Chapter Twenty-Four #3
“It’s all right, Gaston,” she assured him quickly. “There is no harm in talking to him for an hour.”
Gaston did not stop and she moved quickly to intercept him. Grabbing hold of him with all her strength, she turned him around and pulled him with her until they were nearly to the door. Her soft, white hands wound themselves in his dark hair and pulled his head down to her level.
“Take the men and wait for me in the hall,” she whispered. “You may stand right by the door if you wish and listen to every word, but if there is the possibility that he is sincere, then we must do as he says. Please.”
“I shall not leave you alone with him,” Gaston growled.
“And you will not be. You will be right outside the door should I need you,” she hissed urgently. “Please, Gaston, just do as he asks. Please?”
He sighed heavily. “I do not like this, Remi.”
Her lips were against his ear and she kissed him tenderly. “Nor do I, my love, but I am willing to do as he asks. Please go along with me.”
He looked at her a moment before straightening and turning to the knights against the wall.
He struggled to spit out the words. “We will wait in the hall for the lady,” he rumbled, turning with a deadly glare to Stoneley.
“One hour. If you so much as spit in her direction, your death will not be painless.”
Guy did not say a word as Gaston and the other men filed out. When the door shut softly, his eyes fell on his wife.
“Thank God they are gone,” he said. “Now we may speak the truth. How is it that you have become Henry’s pawn, Remington?”
“I am not his pawn.” She was still on the other side of the room, a good distance away. “And I have been speaking the truth the entire time. I hate you and I want out of this marriage.”
His jaw ticked and she involuntarily flinched, waiting for the pain that was sure to follow. Surprisingly, he did not come toward her with murder on his mind. Instead, he turned toward the narrow window, feeling the heat wafting on the stale breeze.
“As you say, Remi,” he said lightly. “But I warn you, if you intend to go through with this, it will cost you. Dearly.”
“It can cost me nothing more than you have already taken,” she said flatly. “You have stripped me of everything in life, Guy. What more could you possibly want from me?”
He smiled humorlessly, still staring out the window. “Do you wish to know my terms?”
“I do.” She was shocked and wary that he did, indeed, have terms. He had insisted to Gaston that there were no terms to be met.
He looked at her, then. “Kiss me.”
She blanched. “What?”
“I said kiss me.”
She backed away, shaking her head but he held up a finger of warning. “Kiss me or there will be no more discussions.”
She froze, bile rising in her throat. Dear God, did this man have no mercy? Forcing her feet to move, she shuffled unsteadily to where he was standing. Expectantly, she stood in front of him and prayed fervently that she would not vomit on him.
“Kiss me, Remington,” he repeated.
It suddenly occurred to her that he wished for her to do the kissing. As if she were servicing him. Like a whore. She stood on her toes and pecked him lightly on the lips, backing away so fast she nearly tripped. He frowned.
“That was not a kiss,” he said. “When I said kiss me, I meant it. Let me feel your tongue.”
She let out a whimper and closed her eyes, hanging her head. “Guy, why must you…?”
“Kiss me!” he snapped. “Do it or I will speak with you no further.”
She had to get it over with; arguing with him would be to no avail and she was desperate enough to do almost anything to gain her means.
Thrusting herself forward, she latched onto his lips and pried his mouth open with her tongue, only to be met by his eager response.
Frightened and sickened, she pulled away as quickly as it started and staggered away from him, truly fearful that she would become ill.
Guy smiled. “You see? That was not so bad.”
She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, ashamed and disgusted. “Get on with it, Guy. What are your terms?”
He was smiling smugly at her. He wandered away from the window and seated himself comfortably in a chair. His gaze was lingering, while hers was hateful. The tension in the room was building as far as she was concerned, but he seemed very much at ease. Her impatience was growing.
“Go and sit,” he ordered.
Haltingly, she looked for the nearest chair and planted herself rigidly, waiting.
Guy continued to stare at her, entirely too confident.
“You will sit there for the remainder of the hour,” he said finally, his voice quiet.
“You will not say a word, and you will return to me tomorrow when I have decided just what precisely my terms are. And I will have terms have no doubt. And you will not tell de Russe what has transpired during this hour. Is that clear?”
Stunned, she nodded. She knew him well enough to know there was nothing more to say; she had heard the tone before, and she was scared to death of it.
When Gaston opened the door an hour later, she bolted from the room as if her hair was on fire.