comply with Stoneley’s wishes by decree of Henry, technically, Gaston could physically force her to go should the church demand it and that thought unnerved him.
The envoy adjusted the collar of his heavy robe, his fat face coated with perspiration and an unholy odor emanating from him. Carefully, he sat in a chair several feet away from Remington, his brow creased with thought.
“My lady, it has been over a year since you have seen your husband,” he said quietly. “I spoke with him before coming here and he confessed to me that he has missed you terribly and he is fearful for your welfare now that Mt. Holyoak is occupied. Are you not the least bit anxious to see him?”
“No,” Remington said flatly, meeting his eye unwaveringly. “He’s a filthy bastard and I hope he rots in jail. I am happy to be rid of him.”
The priest was taken aback by the bluntness of her statement. Then, suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to him, his gaze moved between Gaston and Remington.
“My lady, you do not have to say those things because the Dark One listens. You are perfectly safe with me,” he leaned forward and Remington was greeted with a foul stench when his robes shifted. “You need not fear him with God as your protector.”
Remington’s face washed with an uncharacteristically hostile expression.
“If God is my protector, then why was I forced to endure nine years of hell with a man who beat and humiliated me as part of his daily routine? If God is merciful, then why did He allow my husband to abuse my sisters?” She rose slowly, her rage gaining steam and her eyes riveted to the priest. “If God is my protector, then why does He sanction my husband’s request that I join him in jail?
Speak to me not of God, priest, for He has ignored me my entire life and I am not about to give faith in Him now. ”
The envoy swallowed, shaken at her venomous tone.
He opened his mouth to interrupt but she cut him off savagely.
“No! You will not defend Him in my presence, for as far as I am concerned, God does not exist.” She was standing in front of him, her beautiful face full of anger and hatred.
“Return to London, Man of God, and tell my husband that I am glad he is moldering in Henry’s Tower.
Tell him that I hope he dies a slow, painful, lingering death, as was the one he sentenced me to nine years ago when he married me.
And by the way, I told you I had no use for God, and I do not.
But I do believe in Satan. I am married to him! ”
The priest could only stare back at her with astonishment.
Gaston, too, was overwhelmed with this side of Remington he had not yet seen.
She was absolutely magnificent; strong, proud, distinct with her words.
She had actually succeeded in subduing the arrogant priest, something Gaston himself had been unable to do.
“My lady,” the priest said hoarsely, “I find your hatred of God unreasonable. He is with you always, no matter that you feel He has abandoned you.”
“Shut up!” Remington snapped brusquely, turning away from him. She was completely in control of the conversation and both men knew it. “I will hear no more of God. You will return to London and inform my husband that I have no intention of joining him. I will discuss this no further.”
The priest looked at her, agape, and then glanced at Gaston. He met the man’s eyes with a look of stone. “I believe you have your answer, priest.”
The priest blinked with confusion, trying desperately to regain control of the situation. What had happened that he had lost his edge, his divine jurisdiction? When did this woman grasp the reins of power and wrap them around his neck? Suddenly irritated, he stood up.
“I brought no polite request for you, Lady Stoneley, but a command from your husband. You are given no choice but to return with me to London.”
Remington turned to him, slowly and stealthily. After a moment, she raised a well-shaped eyebrow. “And if I refuse? Do you intend to wrest me all the way back to London yourself?”
“I do not have to,” the envoy looked to Gaston. “My lord de Russe has orders from Henry to comply with the demand. If you refuse, ’tis he who will wrest you back to London.”
The priest did indeed know the extent of his power, and he apparently knew Gaston’s role as well. Gaston felt himself waver inwardly, not daring to look at Remington. He could feel her eyes on him questioningly.
“Is this so?” she asked him.
He still did not look at her, his eyes fixed to the priest. He almost refuted, but he could not in good conscience. The priest was right and both men knew it.
“Aye,” he said after a moment. “He has that power to order me to comply, my lady.”
“Then you will have to tie me up, for I shall run away if given the chance,” she said, losing her controlled facade. “Do it now, de Russe, or I shall run from this room and you will never catch me.”
He looked at her when she called him “de Russe”. So coldly, so uncivilly and by God, he hated the tone in her voice!
“Is that what you truly want?” he asked her. “I will do it if your threats are sincere.”
She sat in a chair, putting her hands in front of her as if she were preparing to be bound. Gaston watched her, his heart breaking.
“Can’t you see she does not want to go?” he turned to the priest, his voice gritty. “How can you, a man of the cloth, in good conscience force her to do something she obviously does not want to do? Were not her reasons good enough to warrant reconsideration on your part?”
The priest met Gaston’s gaze as rivulets of sweat ran down his flushed face. “What she wishes is of no concern to me, my lord. She will do as she is told, and so will you.”
Gaston hardened like granite. His face remained unreadable, but when he spoke, there was thunder in his voice. “Be gone from my sight. I will send for you when the lady is ready to leave.”
The envoy’s face twitched at the tone, as low and threatening as he had ever heard. His haughty demeanor slackened briefly.
“As soon as possible, if you will,” he moved for the door, avoiding looking at either of them. “I have already been a week long on this journey and we will be expected before the month is out.”
He shut the door behind him heavily. Gaston’s eyes were fixed to Remington. She was staring straight ahead, her wrists still pressed together as if awaiting the rope.
“Remi,” his voice was a whisper. “You tried, angel, but ’twas in vain. Your efforts were, however, magnificent. I had no idea you could rouse that level of anger within your sweet little body.”
“Bind me,” she said through clenched teeth.
His breathing began to quicken as he gazed upon her. “Do not do this to me. I love you, Remi. Everything will be all right, I swear it.”
As when a cork pops from a bottle of fermented wine due to unrelenting pressure, so did Remington’s nerves.
All of the careful control she had exerted since Gaston had informed her of the envoy’s message suddenly exploded and all of the fear she had ever felt toward Guy came slamming into her like the hard crash of a waterfall.
Fear consumed her, ate at her, and she threw herself up from the chair and propelled her body against the wall stacked with books.
Screaming and ranting like a woman gone mad, she ripped the books from their shelves and threw them every which way. Gaston ducked as books came sailing at him, his split second of indecision to let her go ended. He had to stop her before she hurt herself.
He grabbed her tightly, but she fought against him with more strength than he thought possible for a woman. It was anger, hatred, and total terror expressing themselves and within the confines of his massive arms, he let her rant. She pounded him, slapped him.