Arms around her only meant pain and humiliation. She hated to be touched as a result of her husband’s abuse and as Gaston had learned, she quickly turned into a hurricane ofterror when cornered. But thoughts of Gaston’s arms flooded her mind, arms so strong and beautiful that they made her feel faint. She had slept in his arms, better than she had slept in years.
He stood up, holding his hand out to her just as another slow ballad began. She gazed up at him and he could read the terror and hesitation and smiled gently.
“Dance with me, angel,” he said softly. “I promise I shall be gentle.”
She did not want to be held by anyone…but the thought of his arms around her brought unfamiliar feelings of warmth and comfort. Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. The next time she looked at him, her eyes were welling with confused tears and he stopped.
“Oh, Remi, forgive me,” he whispered. “I will not make you do something you are uncomfortable with.”
To his surprise, she stood firm. “Nay, I will dance with you,” she sniffed, dashing away the tears. But he wasn’t moving, instead, he was pulling her chair out again. “Gaston, truly. I shall dance with you. I think…I think I need to dance with you.”
His eyes studied her closely to see what exactly she meant. Weakly, she smiled. “I have not danced in years. I think I need to dance this night. If not with you, then with someone else.”
“Like hell,” he stood his full height. “You will dance with me and me alone. I forbid another man to touch you.”
He led her out onto the dance floor and took her in his arms with infinite tenderness. She stiffened instinctively, but forced herself to calm, giving in to his warm arms. With great skill, he swung her into the group of revelers.
They danced three dances together. Color flushed Remington’s cheeks and she found it hard to believe that she was actually enjoying herself, but she was and it was all of Gaston’s doing. He was a wonderful dancer and she was growing moreenchanted with him by the minute. He could make her laugh; make her feel as if she were the most beautiful woman on earth.
The same minstrel who tried to dance with her the night before tried to cut in on Gaston, who sent the man cowering with an icy glare. Remington laughed, cradled in his arms, thinking that someday she might even like being held by a man. It was certainly easy to tolerate Gaston.
Arik found Gaston on the outer wall late that evening, well after the castle had retired for the evening. The world around them was still but for the crickets chirping in the trees and the soft whistle of the wind over the landscape. Above, the nearly full moon bathed the land in a silver glow.
“What are you doing?” Arik came upon him where he was leaning over the ledge of the wall, inspecting the grounds below.
Gaston flicked his hand in the direction of Brimley’s camp, a half mile in the distance. “Watching.”
“Any activity?” Arik could see the faint glow from the pyre.
“None,” Gaston replied. “Seems they are all sleeping like babes. Theymusttrust us.”
Arik smirked. “Fools,” he turned his back on the wall, leaning back and looking up to the sky. “I heard you convinced Lady Stoneley to dance tonight.”
“After much pleading and coaxing,” Gaston confirmed. “She not only looks like an angel, she dances like one. In fact, there is not one thing about the woman that is imperfect and at times she makes me feel most inferior.”
Arik looked at him, gushing like a smitten boy. He had never seen him so…open. He should have been thrilled for him, but he found he was skeptical instead.
“You are quite taken with Lady Stoneley, aren’t you?” he asked carefully.
Gaston shrugged. “I enjoy her company if that’s what you mean.”
“It is not what I mean and you know it,” Arik said. “What was it you told Antonius? Keep your mind on your business, not on Lady Stoneley?”
Gaston’s jaw flexed. “Your point being?”
Arik looked at him a moment. “She is married, Gaston. And so are you.”
Gaston stood up, angrily. “I do not need you to remind me of that fact, my friend, for I am only too aware of it,” he snapped. “I enjoy Lady Stoneley on a conversational level and that is the extent of it. I have no time for mistresses.”
Arik was fully aware of the thin ice he tread upon. He was acquainted with the Dark Knight’s temper, and fists, and took several steps back, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “If you ask my opinion, my lord, there is more to it than that. I would say you were quite taken with the woman, as I have indicated before. And she’s scared to death of you.”
“Why do you say that?” Gaston demanded.
Arik shook his head in a helpless gesture. “Guy has scarred her terribly, Gaston,” he said. “You have probably seen more examples of that than I, and it’s obvious that you frighten her. Not in the physical sense, but more on the emotional level. She is attracted to you, I think, and afraid of her feelings.”
Gaston looked at his friend a moment, his great body relaxing. He turned back to the wall. “I enjoy her company. That is all”
Something on the wall caught his attention; Gaston looked over Arik’s shoulder to see Remington on the far end of the western wall, making her way toward him. Arik swung around and caught sight of her.
