Chapter Twelve #3
She shook her head every so faintly, her eyes still closed.
He gazed at her bloody hair, stained neck, thinking he had never been more relieved over anything in his life.
The panic, the fear he had felt during those bleak moments when he thought she might have been killed were the very worst moments of his life and he was grateful to whatever God watching over them that she was alive.
Had the knife found its mark a couple of inches lower, or mayhap a bit more to the center of her chest, he would have lost her for sure.
His stomach twisted painfully at the thought and he wearily chased the horrifying ideals away.
He could not lose her, not when she was becoming his all for living.
Mari-Elle would pay dearly for her transgression. He already hated her so much he was beyond hating her any more.
Eudora returned a half hour later to find him sitting on the floor next to the bed, Remington clutching his right hand to her breast. She entered silently with a tray, gazing down upon Remington’s sleeping head.
“Can you remove your hand to eat?” she whispered to Gaston as she set the tray down.
He was desperately tired. He let out a long sigh as he glanced at Remington’s sleeping face.
“I tried once and she started to cry.” Carefully, slowly, he dislodged his hand and was glad when she continued to sleep.
Rising stiffly, he looked over at the food and drink on the tray.
“Thank you, Eudora. I am rather famished now that I think on it.”
The old woman flushed at the use of her name by the mighty and powerful Dark Knight. “My pleasure, my lord. Would you like me to return later to sit with her so that you can get some sleep?”
Gaston took a sip of the hot, spicy wine. “Nay, madam, I will remain with her. Dane will need you, as will her sisters. I can take care of Lady Remington.”
Eudora nodded and moved for the door. Suddenly, she paused, her gaze falling on Remington once more. “Lord Stoneley… he did not care for her as a husband should,” she looked embarrassed to be voicing her thoughts. “I am glad that you are kind to her, my lord. She’s had so little kindness.”
He looked at the old woman a moment before gazing to Remington. He took another satisfying sip of his warmed wine. “Your concern is appreciated.”
Eudora lowered her gaze and slipped from the room.
Gaston stood there and drank his wine, watching Remington sleep with an overwhelming sense of possessiveness.
Never again would she be unprotected, out of his sight or no.
He wondered what had transpired, how Mari-Elle had found her and how the fight began.
All questions she would answer later, for he intended to ask only one question of Mari-Elle before he cut her heart out.
What in the world possessed you, madam?
He was half-finished with his meat pie when there was a knock on the door. Annoyed at being disturbed, he answered it with a less than pleasant expression.
Jasmine stood hesitantly in the corridor and he raised his eyebrows expectantly at her.
“My lord, Dane is not in his room, and he is not with Charles in the tower,” she said reluctantly. “Might you know where he would be?”
Gaston leaned heavily on the door, having difficultly believing the course this night was taking. It was hard to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “Nay, I do not. Call to the soldier at the base of the stairs and tell him to send Patrick and Antonius to me, please.”
Jasmine scooted away and Gaston closed the door, moving to put his sword back on. Between Remington, Dane and Mari-Elle, it would appear that he would get no rest this night; yet, truly, he was far too worked up to sleep.
With Eudora and Patrick inside the chamber and four soldiers guarding the door, Gaston felt confident enough to leave Remington and go in search of Dane.
As much as he hated to leave her, he felt a distinct sense of foreboding at the boy’s absence; if Mari-Elle was capable of stabbing the mother, there was no telling what she might do to a defenseless boy.
He did not even know if Mari-Elle had been located yet, for Arik had yet to return to him.
All he knew was that he had to find the boy and see for himself that he was all right.
Sending Jasmine off to bed, he took Antonius with him in search of Dane.
The first place he went to was Charles’ tower room. The lad was up, even in the middle of the night, hunched over a table reading a leather-worn book. Gaston and Antonius entered the open door, casting an interested eye over the mysterious room.
“My lord Gaston,” Charles hopped off his stool. “Jasmine told me of Remi’s misfortune. How can I serve you?”
Gaston cocked an eyebrow at the symbol of a pentagram. “Mayhap you have a sorcerer’s cauldron to tell me where to find Dane?”
Charles grinned. “Nay, my lord, no magic. Only experiments and such. Pray, did you check the stables?”
“Not yet,” Gaston replied. “But I shall. I only came here to make sure he wasn’t turned into a table or vanished into the walls.”
“I swear to you, I know no magic,” Charles reiterated. “But I shall help you search for him if you wish.”
Gaston waved the boy with him and Charles leapt at the chance to work side by side with the Dark Knight, however small the task.