“Remi,” his voice was a whisper. “You tried, angel, but ’twas in vain. Your efforts were, however, magnificent. I had no idea you could rouse that level of anger within your sweet little body.”
“Bind me,” she said through clenched teeth.
His breathing began to quicken as he gazed upon her. “Do not do this to me. I love you, Remi. Everything will be all right, I swear it.”
As when a cork pops from a bottle of fermented wine due to unrelenting pressure, so did Remington’s nerves. All of the careful control she had exerted since Gaston had informed her of the envoy’s message suddenly exploded and all of the fear she had ever felt toward Guy came slamming into her like the hard crash of a waterfall. Fear consumed her, ate at her, and she threw herself up from the chair and propelled her body against the wall stacked with books.
Screaming and ranting like a woman gone mad, she ripped the books from their shelves and threw them every which way. Gaston ducked as books came sailing at him, his split second of indecision to let her go ended. He had to stop her before she hurt herself.
He grabbed her tightly, but she fought against him with more strength than he thought possible for a woman. It was anger, hatred, and total terror expressing themselves and within the confines of his massive arms, he let her rant. She pounded him, slapped him.
“It will not work! The church will not listen to you and it will not work!” she screamed. “They will force me to be with Guy and I will not allow it. I shall kill myself; do you hear me? I shall kill myself!”
“I shall kill Guy first!” he shot back, receiving a sharp blow to his cheekbone as she flailed wildly. “Remington!” Receiving no coherent response, he shook her hard. “Remi!”
He shook her so hard that her neck snapped and she gasped from the shock. Her wildly constricted pupils suddenly dilated with recognition, as if suddenly realizing that for a brief moment she had been truly insane. He saw her start to quiver violently and the tears finally bubbled forth. He saw a terrifying panic in her eyes.
“Kill him, Gaston!” she hissed.
He did not hesitate. “I shall do it.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off the sobs. “No, no, do not. I did not mean it.”
“I did,” he was gripping her arms tightly, feeling her pain and terror seeping into his veins. He couldn’t stand seeing her so terrified; his natural instincts to protect her were running rampant. “No, Gaston,” she breathed heavily. “I do not want to you murder for me. Let him rot away in the Tower; let himbecome fodder for rats. I could never live with the guilt if you killed him for me.”
He felt her shaking violently in his grasp until he realized it was he who was shaking, too. Fiercely, he gathered her against his chest, breathing in the faint scent of the perfume he had purchased for her.
“It’s all right, angel,” he whispered against her hair. He had her gripped tightly in his arms, her feet dangling a good distance off the floor. “The church will listen to me, and we shall be married by this time next year. I vow it on my oath as Henry’s Dark One. Nothing will stand in my way, not God, nor king, nor your bastard husband.”
She was sobbing softly in his arms, frightened and tired. “I hate him!”
“I know,” he crooned. “So do I.”
They spent a good deal of the evening in the solar. Remington had a death-grip on his neck and refused to let go, and he ended up sitting on the desk and holding her across his lap like a child. But he was content to stay there the rest of his life, holding her, keeping her safe from those who would seek to harm her.
He found as of late that he was only content with her in his arms, as if she were the other half of him. Alone, he felt as if a great piece of him was missing.
The evening meal came and went and they continued to hold each other in the dim room, listening to the crackles of the banked fire. Remington had long since fallen into a deep sleep, a catch in her breathing every so often to remind him of the emotional upheaval she had suffered. He caressed her gently, staring into the fire and considering exactly what he would need to do upon his arrival to London.
He would take Remington with him and seek out Henry. After a private audience, wherein he fully intended to explaineverything to his king, he would settle her in a secured portion of the castle under the protection of his own elite guard, and then he would seek an audience with the papal legate, Bishop John of Imola. Unfamiliar as he was regarding the procedures of annulment, he would seek the bishop’s advice and proceed, with or without the man’s blessing.
Gaston did not know much about Pope Innocent IX, only that Henry had a love/hate relationship with the church, mostly hate. But Gaston knew one thing; with enough money and royal interference, he would have his annulment. Even if it meant liquidating everything he had of value as a donation to the church. He might very well lose Clearwell and Mt. Holyoak, but he would have Remington and that was all that mattered. The rest was insignificant.
He would beg if he had to.
And he would have Dane and Trenton, two of the finest sons a man could have. Even if Dane was not of his blood, he was of Remington’s and therefore, a part of him. Ever since he met the boy he had considered him his own flesh. It was never his intention to steal another man’s son; it merely became the way of things.
There was a soft knock on the solar door and Arik entered quietly, eyeing the both of them questioningly. He took a couple of halting steps into the room, his eyes on Remington.
“Is she all right?” he asked softly. “What happened?”
Gaston was weary, so damn weary he could barely speak. “Guy has requested that Remington join him in his captivity, and Henry has graciously granted his prisoner’s request.”
Arik’s eyes widened briefly. “My God, Gaston. What are you going to do?”
He shrugged slightly, Remington dead weight against his arms and chest. “Take her to London as I am ordered to and startannulment proceedings the moment I arrive. I shall make her a ward of the church until the matter is settled.”
Arik stroked his scratchy face thoughtfully, moving to sit on the desk beside his liege. He snorted softly after a moment. “Hell of a problem, I’d say. Guy was smart to send the church as an envoy.”
