He and his knights were passing very close to the fortress when he suddenly caught sight of a figure in the distant trees. It was a slight female figure and something told him it was Remington. He did not know how he knew, he just did.
“Continue on,” he told his men.
Arik caught sight of the figure as well. “Who is that?”
Gaston gathered his reins. “Lady Stoneley, I suspect.”
“How do you know that?” Arik wanted to know. “I can barely make out the figure from here.”
Gaston ignored him, spurring his charger in the direction of the trees.
Remington heard him coming. She straightened from her task and shielded her eyes from the bright sun, watching with surprise as the great dark destrier roared towards her. The sheer power and size of man and beast entranced her and she was frozen to the spot, watching with curiosity as he bore down on her.
Aye, she knew who it was. There was no mistaking the Dark Knight, yet she found she was not as fearful as she had been days earlier when he had ridden into her keep. She had five days tobecome accustomed to the idea that he was now her lord and it was easier to control her apprehension. Besides, he had not been cruel to her in any way and she reasoned she had nothing to fear.
The destrier came to an unsteady halt a few feet away, kicking up dirt and rocks. Gaston gazed down on Remington, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. It took him less than a second to realize that he was pleased to see her. By God, he had barely been around the woman and already he was missing her. He should have been angry with himself, but instead, he was actually curious.
“Good day to you, my lady,” he said.
She bobbed a quick curtsey for him. “Good day to you, my lord. Did you enjoy your journey?”
He nodded his helmed head. “Aye,” he replied. “Mt. Holyoak is the jewel of Yorkshire. I am verily pleased with my acquisition.”
She nodded, lowering her gaze. “I bid you welcome home, my lord.”
He glanced around, hearing the birds and studying the undergrowth. But his eyes came back to her lowered head. “What are you doing out here?”
She held up her basket. “Gathering flowers, my lord. For pomades and perfumes.”
“Pomades and perfumes?” he repeated. “Of what sort?”
“Honeysuckle,” she showed him the blossoms from her basket. “Violets, too. And in the garden in the kitchen yard, we have massive bushes of lavender.”
To her surprise, he dismounted his warhorse and lumbered over to her. He was so massive that she was positive the ground quaked when he walked. But she held her ground against the giant, the Dark Knight, as he approached.
He reached up and removed his helm in one clean stroke, his smoky gray eyes meeting her intensely. His hair, like an unruly child’s, hung down over one eye.
“What scent do you prefer?” he asked.
“I favor honeysuckle and the lavender, my lord,” she held up a blossom. “My sister, Jasmine, favors the violet as does my youngest sister, Skye.”
He nodded faintly. “And the redhead?”
“Rory?” Remington put the basket down. “She hates all of it. She would smell like a skunk if we did not force her to bathe once in a while.”
The corner of his lip tugged briefly. “I would meet your sisters today. I have not yet had the chance.”
Suddenly the underbrush behind her began to rustle and a young boy burst through, his hands clutching bunches of flowers.
“Mummy! See what I…,” Dane stopped when he was confronted with the Dark Knight and his young face went pale with fright. “I…I.…”
Remington saw how terrified her son was and went to him, putting her hands protectively on his shoulders. “My lord, this is my son, Dane Stoneley. Dane, this is Sir Gaston de Russe.”
Dane was scared, but not too terrified to remember his manners and bow respectfully. Gaston planted his huge feet apart and crossed his arms, his imposing presence filling the air like the scent of her flowers.
“How old are you, lad?” he asked.
“S-seven years,” Dane replied.
