“But I doubt that even I could wrestle a wild bull and kill it,” Gaston stepped into the room casually, his face riveted to Remington. He smiled at the boys. “More glory tales, I see.”
“Father.” Trenton shot up, standing on the bed. “You have returned.”
“Did you kill a lot of knights?” Dane sat up with dizzying speed and bound to the floor. “How many did you kill? Did you cut their heads off?”
Gaston gave Dane a horrified look and patted him on the head affectionately. “By God’s Bloody Rood, Dane, ’tis much more merciful to kill a man in a quicker fashion. Besides, I went to keep the peace, not put men to their graves.”
“What happened, then?” Trenton jumped in. “Was it a fierce fight?”
“Fierce enough, lad,” Gaston found Remington’s eyes again. “But I am returned, whole and sound.”
The boys practically plowed him over in their eagerness to hear of his battle but he waved them off politely. He was desperate to be alone with Remington. “Why do not you go intothe bailey and watch Arik disassemble the troops. Afterward, ask him to tell you of the battle. He is a much better storyteller than I.”
Yelling in agreement, they tore off, each trying to be the first through the door and squabbling when they were unable to fit through the jamb side-by-side. Gaston shook his head with mirth, pulling off his gauntlets.
“Gentlemen!” he roared lightly. “Control your eagerness, if you would. Do not run down the stairs lest you fall and break your necks, and remain on the inner wall until the troops are disbanded. Am I clear?”
They responded affirmatively, still shoving and shouting as they walked very quickly down the hall. Gaston, snickering, turned to Remington.
“What in the world am I going to do when they get large enough to take me on?” he wondered aloud. “Will every day be a battle?”
Her smiled faded, the fact that they were finally alone settling heavily on her. “They worship you, my lord. As do I.”
The gauntlets hit the bed and he was beside her, his great hands on her face, pulling her to his lips for a kiss. Their lips, soft and warm and eager, pulled and suckled on one another until demanding tongues insisted on being sated. Mingling and mixing, they tasted one another until Gaston had to stop or he would explode. His heavy member was already painfully engorged.
“God, Remi,” he whispered against her cheek. “I missed you so. Roald told me what happened.”
She looked at him fearfully. “I have not been downstairs yet. He brought a missive from Guy.”
“I know, angel,” he patted her cheek. “And I intend to find out what the messages say, but I had to see you first.”
She forced a tremulous smile and kissed him again. He responded, with far more sweetness and less force. “I missed you terribly, too. We had to bury Mari-Elle this morning.”
“I suspected as much. How is Trenton handling it?”
She shrugged. “He spent the day with Charles and Dane up in Charles’ tower room, blowing up things. He is actually doing remarkably well, considering.”
He fingered a strand of silken hair. “Roald said you were holed up in my room and refused to come out, yet I find you here with the boys as your audience.”
She lay back, pulling him down beside her. With all of the armor, it was tremendously awkward, but neither one of them cared. “I was planning on staying in your bower until you returned, but Dane and Trenton found me about an hour ago and demanded I tell them more stories. I could not disappoint them.”
He stroked her face. “My sweet angel, always thinking of others before yourself.”
He kissed her cheek, his mouth drifting lazily over her shoulders and the swell of her breast exposed by her surcoat. Remington soaked up every moment, feeling his strength boost her own. She needed him as badly as her body needed blood to survive.
“I should tend to the envoy,” he said after a few moments, his voice husky. “I will send for you when I have read the contents of the missives.”
“You do not want me to come with you now?”
He pushed himself up heavily, nearly four hundred pounds of flesh and steel. “Nay, not now. I would see this papal liaison alone and determine his intent before I summon you. I do not want this man upsetting you and fully intend to tell him so. Roald says he’s a pushy bastard.”
She sat up, watching him replace his gloves. “What do you suppose the missives say?”
He shook his head. “Honestly, I do not know. Mayhap it is not as bad as we both think; mayhap Henry and Guy are merely sending their respective greetings.” He did not believe that for a moment, but he said it to ease her mind somewhat. She was terribly frightened and he did not blame her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Gaston was right.It was bad. The envoy, a fat little man with a nasty attitude irritated him from the word go, and he delivered the king’s message with great flourish. Gaston knew he had gone pale after he read it.
