“For being a nuisance,” Jasmine answered saucily.
“And for sending Rory to the vault,” Skye sneered, sticking her tongue out at him for good measure.
Nicolas pursed his lips together angrily. “Is that so? Well, it would seem that the two of you could use the same discipline your sister sampled.”
He took one step and they scattered, screaming and shrieking and dodging around him in their haste to exit. He grabbed for each girl in turn, missing the both of them, and rapidly whirled on his heels to give chase.
They would feel the flat side of his palm against their backsides, too.
They made a crazy trio, Jasmine and Skye screaming in terror, or mayhap delight, their skirts hiked up around their thighs as a knight in heavy armor chased after them.
The ladies took him up two flights of stairs, racing madly down corridors and then plunging downstairs again. Nicolas lost some ground, but he never gave up. He was intent on catching the two misfits and he would have them.
Nicolas was descending another flight of stairs when his eye caught a bucket with a ladle in it, perched on a ledge. He snatched the bucket and tossed the ladle aside, the devious little boy in him planning to give the women a taste of their own medicine. They had run a circle and were back in the same corridor that they had started in; sooner or later they would make the mistake of passing him, thinking he had given up chase.
With a sinister chuckle, he ducked into the solar.
Remington entered the corridor, her mind still on her reaction to Arik when he had literally saved her life. He had put his hands on her and she had jumped like a boar in a snare. She was deeply embarrassed at her reaction; she had not even thanked him for saving her from the wagon. But the more she walked, the calmer she became, and she vowed to make it up to Sir Arik at supper. Mayhap she could make up for her lack of manners by playing her flute for him. She hoped he would forget about the incident.
The corridor was warm and she fanned herself furiously as she made her way to the solar. She was an avid fan of Greek and Roman writers, as was Guy, and his solar was filled with mythology. Not only Greek and Roman, but Gaul and Celt as well. She loved to lose herself in the stories, and a hot day was an outstanding opportunity.
She suspected nothing as she turned to enter the solar and was flabbergasted when she was hit in the face with a great gush of water. Instinctively, she let out a whoop of surprise.
“My lady.” Nicolas was horrified; the bucket in his hand clattered to the floor. “My God. I thought you were…oh, my sweet Lord. I thought you were your sisters.”
Remington opened her eyes and looked down at herself; she was completely soaked. Her face, her hair, the entire front of her dress was soaked to the skin. She looked up at Nicolas, her mouth agape, when she was struck by the horror on his face. The man was literally white with shock.
She couldn’t help it; laughter began to bubble up and before she could stop herself, she was screaming with laughter. Nicolas looked at her as if she was quite mad, but her laughter was infectious. Relieved she wasn’t angry, he joined in her laughter. In fact, they both looked rather comical; soaked through.
Jasmine and Skye appeared in the hall several doors down, their faces a mask of surprise.
“Remi. He got you,” Jasmine declared.
Remington looked at her sisters, her laughter fading and a twinkle of mischief coming to her eye. “Aye, he did. And for revenge, I will getyou.”
Jasmine and Skye screamed and tore off as if the devil were chasing them. Remington snatched the bucket from the floor and raced off after them, wet surcoat and all.
At the end of the hall was a stone cylinder filled with water. She dipped the bucket in and continued after her sisters, albeit more slowly than before. But she was determined to catch them.
Dane and Charles found her in the upper hall and joined her on her quest when she told them of recent events. Each armed with a bucket of water, they went in search of Jasmine and Skye.
Gaston entered the castle seeking Lady Stoneley. He was barely into the structure when he met up with Jasmine and Skye, their faces flushed from running.
They stumbled to a halt in front of him, curtseying clumsily. He eyed them as they staggered and bobbed, looking over their shoulder as if any moment they expected Satan to appear.
“Where is Lady Stoneley?” he asked, wondering at their strange state.
Jasmine blinked. “Uh…behind us, my lord,” she said. “Up the stairs.”
Skye looked mortified but supported her sisters’ explanation. “Aye, she is. Up the stairs.”
He nodded curtly and they scattered like chickens. Raising his eyebrow at their curious behavior, he took the narrow flight of stairs to his immediate right.
Remington saw the shadow on the wall and pressed herself flat against the opposite wall, shushing her giddy companions harshly. Poised with their buckets, they waited for the shadow togrow closer. They were so caught up in their joke that they failed to notice the distinct sounds of armor approaching until it was too late.
Remington caught sight of the armored boot in time to halt her own assault, but she was too late to stop Dane and Charles. They let the water fly and Gaston walked right into a downpour.
For a moment, no one moved. Remington’s bucket clattered to the floor in absolute horror as Gaston shook his head in one quick movement, splattering water on the stone walls. His eyes rolled open slowly and he focused on Remington.
