Chapter Three #5
Remington was looking at the knight as if she expected him to draw his sword at any moment and run her through. Anger at her sister and complete terror were running neck and neck.
“My lord,” she croaked. “I am so terribly sorry. I shall punish Rory severely for her transgressions. Pray forgive, my lord.”
Arik looked at her, picking up his napkin to wipe his mouth and then suddenly remembering the dye in it. He tossed it to the floor and ripped Antonius’ napkin from his hand, daintily dabbing at his lips.
“Nay, madam, I am sure that will not be necessary,” he said steadily. “If I know Nicolas, and I do, your sister will have punishment enough.”
Remington’s eyes widened with fright but she said nothing.
Her gaze shifted once again to the archway her sister had disappeared through, wondering what was transpiring.
Was he raping her, or worse? She tore her gaze away, moving to Jasmine and Skye plastered against the wall by the hearth. Quickly, she moved to them.
“Get out of here,” she whispered. “Go find out where that knight has taken Rory.”
“And then what?” Jasmine whined. “We can do nothing against him.”
“Shush,” Remington hissed sharply, glancing over her shoulder towards the Dark Knight to make sure he had not overheard. “Just do as I say. Go find Rory.”
Like blond wispy fairies, Jasmine and Skye slipped from the room, leaving Remington and the servants to deal with the hoard of men rapidly drinking themselves happy. Remington was glad to be rid of them for that latter fact, as well. She did not want her sisters to fall victim to drunken soldiers.
The meal progressed to empty trenchers and a good deal of loud, wet belching.
Remington continued to stand in the corner and direct servants, making sure goblets were kept full.
Oleg emerged from the kitchens and stood silent watch with her, fully aware of what had happened with Rory.
He, too, was concerned for the spirited sister but did not voice his concerns. It would only upset Remington.
As the evening rolled toward midnight and the knights had taken to singing and games to entertain themselves, Remington decided it was time for her to retire.
She’d had enough of men in armor and merriment in their fashion.
She was weary to the bone and worried for her sister, and only wished to vacate the hall to see to her own needs.
Leaving Oleg in charge, she moved quietly to the Dark Knight’s table.
As she came closer she was aware of her twisting stomach, anxiety for the mountainous man. She was positive that after this evening he would banish them all with good riddance, and she furthermore did not blame him. But she prayed, just the same, that he would be merciful.
“My lord,” she curtsied by his chair. “I would ask your permission to retire for the eve.”
He glanced disinterestedly at her. “The night is young, madam. Are you not planning on eating?”
“Nay, my lord,” she said. “This meal was meant for you and your knights to enjoy, without intrusion of the people of Mt. Holyoak. If I may bid you good-night, then.”
He studied her manner, extremely careful and respectful.
She had the look about her like a frightened doe, which most people did when confronted with the Dark Knight.
He was used to it, immune to it, but for some reason, he did not want her to look at him like that…
look at him as if he were going to tear her arms from her sockets.
“Very well,” he flicked his wrist. “Retire, lady of Mt. Holyoak.”
The knights watched her back out, far more respectful than most women. It was subservient to the point of over-reactive.
“She is a beauty,” Antonius observed when she was gone. “I know Sir Guy Stoneley. He is an evil bastard on the best of days and I certainly did not expect that he would have such a beautiful creature for a wife.”
Arik stared at the empty doorway a moment longer, before looking back to his goblet of water. “See how she acts, Antonius? That woman has known nothing but fear her entire life.”
Antonius shook his head and returned to his drink. “Were she mine, she would know nothing but pleasure and happiness. Ah, what a damn pity.”
“Nay, the pity is that she must deal with that wild sister,” Patrick said. “We shall have to watch that redhead. If she is bold enough to play tricks on our first night here, there is no telling what more she is capable of.”
“Sleep lightly, lads,” Gaston rumbled, watching the dance of the fire over the rim of his cup. “She shall not be sated until she has humiliated every one of us.”
“Damnable Yorkist,” Patrick said lowly. “I shall have her head if she tries anything with me.”
“She’s not a Yorkist, she’s a pretty young girl,” Arik said, his lips and face still red. “I would bet money that she would not care if this house was loyal to the prince of Persia. Nay, what she does, she does for revenge on the male sex.”
Patrick looked at him and smiled broadly. “I cannot take you seriously, man, when your lips are as red as a court whore’s.”
Arik lifted an eyebrow and put his drink to his lips. “Beware, lad, or I shall kiss you fully.”
Antonius sat back in his chair with a sigh, mesmerized by the flames and feeling his fatigue. “I wonder what it would be like to kiss Lady Stoneley,” he said. “After all, with her husband in the White Tower, she must be fairly lonely.”
“Stay away from Lady Stoneley,” Gaston said, his voice quiet but unmistakable. “She is not for you. Keep your mind on your profession, Antonius, for I will not hear that you have been making a fool of yourself after a married woman.”
Antonius nodded in resignation, but there was a good-natured smile playing on his lips. Turning the conversation back to another subject, he and Patrick became animatedly engaged and forgot all about Lady Stoneley and her sisters. Even Arik joined in, leaving Gaston brooding silently over his wine.
He had not forgotten Lady Stoneley.
*
Rory was not in her room, nor was she in any of her other usual places.
Remington skirted the perimeter of the entire castle looking for her sister but had yet to see a sign of her.
She spied Sir Nicolas entering the castle from the inner bailey alone and her anxiety soared; had he left Rory for dead somewhere, beaten and mauled?
Knowing Rory, she would have not made it easy for the knight to punish her and Remington was terrified for her sister.
Quickly, she descended from the southern tower where she had been searching and made way to the inner bailey in search of Rory.
The flame-haired sister wasn’t hard to find.
She was sniffling and sobbing, carrying on angrily.
Remington heard her cursing and banging about in a small room in the inner wall turret, talking to herself furiously.
Oblivious to the light rain that was falling and the mud on her skirt, Remington entered the dark, dank room.
“Rory?” she asked softly. “What on earth are you doing?”
Rory’s head snapped up, her sea-crystal eyes like flames from hell. “You!” she yelled. “This is your fault. You let them in.”
Remington was gripped with terror. “What did he do to you?”