He lifted an arched black eyebrow, the same way he had lifted it the first time she had ever gazed into his eyes. This time, however, she reached up and touched his brow. “If you choose to wait in bed, then that will suit me. But know I mean what I say, Remi. I do not jest with you.”
She was gazing at him dreamily, a faint smile on her face. “Tell me, Gaston, when you first saw me did you know that we would be lovers?”
He signed in annoyance. She wasn’t listening to him. “Nay, I did not. I do not take lovers.”
“But you took me,” she traced her finger along his lower lip.
“Believe me when I tell you it was simply by chance,” he said. “I never planned it, at least not at first.”
She perked up. “Not at first? When, then? When did you know?”
He looked at her a moment. “After your sister put charcoal on Nicolas’ cup and you were terrified that she had booby-trapped the entire table. You practically tore the table apart looking for tricks with this wild look on your face,” his hand moved over her shoulder tenderly. “I knew then that I would have you.”
She smiled. “I thought you were going to crucify Rory. We were terrified of you; my sisters still are.”
“And you are not?” he asked with feigned outrage.
Her smile faded. “I fear Guy more than you. The man knows no mercy, no compassion, no gentleness. He strikes for no reason, without warning. He is an animal.”
Gaston’s face hardened. “And the animal fears me more than God. He shall never touch you nor see you again, Remi, I swear it. If I have to get down on my knees before Henry to plead for his unending imprisonment, I will. I shall kill him if he sets foot outside of the Tower.”
She believed him.
CHAPTER TEN
Gaston sought outArik to find out where exactly his wife had been housed. Arik personally led his liege to the northern wing, a seldom-used portion of Mt. Holyoak. All of Mari-Elle’s household had been roomed here and Gaston passed by several people he recognized from Clearwell. He ignored them here, as he ignored them there.
He had not even reached his wife’s room and he could hear her shrieking. His veins ran cold; this was the same woman he knew and despised. His resolve to get rid of her strengthened ten-fold as he quickened his pace down the hall. He would not listen to that irritating voice any longer than he had to.
The door to her chamber was open partially and he shoved it open the rest of the way as he barged in. Mari-Elle was in the process of reaming one of her servants, a poor girl getting her ears boxed, when she caught sight of her husband.
From what he had seen of her at the nooning meal, he half expected her to turn instantly sweet and subservient in a desperate ploy to throw him off his guard. But he was not surprised when she turned to him like a wild animal, her eyes bulging.
“At last!” she cried. “You have arrived, my lord.”
He raised his eyebrow and gave her an intolerant look. “You will not be so glad when you hear what I have to say. Dismiss your women.”
Mari-Elle let out a desperate gasp, dramatic to say the least. “My lord, they are trying tokillme,” she began to weep exaggeratedly. “You have an assassin within your midst.”
He scowled; he had no time for her ridiculous stalling tactics. “Dismiss your women, Mari-Elle.”
Suddenly she doubled over and grabbed her gut, moaning in pain. He watched her curiously as she disappeared into a small alcove and he could hear her snapping at a servant and grunting. He passed a glance at Arik, still behind him.
“This is going to take all day if she keeps this up,” he grumbled. “Be on your way, man. I can handle her myself.”
“Are you sure?” Arik quipped seriously.
Gaston twisted his mouth drolly and Arik snorted in response, exiting the chamber.
Mari-Elle was grunting and cursing like a barmaid and Gaston’s patience was nearly at an end, but he reined himself. Drawing in a deep breath for strength, he crossed his arms and planted his feet apart, waiting.
It took several minutes, but Mari-Elle re-emerged from the alcove looking the least bit pale. She swallowed hard, holding a handkerchief to her lips as she weaved across the room to the wine decanter.
“Someone is trying to kill me,” she gasped, pouring herself a dose of wine. “I have been poisoned.”
He frowned intolerantly. “What are you talking about?”
She took a deep drink before answering, distraught. “Someone has poisoned me. My stomach is in knots and…. and everything is coming out of me as quickly as it went in. I am slowly dying, I tell you.”
