She cried softly from pain and fatigue as Arik quickly examined the wound and then proceeded to bind the shoulder tightly. Jasmine, Rory and Skye stood in a terrified huddle at the base of the bed while Eudora assisted Arik with the bandages.
When she was expertly tended, Gaston pulled her carefully over to her left side to relieve any pressure on her right shoulder. Shaking and sobbing, she gripped his hand with a death-grip and refused to let go.
“Arik, find Rastus and send him up here with something for her pain,” Gaston ordered softly. “And I want him to check the wound when the bleeding has stopped.”
Arik nodded, wiping his hands with a rag Eudora had handed him. “It looks fairly deep, but clean,” he commented. “Barring any great unforeseen damage, it should heal completely.”
Gaston nodded, gazing down at her huddled body. “Nevertheless, I would have my surgeon take a look,” he motioned Arik closer so that he would not have to raise his voice. “I want you to find Mari-Elle and confine her to the vault. I will deal with her alone.”
Arik looked at his lord, knowing he fully intended to murder his wife and thinking it was high time the woman got what was coming to her. “Aye, my lord.”
Gaston nodded faintly, turning to look at the women gathered just into the shadows. “I shall remain with her. You may return to your rooms.”
“But this… this is my room,” Jasmine hiccupped, her face pale.
“Then take Remington’s bed,” Gaston told her. “And check on Dane to make sure he is well.”
Obediently, the sisters filed out behind Arik, but Eudora lagged behind a moment.
“You look exhausted, my lord,” she said to Gaston. “Might I bring you a warm drink?”
He glanced at the old woman a moment, nearly dismissing her, but suddenly the thought of warm wine appealed to him. “Thank you, madam. That would be appreciated.”
Eudora smiled a motherly smile. “I shall be right back, lamb…I mean, my lord.”
Embarrassed at her slip, for she was very used to addressing her charges affectionately, she quickly left the room and closed the door softly behind her. Gaston smiled faintly as the footfalls faded, lingering on the pet name. He had been called a lot of things before, but never a lamb.
“Lamb?” Remington murmured.
He looked down at her. “That’s enough from you,” he said with feigned severity, crouching down beside the bed. “Are you going to let go of my hand long enough to allow me to remove my sword and mail?”
She shook her head every so faintly, her eyes still closed. He gazed at her bloody hair, stained neck, thinking he had never been more relieved over anything in his life. The panic, the fear he had felt during those bleak moments when he thought shemight have been killed were the very worst moments of his life and he was grateful to whatever God watching over them that she was alive.
Had the knife found its mark a couple of inches lower, or mayhap a bit more to the center of her chest, he would have lost her for sure. His stomach twisted painfully at the thought and he wearily chased the horrifying ideals away. He could not lose her, not when she was becoming his all for living.
Mari-Elle would pay dearly for her transgression. He already hated her so much he was beyond hating her any more.
Eudora returned a half hour later to find him sitting on the floor next to the bed, Remington clutching his right hand to her breast. She entered silently with a tray, gazing down upon Remington’s sleeping head.
“Can you remove your hand to eat?” she whispered to Gaston as she set the tray down.
He was desperately tired. He let out a long sigh as he glanced at Remington’s sleeping face. “I tried once and she started to cry.” Carefully, slowly, he dislodged his hand and was glad when she continued to sleep. Rising stiffly, he looked over at the food and drink on the tray. “Thank you, Eudora. I am rather famished now that I think on it.”
The old woman flushed at the use of her name by the mighty and powerful Dark Knight. “My pleasure, my lord. Would you like me to return later to sit with her so that you can get some sleep?”
Gaston took a sip of the hot, spicy wine. “Nay, madam, I will remain with her. Dane will need you, as will her sisters. I can take care of Lady Remington.”
Eudora nodded and moved for the door. Suddenly, she paused, her gaze falling on Remington once more. “Lord Stoneley… he did not care for her as a husband should,” shelooked embarrassed to be voicing her thoughts. “I am glad that you are kind to her, my lord. She’s had so little kindness.”
He looked at the old woman a moment before gazing to Remington. He took another satisfying sip of his warmed wine. “Your concern is appreciated.”
Eudora lowered her gaze and slipped from the room. Gaston stood there and drank his wine, watching Remington sleep with an overwhelming sense of possessiveness. Never again would she be unprotected, out of his sight or no. He wondered what had transpired, how Mari-Elle had found her and how the fight began. All questions she would answer later, for he intended to ask only one question of Mari-Elle before he cut her heart out.
What in the world possessed you, madam?
He was half-finished with his meat pie when there was a knock on the door. Annoyed at being disturbed, he answered it with a less than pleasant expression.
Jasmine stood hesitantly in the corridor and he raised his eyebrows expectantly at her.
