The evening mealhad been ordered by Oleg and prepared by Remington’s regular cook. Mari-Elle’s servants had been cleared out of the house and were confined to the second floor wing with their mistress. Mari-Elle was distraught and outraged thather husband’s soldiers were treating her as if she were in prison, but there was naught she could do at the moment. That would come later, tonight. She may have been struck down, but she was certainly not out.
The smells of seasoned mutton filled the air of the grand hall and Remington resumed her customary place making sure Gaston and his knights were served and kept happy. Even Dane and Trenton were eating at the head of the table with Gaston, seated across the table from one another, but at least there had been no more fighting. Remington tried to pay special attention to both boys, hoping to ease the hostilities.
She brushed past Gaston on her way to topping Trenton’s goblet with a berry-punch concoction. He reached out and grabbed her arm gently, pulling her against his chair. Their eyes met and bolts of lightning flew between them, sharp and thrilling.
“You are paying more attention to these young men than to the master of the keep,” he said softly. “I am quite outraged.”
She smiled sweetly. “I shall make it up to you tonight, my lord. I promise.”
He released her arm slowly. “I will hold you to that promise,” his eyes suddenly moved beyond her to the doorway and she saw his face tighten. “Damn.”
She turned to see Lady Mari-Elle de Russe strolling into the dining hall, her thin face eyeing Gaston and Remington quite hostilely. Remington took a step away from Gaston and curtsied as Mari-Elle marched up.
“My lady,” she said. “We did not know to expect you for dinner.”
“Yet I am here,” she said coolly. “You may seat me. By my husband, preferably. Who is this little urchin?”
Dane looked up at the mean-looking lady, his eyes wide. He was sitting on Gaston’s right hand and did not want to relinquish his seat.
Remington’s hackles instantly went up but she forced herself to calm. “This is my son, Master Dane Stoneley. He and your son were enjoying their meal together.”
Mari-Elle looked at Gaston. “Since when do prisoners share the same table with the conqueror, my lord?”
“He was invited,” Gaston replied, his voice low. “You have not been. Return to your rooms and take your meal there.”
Trenton’s little face went pale; he could feel the tension and he hated it. It frightened him when his parents fought.
“I…I thought I might be able to enjoy my meal in the hall, since I have been confined to my rooms all day,” she put her hand protectively on Trenton. “And I have not seen my son at all.”
Gaston glanced at Trenton and saw the worry on his face. Not wanting to upset his son further, he waved at Mari-Elle. “Very well, then, be seated next to your son.”
Arik moved down to allow Mari-Elle to sit. Remington moved away from the table and returned moments later with a trencher of mutton, gravy and bread. She sat it heavily in front of Mari-Elle, testimony to her irritation.
Mari-Elle eyed the food. “What is this meat, madam?”
“Mutton,” Remington answered shortly. The woman had piqued her temper calling her son an urchin.
Mari-Elle turned her nose up. “Mutton. Have you no beef or fowl?”
Remington’s pretty jaw clenched and Gaston watched her reaction. “Nay, my lady, only mutton. If you want beef, then you will have to kill the cow yourself.”
Mari-Elle’s eyes narrowed at her. “Do not get flippant with me, mistress.”
Remington lifted an eyebrow, remarkably cool, but there was no mistaking the challenging air of her stance. “I was not attempting to be rude, my lady, merely stating a fact. If you will only taste the meat, I am sure you will find it most delicious.”
Mari-Elle glared at her a moment before lowering her eyes to her plate. Gingerly, she took a taste and pushed it away. “Awgh. I cannot stomach mutton,” she declared. “You will serve me something else, mistress, and no more of your backtalk.”
“But it’s good,” Dane insisted, across the table. “Do not you like it?”
Mari-Elle looked imperiously at the boy. “You were not invited to speak and I would demand you to hurry and be gone.”
Remington couldn’t stop herself. She walked around to Dane and put her hands protectively on her son. “He is more welcome at this table than you are, my lady. Or had not you noticed?”
Gaston looked sharply at her, but Mari-Elle was faster to the draw. The Mari-Elle of old suddenly burst forth in all of her sinister glory and the trencher of mutton and gravy went flying, missing Remington and Dane by mere inches. Gone was the woman trying to impress her husband.
“How dare you speak to me like that,” she snapped savagely.
Dane scrambled off the bench; he did not want to be between his mother and the angry lady. Across the table, Trenton lowered his head and started to cry softly. As Gaston rose to his feet, Dane did the only thing he could think of; he ran around the table and grabbed Trenton by the arm.
