Chapter Thirty-Three #4
Remington fell silent, thinking of plain Lady Ingilsby.
She couldn’t help but remember when Alex Ingilsby had pleaded with her to run away with him, declaring his affection for her.
It had been so hard for him to admit his feelings, as he was shy and somewhat reserved, and she had been as kind as she could when she declined his offer. He was such a tremendously nice man.
“Lord Ingilsby traveled to London to testify on my behalf for the annulment hearing, you know,” she said softly. “I was told he was a most powerful witness.”
“He was,” Hubert concurred. “I accompanied him and he was most passionate, which I found surprising. He is usually a quiet man.”
Remington did not say anymore, afraid of where the conversation would lead.
She was married to one man and the lover of another.
If Hubert discovered that still another man had declared his want for her, she would appear as nothing more than a whore.
She did not want him to think less of Gaston because he loved a whore.
Yet he already knew she had bore Gaston twins, and that she had been committing adultery with him for a year.
Still, his manner and words indicated nothing but the highest respect for the man.
If he did not greatly regard Gaston, then he would not be risking his life to save his lover from her legal husband.
It never occurred to her that he would think less of her for the life she had chosen. She was simply worried that he would perceive Gaston differently. And with the humiliation the man had suffered through the hands of his wife and former king, she would not allow that to happen.
They rode quietly for a short while. As they passed Wakefield and drew closer to Leeds, activity on the road increased.
Remington eyed the peasants and travelers on the road suspiciously, as if she expected every one of them to seek out her husband and tell him exactly where she was.
But other than a glance or two, no one seemed to show any interest in her or the knight at all.
They skirted Leeds and Hubert spurred his destrier into a jogging trot. The great bouncy gait made Remington burp very unladylike and she was embarrassed, hoping he would either slow or speed up the pace. Much more of the jostling and she was sure she would bounce right off.
Hubert took them off the main route and onto a smaller, less traveled road. Whereas the main course dipped and curved into the towns it serviced, the less-worn road plowed straight and true north. Ripley wasn’t far off.
The afternoon faded. Remington felt boneless, weary and weak as she lay against Hubert’s broad chest. His armor was hard and cold, but it comforted her. It reminded her of Gaston.
Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of him. She knew he was pursuing her, but her heart ached when she realized he knew nothing of her fate. The panic and the pain he was surely feeling brought tears to her eyes. How she wished she could comfort him, convince him she was sound and whole.
Her arms pained to hold him, and her lips quivered to kiss him. God, how she hurt for him.
Tears came but she dashed them away discreetly, hoping Hubert would not sense her sadness. She had no right to be sad; after all, he had saved her from certain humiliation and death. She tried to steady herself, to think ahead to Ripley, and to Gaston.
Hubert heard her sniffling, sympathy for her situation squeezing at him. He patted her arm gently.
“No need for tears, my lady. We shall soon be safe at Ripley.”
She nodded, drying at her eyes. “I know that. Forgive me for being foolish, Hugh,” she turned to look at him, forcing her face to brighten. “I have thought of a way to repay you for your sacrifice. I swear to you that I will name my next male child Hubert, if indeed I have another child.”
He smiled weakly. “No need, my lady. A simple thanks will be quite sufficient.”
Her smiled faded, sincerity filling her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded vaguely, tearing his eyes away from her consuming gaze. It was not difficult to see why Sir Gaston was so deeply in love with her.
They were riding through a light bank of trees and Remington heard the rushing of water not far off. Thinking it to be a delightful place to stop, if just for a moment, she turned to Hubert.
But her words died in her throat. Suddenly, Hubert was hit from behind so forcefully that both he and Remington went pitching off his destrier.
Dazed, Remington struggled to her knees only to hear a piercing hoot that made her hair stand on end. Panicked, she fought to gain her footing just as she heard a sword unsheathe behind her.
Hubert was on his feet, disoriented and shaken, but otherwise unharmed. He started to yell at Remington, but was cut off as two men charged him from the trees, barbarians from the way they were dressed. As the two rushed him, another man closed in on Remington.
She saw him coming, big and hairy and unkempt. With a scream, she bolted for the destrier, hoping to find a weapon strapped to the saddle.
The horse, however, saw her charging for him and began to snort and dance, preparing to fight.
Fortunately, Remington looked up from her panic and saw the animal’s agitated state.
Thinking quickly, she continued to dash and wave her arms, working the horse into a frenzy.
Praying she was fast enough, she veered sharply from the animal just as he started to charge.
The horse did not care who he injured. The big, hairy accoster was confronted by a very angry warhorse that proceeded to bite his arm nearly in half. Screaming and howling, the man stumbled back the way he came.
But the reprieve was short lived. There was another man ready to take his place, barreling toward Remington like a runaway wagon.
Over to her left, Hubert had dispatched one man and was struggling with the other.
He was quick and efficient, and the unintelligent bandits were no match for him.
Two dead men lay at his feet as Remington rushed toward him for protection.
The man rushing toward Remington had a weapon in his hand, a thick broadsword, tarnished and dirty. Just as Remington ducked behind Hubert, the man was upon the knight and the sound of metal against metal clanged loudly in the still summer air.
Remington stood back, panting loudly with fright as Hubert engaged the tall, youngish man. Her hands clutched at her throat in fear, cringing every time the alloy swords came together.
The fight was ferocious and bitter. Hubert fought extremely well against the man, who seemed as if he intended to chop his quarry to death. His strokes were jerky, harsh, and unskilled, but there was a great deal of power behind them.
Suddenly there were hands grabbing her from behind and she let out a whoop of shock and terror. Someone had her around the waist, pulling her up off the ground and breaking for the nearest thicket.