“As long as you remain useful I will retain you,” he said after a moment. “But you are not a primary concern for the moment.”
Remington knew that; she was used to being forgotten and cast aside. Gaston gazed at the room a moment longer before rounding the desk toward her, his massive body filling the room like nothing she had ever experienced before. He was a few feet away, yet she could feel the heat from his body like a roaring blaze and her face began to feel warm.
“I would eat now,” he told her, his voice quiet yet amazingly low and powerful.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I have ordered mutton prepared a variety of ways my lord. I hope they are to your liking.”
He did not answer as she opened the door and preceded him from the room. She did not wait for him, nor did she pause to allow him to pass before her. She continued into the great hall, her head lowered, feeling far more despondent than she had earlier. She had even lost her appetite, her eyes seeking out her sisters to make sure all had gone well in her absence. All she wanted to do now was make sure the knights were taken care of and retire for the evening. Her head was beginning to ache.
Gaston was behind her, watching the delicious sway of her hips underneath the yellow surcoat. She was obviously intelligent and well spoken, which piqued his interest, but he had more important things on his mind than this woman. He took the seat she indicated at the head of the table between Arik and Patrick.
“The food is delicious,” Patrick remarked.
Nicolas, his younger brother by four years, had a mouthful of mutton. “This place is full of food and pretty wenches. A delightful castle.”
Gaston ignored them both and dug into a trencher full of roast mutton and carrots. The gravy was rich and the food well prepared and he found he was far hungrier than he had thought. Behind him, along the wall, the four sisters hovered out of sight, making sure all was flowing smoothly.
Remington’s apprehension was fading but her stomach was still in knots. She was terribly uncertain about her future, the future of her family, but too terrified to press the Dark Knight for any more information. She would simply have to wait, remain useful and obedient, and pray he allowed them all to stay.
Nicolas put his goblet to his mouth, drinking deeply of his ale. When he pulled the goblet away, his face was ringed with a huge black outline the shape of the edge of the goblet. It looked like a silly, painted-on smile and he was completely oblivious as he dug into his turnips.
Antonius was the first to see it. The wine he had been preparing to swallow went flying across the table, spraying Patrick in the face. Patrick cursed loudly and demanded an explanation when Antonius pointed to his brother, too weak with laughter to explain himself. Patrick took one look at Nicolas’ face and burst into hysteria.
“What?” Nicolas asked, food hanging from his mouth. “What’s so funny?”
The other knights saw it and chuckled, pointing and snorting at Nicolas’ expense. Only Gaston and Arik were not laughing. Arik cocked an eyebrow at Nicolas while Gaston simply went back to his food.
“What is the matter?” Nicolas demanded hotly.
Patrick, snickering, rubbed at the black line and pulled his finger away to show his brother the charcoal. Instantly, Nicolas was incensed and he shot to his feet.
“What is this?” he demanded. “Who did this?”
Rory couldn’t stand it. She started to laugh, stamping her feet. “My God, you pompous fool. Can you not take a joke?”
Remington felt a bolt of shock go through her. “Rory!”
Rory was laughing, thinking her joke to be most funny. Skye, her mouth open, pressed herself against the wall as if to fade into it while Jasmine, in total denial, fainted dead away to the floor. Remington was beside herself.
“He looks like an idiot, do not you think?” Rory said to her sister.
Remington clamped her agape mouth shut and rushed to her sister, grabbing her by the arm. “Damn you, Rory, you are going to get us all killed.” she hissed. “Get out of here!”
“Nay!” Nicolas boomed, cutting off Rory and Remington’s escape route. “I shall teach the wench a lesson she shall never forget.”
“Please, my lord, I beg not.” Remington pleaded. “I promise you this will never happen again.”
“You shall teach me no lesson, you saddle-brained oaf,” Rory announced. “I would like to see you try!”
Nicolas reached for Rory, but the redhead was too fast for him. She yanked away from her sister and the knight, moving out of arm’s distance and bumping Patrick in the process. Wine sloshed out of his cup and onto Gaston, who reached out and grasped Rory by the scruff of the neck.
The room went silent. The knights froze, as did Remington. Jasmine, being helped up by Skye, saw what was happening and slid to the floor once more. Remington did not know what to do; she was seized with panic. God only knew it never helped to plead with her husband when he was assaulting her sisters, butthis man wasn’t her husband. He was the Dark Knight. God help them all.
She could only try to plead her sister’s case. If she did not, then Rory was certainly doomed. She thought mayhap to prostrate herself at the Dark Knight’s feet but her legs were shaking so she couldn’t seem to move correctly. Instinctively, she reached out and covered the massive hand that held her sister with her own soft, warm hand.
“Please, my lord, do not be harsh with her,” she begged softly. “She is young and spirited and unused to the grand presence of knights. I fear her warped sense of humor overrides her judgment at times.”
Gaston looked into the crystal-clear eyes, the sweet face, and realized that he was actually listening to her. He’d never listened to a woman in his life. And her hand… by God, he could feel the warmth of it all the way up to his shoulder. And the softness, like the finest silk, caressed him although she had not so much as moved her hand in that manner. Her touch was beseeching, imploring.
