Gaston gazed down at the boy. “I would have had I been there, Dane.”
Hurt and confused, Dane moved to his mother and gently touched her arm. “Just like father all over again.”
Arik and Gaston exchanged glances. Arik moved away from the bed, leaving Gaston standing alone.
Jasmine put her hand over Dane’s mouth, silencing him against any further slips. The boy struggled against his aunt a moment, pulling away and moving to the other side of the bed where he could touch his mother unimpeded. The sadness on the young face spoke volumes.
He already knew Guy had abused them both, but he had no idea to what extent the abuse went. He should not have cared in the least; this was another man’s wife and son. Yet he found himself caring a great deal.
“Get out. All of you,” he growled. “Except you, Dane. You may stay.”
Jasmine opened her mouth in outrage but Skye grabbed hold of her, pleading with her sister to be silent. Arik made sure they left the room, eyeing old Eudora menacingly until she complied. When the women had vacated, he closed the door softly behind them.
“Gaston…” he began.
“You, too,” Gaston said, his voice as low as the rumble of thunder. “Get out.”
Arik did without a word, leaving Gaston alone with the mother and son.
Slowly, he moved around the side of the bed and picked up the compress Eudora had been preparing. As gentle as a mother,he placed it on Remington’s head, observing her delicate features in the glow of the firelight. He was unaware Dane was watching him.
“Why did not you protect her? You said you would,” Dane said softly. He was growing sleepy.
Gaston looked up at the innocent face. “I told you that I was not present when this happened. Had I been there, your mother would not have been injured,” he said. “I am not a magician, Dane. I cannot be everywhere at the same time.”
Dane looked at his mother with longing. “Why does she not wake up?”
“I am awake,” Remington mumbled.
Gaston removed the compress. Slowly, the sea-crystal eyes opened and blinked lethargically. She focused on him for a moment before closing her eyes again.
“Be swift with your punishment, my lord,” she whispered. “I am ready to accept your judgment.”
“There will be no punishment, my lady,” he replied softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. The entire side of the bed sank under his considerable weight and Remington rolled right into him. She moaned at the swift motion, grasping her head as he reached out to steady her against him. Her torso was pressed against his left thigh.
“No punishment?” she repeated, wincing.
A crease of a smile appeared. “I consider what happened to you punishment enough. But tell me one thing; why did you do it?”
Remington opened her eyes, looking up at him. His expression was actually gentle. “Because she has done nothing to warrant imprisonment. Aye, she’s a spitfire and a handful, but she is not malicious. Her jokes are innocent, my lord. Rory is not evil.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You mean to say that you do not consider saffron dye in a knight’s bath to be malicious? What of the charcoal on Nicolas’ cup?”
“Harmless,” she whispered. Her head was killing her. “Were she to have taken a dagger to him, then I would deem the punishment to fit the crime. But she has done nothing other than a few harmless pranks.”
He considered her explanation a moment. “Then why did you not simply come to me and ask me to release her?”
“Would you have done it?” she asked softly. “I doubt it.”
“You reason well enough, madam. After I heard your argument, I most likely would have reconsidered,” he said. “I will always listen to you.”
Her eyes opened again and she looked strangely at him. “Why?”
He actually smiled and her insides jiggled enough to make her nauseous. “As I said, you reason well. Your intelligence is worth listening to.”
“Then you will let Rory go?” she asked hopefully.
“Not unless we come to an agreement,” he said firmly. “I will not have her disrupting my household by playing childish jokes on my knights. The next man she plays a trick on may not be as tolerant as Nicolas.”
