“God, Remi, you are so sweet,” he breathed against her neck.
She was a quivering shell of desire, completely lacking her own will or the power to speak. Gaston and his marvelous touch had made her feel more wonderful in this moment than Guy had managed in nine years of marriage. Had she stopped to think of it, she would have been astonished.
His hand was on the move again, drifting up to the swell of her breast. Her first instinct was to bolt away from him, butwhen his fingers delicately traced the underside of her breast, she trembled again and held her breath in anticipation of the next step.
She did indeed consciously moan when his fingers pinched her nipple, rolling it into a hard pellet. Her breathing came fast and furious as his hand closed over her entire breast, massaging it expertly. Hands that were causing her to melt right into the mattress.
The robe was opened wide and he descended on her breast with a great sigh of pleasure. She cried out softly, her hands entwined in his thick black hair, completely consumed with the feelings he was causing within her. Surely there was nothing on this earth sweeter than Gaston and his sure touch.
“Mummy?” a soft voice floated into the dim room.
Gaston’s head came up, as did Remington’s. They looked at each other a moment before Gaston discreetly pulled the ends of her robe together and pushed himself off of her.
Remington sat up quickly; too quickly, but Dane did not notice. He also did not notice her flushed cheeks and guilty expression.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked him.
He moved into the room, eyeing Gaston. “I heard you cry. What’s the matter?”
Remington was thankful of two things at the moment; that her son was too young to realize what was going on, and that the room was too dark to see the scarlet color of her cheeks.
“Nothing, Dane,” she swallowed. “Go back to bed, now. ’Tis almost dawn.”
Dane was looking at Gaston. “What were you doing to my mother? You were squashing her.”
Gaston was remarkably composed. He stood from the bed, adjusting his breeches inconspicuously. “Where is your sword? A good knight never leaves his sword behind, Dane.”
Dane’s eyes widened. “I shall go get it right now.”
Gaston grabbed hold of the lad as he tried to dash off. “Nay, lad, do not worry about it now, but remember for future reference. As it is, you should do as you mother says and return to bed.”
He directed the boy toward the connecting door and on into the bedchamber. She could hear him speaking steadily to her son, coaxing him back to bed. It occurred to her that Guy had never once tucked his son into bed, never once used a soothing tone with him. Over all of her raging emotions, her heart warmed as Gaston put her son to bed with his new sword.
He returned to her bedchamber after a moment, closing the adjoining door softly.
“He’s in bed but I doubt he shall go back to sleep,” he said with a faint grin. “He seems convinced that, somehow, I was intent on harming you.”
“’Tis all he has ever known, Gaston,” she said softly. “He is nearly as skittish as I am at times.”
His features hardened. “No longer.”
She gazed up at him remembering his mouth on her flesh. A warm, fluid sensation filled her until she thought she would slither to the floor. It was overwhelming, wonderful and confusing.
He met her eyes intensely, knowing what she was feeling because he was feeling it, too. He cleared his throat. “I have a few items that need tending, my lady. I will see you after sunrise.”
She nodded, too dazed to answer him. Her mind was swirling with emotions and feelings until she was dizzy with it all. Yet when she heard the latch unbolt, she snapped out of her trance.
“Rory asked me when you first arrived if I was to be your whore,” she mumbled. “I slapped her. But she was right, wasn’t she?”
“I think we just covered that particular area,” he said, although his tone was not unkind. “You shall not be my whore.”
“Then what?” she looked at him searchingly. “What will I be?”
He lowered his gaze. He couldn’t answer her, at least not at this moment. Silently, he quit the room.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thankfully, Dane hadindeed fallen back to sleep and had forgotten all about walking in on his mother and the Dark Knight. Moreover, this was a special day for him; his mother had promised him that on Wednesday he could go to the Mid-Summer Faire in the neighboring town of Ripon. Remington had forgotten all about it until he had burst into the middle of her bath, telling her of all the marvelous things he was going to purchase with his coinage.
