“By damn. Remington Stoneley, in the flesh.” he crowed. “I have not seen you in over a year, girl. Where are your man-eating sisters?”
Remington smiled broadly at the man and Gaston had to clench his fists to keep from raging out of control. Already, he was making his way toward them, fighting to keep a casual pace.
“What are you doing here, Derek? I heard you were in Manchester,” she said gaily.
The knight was a young, fair, generally dashing man. He waved a careless hand at her. “I was, but I came back here to catch a glimpse of you. You look ravishing, love, as usual.”
She blushed prettily and Gaston nearly exploded. But he kept his calm demeanor, rounding the chargers to stand next to Roald, several feet back, scrutinizing the knights, arms crossed to make their arms bigger and even more imposing.
Dane scooted to his mother and Remington took his hand affectionately. “Dane, do you remember Sir Derek Botmore of Rainton?”
Dane shook his head, suddenly shy, and Sir Derek laughed. “Thank God he looks like you and not his father,” he said, leaning forward in his saddle. “Say, I heard a nasty rumor that Guy was thrown in the White Tower after Bosworth and that Mt. Holyoak is occupied by Henry’s arm. What about that?”
Remington’s smile faded. “Sir Gaston de Russe is our lord now,” she said evenly.
Sir Derek sat back in the saddle, his brow furrowed in deep thought. “De Russe? De Russe? Christ, Calvin, where have I heard that name?”
“The Dark Knight,” the knight on his flank said assuredly. “You have heard of him, Derek. The bastard that betrayed Richard and turned the tides at Bosworth, among other things. He and Matt Wellesbourne go hand in hand when speaking of traitors.”
Derek waved him off. “The White Lord cannot be grouped with de Russe,” he told him. “There is a reason why they call the man the Dark Knight. He is pure evil.”
Remington’s light mood was gone. She hated to hear these men speak so callously of Gaston, even though they spoke the truth. She had never asked him about Bosworth because she honestly did not care; she knew him to be a fine, noble man and knew he must have had his reasons for what he did. Whatever the reason, though, it did not matter to her.
“He is an excellent lord, Calvin, and I will not hear you say such horrible things about him,” she said firmly, motioning to the two knights behind Derek and Calvin, as well. “Surely you are no angel yourself, any of you. George, Robert, do not try to hide behind your visors for I know it to be you. Cowards whochose to pursue the tournament circuit rather than fight for your king.”
Sir Derek put up a hand to silence her. “To each his own, Remington. Calvin meant no harm,” he said. “As to your accusation of cowardice, I beg to differ. It takes a good deal of bravery to fight in tournament after tournament against men who are trying to skin you alive.”
“The same as with on the battlefield, only we get paid for taking risks,” Calvin cut in with a grin. “If I am going to risk life and limb, I want to be well-compensated.”
She shook her head, the mood entirely broken. “You are nothing but little boys. Get out of my sight before I take you all over my knee.”
Derek’s face brightened lewdly. “Me, first.”
Gaston had all he could take from the young idiots. He stepped forward but was caught off guard when Dane latched onto his leg as if afraid of the men who were speaking to his mother. Astonished, he put his hand on the boy to reassure him but continued forward.
“Be gone with you,” he growled. “You have taken enough of the lady’s time.”
The four men were startled by the deep voice and pure size of the man; Gaston found it hard to believe that they had failed to notice him until this moment.
Remington turned to look at him, visions of him snapping the soldier’s neck on her behalf filling her mind. She was suddenly fearful that Derek’s life was in jeopardy, as well.
“Sir Gaston, this is Sir Derek Botmore,” she said quickly. “His father is Lord Botmore, one of the more powerful barons in Yorkshire. They have a large fortress just south of Rainton.”
“Sir Gaston?” Sir Derek repeated in a whisper. “TheSir Gaston?”
“Your father is expected to meet with me soon. I do not want to see you with him when he comes to my keep,” Gaston said.
Derek’s mouth opened in outrage, and then quickly shut it again. “If that is your wish, my lord, then I will oblige you.”
Gaston did not reply. Derek eyed him for a moment longer before looking to Remington.
“Remington, always a pleasure,” he said with a forced smile; he was truly frightened of the massive man with the legendary reputation.
“That is Lady Remington to you, pup,” Gaston took another step forward. “You will show no disrespect to the lady of Mt. Holyoak.”
Derek cleared his throat and slammed his visor down. Reining the chargers a wide berth around Gaston, he and his companions lost themselves in the crowd as they headed for the tournament arena. Gaston turned to watch them go, patting Dane again after a moment.
“Arrogant whelps,” he mumbled.
