Remington was watching him. He turned to look at her, seeing an expression he had never seen before; her eyes were smiling and her face was almost seductive. There was nothing particular about her expression for she wasn’t truly smiling; it was simply thewayshe was looking at him. His visor went up for the first time since their arrival.
“What is it?” he asked quietly.
“Not a thing, my lord,” she replied, a smile creeping onto her lips.
He was jolted by the entire action, his body tingling with excitement. Before he could press her further, she coyly lowered her lashes and turned away.
Dane let go of his leg but slipped his hand into the great mailed glove. Gaston held his hand tightly as they followedRemington along the line of merchants. Roald, the men-at-arms, and the horses brought up the rear.
Woodcarvers tried to sell them items both useless and common. A merchant dealing in weapons tried to convince Remington that she needed an exquisite bejeweled dagger, but she giggled and politely waved the man off. There were jugglers and acrobats parading up and down the avenue to a long pole. One of them sat Dane in a chair and proceeded to balance the chair atop the pole on his chin as Dane clung to the chair for dear life. Gaston firmly indicated for the man to put the lad down, and he did so. But then Dane begged to be put aloft again and Gaston rolled his eyes, moving the child along before he demanded to join the circus.
Remington watched her son and Gaston together, the affection was evident between them. Dane acted as if Gaston were the most important person in his life and she completely understood; he had never had a true father, nor a real male figure to look up to. He was completely in love with Gaston as only a little boy could be.
Her heart warmed at the interaction, at Gaston’s uncanny ability with the boy. She could see what a wonderful father he was and it softened her and hurt at the same time. She greatly envied Mari-Elle de Russe her husband, for it was something Remington would never have the pleasure of knowing. A man to love her son, and to love her. Once she never even thought of such unattainable things, but seeing Gaston with Dane not only made her think of it, it made herwantit. The thought was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
A perfume merchant made her forget her tears as he tried to sell her on everything he had. She sniffed at a couple of bottles, but nothing caught her attention. Gaston pushed his way forward and picked up one of the bottles, inhaling deeply. Danemaneuvered between his mother and the knight, watching them both eagerly.
“You do not smell perfume like that,” Remington admonished softly. “You sniff it delicately, two or three times to better digest the scent.”
He looked at her seriously and took her advice with the next bottle. His eyebrows lifted with mild approval and he held it out to her for her opinion.
“Ah, lady, your husband knows a fine scent when he smells it,” the merchant gushed. “See if you do not approve of his taste.”
Remington looked at the man in shock; she could barely smell the vial Gaston was offering to her. Strangely, her breathing grew rapid and her insides twisted painfully at the one word the merchant had used;husband. He called Gaston her husband.
It suddenly hit her that she wished for it to be true. Somehow, in the two weeks she had known him, something completely wonderful and utterly devastating had happened. He had endeared himself to her completely as her savior, her hero, her friend, and her son’s idol.
She was in love with him.
She did not want to love him.
“Ah, I see your son has his father’s features,” the merchant continued recklessly. “See if he holds his father’s good taste, as well. See if he likes the perfume, too.”
Remington felt a painful shock go through her and suddenly she was reeling away from the table, rushing away blindly with no destination in mind, simply to get away. She couldn’t control the tears that were gushing freely now, not even knowing why she was crying, but that she was. Every emotion she had ever felt was magnified ten-fold by the merchant’s words, the slap of realization painful to her soul.
Gaston tried to catch her as she whirled away but Dane stood in the way. Quickly, he set the vials down and passed the boy off to Roald.
“Stay here,” he told them.
She had dashed behind the vendor’s shacks and he followed, walking quickly but not running because just one of his strides equaled three of hers. She was several yards ahead of him, dashing into a heavily tree-lined park that was surrounded by peasant huts.
She ducked behind a thick oak. He could still see the rose of her surcoat and saw that she had come to a halt, and he slowed his steps accordingly. Quietly, he came up on the tree and made sure he was in plain view as not to startle her.
She was sobbing against the trunk, her face pressed into her crooked arm.
“Remi, what on earth is the matter?” he asked gently.
She had heard him approach, knowing that he would come for her, but she truly wanted to be alone. She could not comprehend the myriad of emotions taking their toll on her spirits.
“Go away,” she cried softly. “Please, Gaston, just go away.”
“Not until you tell me why you are crying,” he said. “Was the perfume really that bad?”
She choked out a laugh among the sobs, but it was short-lived. He waited patiently while she cried, wanting earnestly to know why her heart was broken. In the back of his mind he suspected a reason, but he was reluctant to pursue it. He was fearful to know if she was crying because the merchant had called him her husband and she loathed the idea. But something inside him needed to know.
“Are you upset because he called me your husband?” he said softly, moving closer to her. “It was an innocent mistake. He sawus together, and Dane, and naturally assumed we were a family. Is it so terrible?”
“No,” she burst out, turning her face to him and stumbling back against the tree trunk. Her beautiful face was red with tears and intense feelings. “It’s not terrible at all. That is the problem, Gaston. I….”
