He paused, the goblet mid-way to his lips. After an eternal pause, she heard him sigh and then the sound of the cup as it met with the table.
“Can we dispense with the animosity tonight?” he finally said. “I am in great need of your comfort.”
She felt her anger abate with his words; they were soft, almost pleading. She had never heard him beg before. Slowly, she rolled onto her back and looked at him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He shrugged irritably. “Everything. But the last thing I want to be wrong is you and I. Get up and come to my chamber.”
She sat up and raised an eyebrow at the door. “Heaven only knows there will be no privacy here. Did you truly have to break it down? A little more pleading and I would have opened it.”
“I did plead but you ignored me,” he held out his hand and pulled her from the bed. “I shall have it repaired tomorrow.”
She picked her way over the broken frame, a remembrance drifting over her as she viewed the carnage. It was horribly disturbing and she felt her stomach twist as she recalled the event, but somehow with Gaston beside her, she was able to face it quite rationally. His strength had become hers.
“I tried to lock Guy out one time,” she said softly. “He took an axe and chopped the door down. Then he took the butt and beat me with it. My eyes were swollen shut for three days.”
His grip tightened on her arm as he led her into the corridor. The dim hall was cool as he took her down to the master chamber, a vast, room furnished with heavy, dark furniture. She took a second glance at it as he closed the door behind them, seeing that he had brought his own items with him and had nearly redecorated the entire room. Heavy furs lay in front ofthe hearth and on both sides of the bed, filling the already-musty room with a more animalistic scent. There were weapons strewn about, boots, clothing, and it suddenly occurred to her that the room looked like him. She could see him, and smell him, everywhere.
“It looks a bit different since you were last here,” he commented, removing the mail tunic he wore and casting it over a chair.
“I like it,” she said, sinking down on the end of the bed. “It feels like you.”
He sat down to remove his boots. “I should hope so, considering it is my room.”
She smiled faintly at him. “I just meant that the room no longer reminds me of Guy,” she said softly. “The more time passes, the more you become a part of our lives and it is easier to forget about my husband.”
He looked at her a moment. “Do not use that term to describe him anymore. When next I hear it, you will be referring to me. Only I am worthy of that title, madam, when it pertains to you.”
He wasn’t angry, merely stating a fact. She nodded once, slowly. “Of course, Gaston.”
He stood up and removed his shirt, leaving him clad in only snug leather breeches. Remington felt her chest tightening and her limbs go warm at the sight of his magnificent chest, surely the most beautiful piece of flesh in the entire world. Antonius, as sculpted as he was, couldn’t come close. Gaston was built like a god.
He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with satisfaction as he moved to the huge hearth and stoked it to a roaring blaze. She could only sit there and watch him; the most glorious male God had ever created. She still found it hard to believe he was hers. Sometimes she wondered if she would awaken from this dream only to find Guy looming over her,demanding service. If it were a dream, she would stay asleep forever.
When the fire was blazing, he held out a hand to her. “Come over here, angel. The room is cold.”
She had not noticed; she had been so involved in watching him and he always made her blood boil. Obediently, she went to him and sat on the huge rug next to him. He took her in his arms and leaned back against the huge leather-covered chair behind him.
Content as a fat baby, she snuggled against him and gazed dreamily into the flames, feeling the thick fur against her legs.
“What kind of fur is this?” she asked.
“Bear,” he replied. “Killed the animal myself when I was seventeen. It damn near ate me for supper.”
She ran her fingers over the soft rug. “I have a sheepskin coverlet for winter.”
“Tell me,” he said thoughtfully. “Have the sheep already been shorn?”
“Aye, they were shorn in April of their winter coats,” she said. “They will be shorn again come September. And then we will have to deal with the merchants from London as they barter for the wool.”
“Yorkshire wool is the finest,” he said. “Honestly, I have been focusing so much on the arrival of my new troops that I have scarce had time to learn in detail the workings of Mt. Holyoak.
“But I suppose I will have to leave that to you, my lady. Unless, of course, you would rather switch duties with me.”
She giggled softly, “Can you see me in front of five hundred men, trying to teach them to hold a sword? The sword is as big as I am.”
He smiled, stroking her arms as he held her. The fire spit and crackled, the comfortable smell of smoke lingering in the air.
