He glanced impassively at the dead man. “His fate was sealed the moment he touched you. But I will send a few of my soldiers back to retrieve his body and return it home, if you wish.”
They reached Taran and the horse nickered softly at Remington. She put her hands on the silk muzzle and Gaston fussed with his saddle. “His father will be devastated,” she said regretfully. “Derek was his only son.”
“It is not as if the man will be my only enemy in Yorkshire,” Gaston replied lightly, reaching out to take her around the waist. “By God, if you aren’t a tiny thing. My fingers overlap one another when I encircle your waist.”
“I am not small, you are just large,” she said as he lifted her onto the saddle. “Massive. Monstrous. Huge.”
He gave her a wry smile. “Very well, I get the point. And you do not have to be nasty about it.”
“Nasty? Me?” she said innocently as he mounted behind her. “Perish the thought.”
He grinned, slapping his helm on but not locking it closed. “You are not like your sisters or your wicked cousin who puts nails in chairs, are you? And who was it that referred to your sisters as man-eating?”
Remington’s smile faded. “Derek. He always called them that.”
Gaston gathered Taran’s reins. “Are they really? Should I warn my cousins?”
She felt her humor return with his question and giggled softly, her only answer.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mari-Elle was waitingfor him on the steps to the castle as the army entered the outer bailey. He could see her through the inner gate and he let out a silent curse. Patrick suddenly appeared.
“I tried to discourage her, Gaston, but she would not listen to me,” he said. “In fact, she is most enraged that you personally rode out to rescue Lady Remington and her sisters.”
Gaston handed Remington down to Patrick and dismounted, keeping his eyes averted from his wife. “Damn,” he muttered. “Well, I suppose I’d better get this over with.”
“Wait, Gaston,” Remington said softly. “Are you planning to throw her out? Mayhap that is not so wise.”
He raised an eyebrow at her; they were a couple of feet apart, an entirely proper distance, but he felt her heat like a roaring fire. The entire way home his loins had been painfully engorged for want of her. But with Mari-Elle watching, he was thankful for the span between him and Remington.
“Explain,” he ordered softly, loosening his gauntlets.
Remington glanced discreetly, making sure no one was within ear’s length. “You said you wanted her to be cooperative…I do not believe she will be so cooperative if you throw her out, household and all, and tell her she is unwelcome. Were you to show her a bit of tolerance before you ask for her agreement on a most serious matter, her mood might be more receptive.”
He let out a long sigh, showing his great reluctance at her suggestion. “Remi…” he scratched underneath his hauberk. “You simply do not know what you are asking, angel. There is too much between Mari-Elle and I for me totolerateher. She would be suspicious.”
“I think she is suspicious already,” Remington looked to the tall woman without turning her head. “Mayhap you had better introduce us and we shall continue this conversation later.”
He looked over his shoulder and saw that Mari-Elle was crossing the inner bailey toward them. He straightened as she drew close, feeling the familiar hatred filling his veins.
Mari-Elle was looking quite closely at Remington and Gaston stepped forward, almost between them.
“I am pleased to see you safely returned, my lord,” Mari-Elle said, her gaze intense on Remington. “So I see I was correct with my first observation of this young lady; she was not a serving wench after all. Lady Remington, I presume?”
Remington curtsied quite respectfully. “Lady de Russe, ’tis an honor. You will please forgive me for my deception last night, but I usually serve meals to the men of Mt. Holyoak and I had no idea how you would react to such knowledge. It gives me a better opportunity to see to their satisfaction, if you will, by serving the meal myself. I thought it would be easier if I dressed inconspicuously in servant’s garb so that you would not feel uncomfortable.”
Well said, Mari-Elle thought, although she did not believe her for a moment. “I see,” she said coolly. “And what about the song?”
Remington hoped her cheeks did not flush bright red. “I apologize if you were offended, but when you live with men whose sense of humor can be bawdy at best, unfortunately you respond in kind. We are unused to fine ladies in our midst at Mt. Holyoak.”
Gaston was immensely pleased at her explanations and manners towards his wife, and it only served to deepen his feelings for her. He struggled to keep the prideful look from his face.
Mari-Elle still did not believe her, although the excuses were entirely plausible and respectful. She raised an eyebrow at her imperiously. “You had better become quite used to me, Lady Remington. I am the lady of the keep now and there are certain rules of decorum we adhere to,” she turned to her husband. “Might I have a word with you, my lord husband?”
Remington was sure she had used the word ‘husband’ simply to prick her. Yet her motive seemed not to be pushed by jealousy; jealousy was an extremely readable emotion and Remington could sense none. But she did sense possessiveness.
Gaston looked at his wife with veiled contempt. “Lady Remington is still chatelaine, madam, until I say otherwise,” he jabbed his wife back in Remington’s defense. “And I will join you in the solar in a few moments, after I have seen to the settling of my men.”
