“I do not know he did that for certain, but it was certainly a shrewd move,” Gaston raised his eyebrows in a resigned gesture. “Who would deny the church?”
Arik nodded in agreement. “Guy is an intelligent man, Gaston. I was mildly acquainted with him some time ago and know him to be cunning and sharp. I have no doubt that having the church bear his message was a planned move.”
“But why?” Gaston asked and Remington shifted at the sound of his raised voice. He put his huge hand on her head, covering her ear until she stilled. “Why would he do this now, one year after the defeat of Stoke? In all that time, he had no contact with her and suddenly he decides he cannot live without her? I do not understand his logic.”
“Mayhap that is not his logic,” Arik replied softly. “Mayhap he is angry because another man has his possessions and he simply wishes to regain a portion of what is his.”
“But why Remi?” Gaston gazed at the top of her dark head. “Why not send for…oh, hell, I do not know. Why not demand his plate or coinage, or his personal possessions to surround him?”
Arik looked at Remington, at Gaston. His blue eyes were grim. “Think, Gaston. He can pump Remington for information. Having been living in the same keep with Henry’s Dark One, she would be privy to privileged information, knowingly or not. Guy wants to find out what she knows.”
Gaston’s eyes darkened. “And being the intelligent, sly man he is, he is almost certainly linked with a network of Yorkist spies. In prison or not, he has most likely not been isolatedfrom his peers and comrades. He would be passing them any information for their resistance.”
“Exactly.”
Gaston held Arik’s gaze a moment longer before turning away, a weary sigh escaping his lips. “Once again, she is a pawn. I will not allow this, Arik. I will not allow this man to harm her any more than he already has, no matter what Henry says.”
“One would hope that Henry has already thought of the possible reasons behind Guy’s request, outside of unrequited love,” Arik said with muted sarcasm. “He must not believe her to be a threat, knowing that you would not have become personally involved with her or divulged any crown secrets.”
They both looked at each other as the enormity of the statement hung between them. “Have I changed overmuch since I met her, Arik? Am I not the same man you rode into Mt. Holyoak with those weeks ago?”
“You have changed, but it is a positive one,” Arik replied. “I thought you quite incapable of feelings until you met lovely Lady Remington.”
“I thought I was immune,” Gaston mumbled, burying the lower part of his face in the top of Remington’s hair. “I was wrong.”
Arik smiled faintly. Watching how tenderly Gaston was holding Remington made him reconsider life in general; he would not have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes.
“Do you remember once, years ago, when I asked you why you did not make friends?” he said quietly. “Do you remember your reaction? You knocked out two of my teeth.”
Gaston nodded vaguely, the light of the dim fire reflecting on his face. “Remington is not merely my friend, Arik. She is quickly becoming my life and that scares me.”
“Why did you hit me those years back?” Arik pressed quietly. “What was so terrible in that question?”
Gaston shifted a bit, mulling over the question. “My father was a mighty warrior, a younger son of the Duke of Exeter. He married my mother when she was thirteen. I was their only child, born a scant year later, and I remember my mother and father well. Mother was more like a sister to me and she always called me her very best friend. My father was also my best friend, taking me everywhere with him.” His look grew distant. “I was sent away to foster when I was seven and I missed them more than I could stand. When I had been away six months, I received word that my mother had died as a result of a bad pregnancy. My father followed her in death three months later, succumbing in a battle. I swore then and there that I would never have another friend, Arik. I did not even like to hear the word because it reminded me of my parents. Emotions like friendship hurt too much.”
Arik was somber, his expression gentle. “But youdohave friends,” he said quietly. “Matthew Wellesbourne is your closest friend.”
Gaston shrugged. “He is an exception. We are alike, Matt and I. He understands me.”
Arik thought on Matthew Wellesbourne, the White Lord, as he was known throughout England. He was a good man, a decent man, having saved Gaston’s life at Bosworth. Matthew had lost a hand but Gaston had retained his head. It was the essence of friendship, something few men ever experienced. Gaston’s fear of emotional attachment did not seem to include Wellesbourne.
“I remember when you lost your parents, although I did not know you well,” Arik murmured.
“I remember a little boy crying all night long into his straw pillow and suddenly emerging the next day looking like the devil’s apprentice. I have never seen such… hardness on one so young.”
Gaston stared into the fire a moment before turning his attention to Remington. “I thought I was holding to my vow quite well until I met Lady Stoneley. Now it is as if all of the emotions I spent my life fighting off are suddenly manifesting themselves. I could not deny my feelings for her if I wanted to.”
“Aye, you could, but you do not want to,” Arik teased lightly. “And I do not blame you. I am very pleased, Gaston, to see that you are allowing yourself to love.”
He did not know what to say; he was already embarrassed with his emotional blubbering. “Which is why I cannot let her go.”
Arik’s smile faded. “You have to face the very real possibility that the church will not grant her an annulment, Gaston. What will you do then?”
He drew in a long breath through his nose as if contemplating the realism of it. “I will kill Stoneley and marry her anyway.”
“I asked you not to,” Remington whispered, raising her head. She turned slightly to look at Arik. “Greetings this eve, Arik.”
“Greetings, my lady,” Arik responded, clearing his throat and standing from the table.
