“Come on,” he hissed.
Trenton yanked back from him, but Dane grabbed him again. “Come on unless you want to get hit.”
Trenton saw his mother and father on their feet, and after a split second of indecision, allowed himself to be pulled along by the younger boy.
The boys were forgotten by the adults at the table. Gaston’s face was severe.
“Mari-Elle, I want you out of my sight,” he said in a low, controlled voice. “You were not invited into my dining hall and I do not wish to see you here.”
“I did not start this and refuse to be punished,” Mari-Elle snapped back, although her voice was not raised. “Your Lady Remington is quite insubordinate.”
“And you my lady, are insulting and arrogant,” Remington shot back. “How dare you tell my son he is not welcome at his own table.”
Mari-Elle opened her mouth but Gaston cut her off. “Out, Mari-Elle, or I will remove you myself. Lady Remington, you will retreat as well. I will hear no hollering to spoil my appetite.”
Mari-Elle spun on her heel, already moving to do his bidding, but Remington stared at him in shocked silence. He took his seat and refused to look at her.
“I meant it, Remi,” he said softly. “I will seek you later.”
Humiliated and stunned, she took several calming breaths before replying. “Do not bother, my lord.”
He drained half his goblet of wine, his eyes moving up to her as she turned away from him. He watched the straight back, the luscious hair, knowing she did not understand his reasons for punishing her, but he had to show who was in control. Additionally, it would not do at all to show favorites in front of everyone.
Mari-Elle was halfway across the room when she suddenly stopped and swayed. Clutching at her stomach, she let out a piercing cry and sank gracefully to the floor in a dead faint.
The entire company of knights were on their feet, looking curiously at the crumpled woman as Arik and Patrick went over to her. Gaston, knowing this to be more of his wife’smelodramatics, drained his cup before rising. Damn woman was a bloody pain in the ass!
Remington paused at the entrance to the kitchen, watching as Gaston crossed the floor to his wife. He stood a moment over her, his hands on his hips impatiently as he listened to Arik’s assessment. Then, reluctantly, he swooped down and took her in his arms.
The last glimpse Remington caught of Gaston was as he left the hall with Mari-Elle in his arms, her rich ruby dress flowing about him. Jealousy shot through her like a spear and she clenched her jaw painfully to keep the tears from coming. No one would see how hurt she was, especially Rory and Jasmine when they passed her an inquisitive glance. Without a word, she disappeared from the hall.
Mari-Elle had regained consciousness by the time he reached her rooms. Her physician, a thin man with sparse gray hair, was summoned and took special care with his examination while Gaston waited with little tolerance. It made him all the more peevish that his wife’s ladies were tittering in the corner, paying more attention to him than to their mistress.
“Well?” Gaston demanded.
The physician straightened, digging into his bag. “It is her stomach, my lord. Ever since her arrival, she has been most sensitive.”
In other words, the crushed apricot seeds had upset her system more than intended. Gaston sighed. “And?”
“And I believe I must tend your wife in private, my lord,” the man said. “There are certain things I must do to her and….”
Gaston put up a silencing hand, “I understand.”
The physician kicked the ladies out, too, and when the room was vacant, he lifted his eyebrows at Mari-Elle. “There is something you are not telling me. Have you been bleeding?”
Mari-Elle, looking pale, shook her head. “Nay, I have not. This child is making me exceedingly ill.”
The physician shook his head. “My lady, I have taken care of a good many pregnant women, and your womb does not feel as if there is life within.”
“And I have actually borne a child and know exactly what pregnancy feels like,” she snapped back. “Do not tell me that I am not with child, physician. I have all of the symptoms.”
He crossed his arms. “Do your breasts ache?”
“Aye.”
“And your menses have stopped?”
“Aye, nearly three months now,”
