“But I am an angel?” she was smirking playfully at him and he found himself swept up by her light, jesting manner.
“Aye, you are that,” he said with a vague tug of the corner of his lips. “A saucy wench, but an angel just the same.”
He quit the room, leaving Remington feeling as if the weight of the entire realm was lifting from her shoulders.
*
“You told him,Remi?” Jasmine asked with disbelief. “Everything?”
Remington, Jasmine, Skye, Charles and Dane were gathered at the small lake near Mt. Holyoak. Charles and Dane were swimming and frolicking in the cool water to stave off the heatwhile the ladies were lounging underneath the trees several feet away.
Remington fanned herself slowly, her lightweight blue surcoat hiked up around her knees. “I did not tell him everything,” she said. “I did not tell him about your babe, Jasmine. He does not need to know that.”
“But why did you tell him anything at all?” Jasmine lamented. “He’s a stranger.”
“He’s lord of Mt. Holyoak now and our master,” Remington replied, sighing. “But to answer you, I do not know why I told him all that I did. He made me feel comfortable and safe, and I told him. He had promised to protect us, and I suppose I wanted him to know what he was protecting us against.”
Jasmine lay back on the grass, her arm resting on her forehead as she gazed up into the old oak tree.
“He was certainly staring at you last night during supper,” Jasmine said softly. “Do you suppose he likes you?”
Remington shrugged. “He told me I looked like an angel,” she said. “He’s not as fearsome as I once thought him to be.”
Jasmine sat up. “You did not answer me. Do you think he likes you?”
“It does not matter if he does or not,” Remington said firmly. “He has a wife and I have a husband. Besides, I do not want a man. I do not even want the one I have.”
Skye looked up from the flower wreath she was weaving. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”
Her sisters looked over their shoulders in the direction of Mt. Holyoak and were not surprised to see four destriers crossing the field towards them, most recognizably the Dark Knight’s charcoal-gray charger.
“Now, I wonder what they are doing here?” Remington said, shading her eyes from the sun. “I thought they were busy building a team house.”
Jasmine’s eyes riveted to Antonius. “Mayhap it was too hot for them.”
The chargers were halted several feet from the ladies and the knights dismounted. The women were surprised to see they wore no armor, merely shirts, breeches and heavy boots. They seemed to shun the tunics and hose so favored by the court men, preferring more sturdy clothing instead. Except for Antonius; he looked like a god in hose and a loose-fitting shirt. Jasmine felt her heart flutter wildly at the sight of him.
Gaston was so large he nearly blotted out the sun as he came upon them. “Good day, ladies.”
Remington smiled at him, fanning herself more forcefully. He always seemed to make her hot. “Good day, Sir Gaston. How is your building coming along?”
“Too damn hot,” he said, moving underneath the shade. “The men are seeking shelter for the afternoon. May I?”
Remington indicated for him to sit beside her and he did, his big body lowering itself gracefully. Nicolas and Arik crouched near Skye, while Antonius smiled at Jasmine. Remington was amused to see her sister flush madly, yet wary at the same time of the knight’s attention.
“I had two men faint on me this morning with this cursed weather, so we decided to call a halt,” Gaston said, his gaze moving out to Charles and Dane in the water. “By God, I have not been swimming since I was a lad.”
“The water is wonderfully cool,” Remington said. “You should refresh yourselves.”
Gaston leaned back on his elbow, lying on his side. “I think not for me. But my men are welcome to.”
“You are too kind,” Arik said drolly. “I am allergic to water.”
“How is that possible since your ancestors were Vikings?” Antonius wanted to know. “You should be a natural to water.”
“What about you? You come from Rome, for God’s sake,” Arik returned. “Yet you so much as look at water and you become seasick. You are a pathetic excuse for a Roman.”
Antonius smiled. “I would have done fine as a centurion or legionnaire. Just not as a sailor.”
