She continued to cry and carry on, but that was the extent of it. Remington tried to comfort her, bending low so she would be heard over the moaning. “Jasmine, what’s the matter? Where do you hurt?”
Jasmine moaned and groaned and one eye opened, peering at her sister. “Nowhere,” she whispered, then moaned again. “I am stalling for time.”
Remington almost collapsed with relief atop her sister, but refrained from showing her alleviation. Quickly, her mind set in motion to add to Jasmine’s stalling tactic. They must give Gaston time to catch up to them.
“See what you have done!” she whirled to Derek furiously. “You have aggravated her stomach ailment. If we travel anymore she will become violently ill.”
Derek hissed a curse and slapped at his thigh; this was not going at all well. He marched up on the women, gazing critically on Jasmine.
“Well, what’s wrong with her?” he demanded.
“I just told you, it’s her stomach,” Remington snapped. “We must rest here.”
They couldn’t afford to stay there any longer. Already he was granting the pursuing Dark Knight ample time to catch up to them. He began to wonder about the wisdom of this caper; neverhad he met such stubborn victims. But he had no desire to kill one of his rescues, if in fact she was ill as her sister made her out to be.
In pure agitation, he tossed his helm to the ground and ordered his men to take a rest.
*
Small dots representingRory, Dane and Charles were racing up the hill toward Mt. Holyoak under the hot afternoon sun. The sentries on the wall saw them and set forth the warning cry. There would be no reason to run in the sun unless something terrible had happened; the fact that there were only three of them returning being reason enough to worry, and the sergeant made the decision to give the alerted call.
Gaston, in the sublevels with Arik, heard the cry and knew in his gut that Remington was in danger. Some sixth sense told him something had happened and he fought off his panic as he made his way to the fortified drawbridge.
Rory, Dane and Charles were pounding across the bridge about the time Gaston arrived. Rory, exhausted, tripped and plowed into Arik. Dane went straight for Gaston, sobbing as the huge man picked him up gently.
“Rory, what the hell is going on? Where are Remi and the rest of them?” he demanded harshly.
Rory was gasping for air, trying to answer. Charles, on his knees, raised his flushed face. “Knights, Sir Gaston. Lots of them.”
A bolt of terror shot through him. “Were they wearing colors? Did you recognize them?”
Rory and Charles shook their head. “The armor was very fine, hardly damaged,” Charles breathed. “And one of the destriers was red. Very red.”
Charles described no one Gaston knew. Dane was clinging to him, his little arms wrapped around his neck and his legs wound around his narrow waist, sobbing. Gaston clutched Remington’s son, patting his back as he talked.
“The knight at the faire had a horse like that,” Dane whispered against Gaston’s neck.
It took Gaston a second to comprehend the boy’s words. Then, he pulled back to look the lad in the face. “What knight, Dane?”
Dane sniffled, wiping his eyes. “The knight that talked to my mother. You called him a whip.”
Gaston looked at him a moment, trying to figure out what in the hell he was talking about. Then, suddenly, it dawned on him. “Sir Derek? The knight I called a whelp?”
Dane nodded fearfully. “It looked like him because they had the same horse.”
Gaston slanted a glance at Arik, who understood the silent command. He fled. Charles and Rory clung to each other, finally catching their breath but still very, very frightened.
“Rory, do you know Sir Derek?” Gaston asked. “Did you recognize him?”
“I wasn’t looking, to be truthful,” she said weakly. “Remington said to run, and I did.”
Remington. The sound of her name brought the reality of the crisis slamming into him like a ton of bricks and he felt a sense of urgency shoot through him such as he had never known. He sat Dane gently to the ground.
“Charles, I have an important task for you,” he said sternly. The young man instantly straightened. “Aye, my lord?”
“You will take Lady Rory and young Dane and escort them to their rooms. I will depend on you to make sure they do not stray,” he said. “I will trust their safety to you while I retrieve Lady Remington and her sisters. Will you do this?”
“Aye, my lord,” Charles nodded, his eyes suddenly turning wistful. “I may not ride with you?”
