She watched the gloves go on. She would have to believe in him, and she would have to believe that whatever fate brought them together would return him safely to her. There was nothing she could do or say to make him remain behind and she resigned herself to the fact.
He gathered his helm and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Thinking her to taste most delightful, he kissed her again and grinned broadly as his second kiss had brought a smile to her lips.
“That’s better, love,” he whispered.
“Gaston?” she called out softly as he moved for the door.
He paused, plopping his helm on. “What would you name our son?” she asked. She had to ask; what if he did not return and she had not asked him? She shivered involuntarily.
“I… I do not know,” he looked thoughtful. “I have not thought on it. What would you name him?”
She shrugged and he smiled, latching his helm. “Think on it, then. I will expect several prospects upon my return.”
She nodded, giving him a wan smile. He quit the room and she heard his footsteps fading down the hall until they vanished. Exhausted and distraught, she fell back on the bed and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.
*
On the secondday since Gaston’s departure, Remington was ready to climb the walls. Word had come back to Arik that Gaston and his army had engaged Botmore at Crayke and the baron was proving to be a handful. Worried and sickened, Remington tried to occupy herself with various projects, anything to keep from worrying.
Arik proved to be a delightful companion. When he wasn’t out training the troops, he was with her constantly and she enjoyed his quick wit and conversation. He would play games with her and let her win, she was sure, but he acted the complete gentleman always.
Father de Tormo kept to himself much of the time, spending his hours in the solar chronicling his visit to Mt. Holyoak and his subsequent discoveries. Remington was glad he was able to keep himself occupied, for she had her own problems to deal with. She did not want to even think of London until Gaston returned to her safely.
Nicolas and Rory had another go-around right after Gaston left. Rory sabotaged the taper beside his bed with a concoction of Charles’ doing so that when he lit the end, it exploded with a loud bang and sent wax sailing all over the room. Nicolas was furious and, frankly, frightened as hell and wandered the castle bellowing for Rory. He found her in Skye’s room.
Rory was wise as well as mischievous. She planted herself snuggly in her sister’s room so that the enraged knight could do nothing but smile sweetly at his love and glare at her sister in the same breath. Rory laughed at him silently when Skye’s back was turned and he mouthed violent threats.
The heat of August was sticky and again the ladies turned their attention to the relief of the lake, as they had on so many occasions. Taking Arik and Nicolas with them, they packed foodand retreated to the coolness and the shade that the little glen had to offer.
Rory, Skye and Jasmine plunged into the water, taking Mary with them. Nicolas stood at the edge of the water, watching them with a smile on his face. He hated water and refused to go in, even when Skye splashed him until he was soaking.
Arik and Remington watched from under the shade of the huge oak tree. The heat was draining on her and she simply wished to sit and rest, content to watch the others play for the moment. Arik chewed on a green apple.
“Your sisters are part fish,” he commented.
She smiled faintly. “Sometimes I wonder,” she gazed at his blond head, his angular Nordic face. “Will they return soon?”
Arik chewed thoughtfully. “Mayhap. If the skirmish was small, as it was at Templehurst.”
She did not feel comforted. “Gaston is a magnificent warrior, is he not? He is invincible.”
Arik turned to look at her over his shoulder; he could read her fear like a book. “He shall return, Remington. Have no doubt of it. He loves you far too much not to.”
She flushed slightly and lowered her gaze. “You have known him a long time, have not you?”
“Since we were seven,” Arik replied, still looking at her. “I have never known him to show soft emotion. No love, no tenderness, little kindness or compassion. I am constantly amazed at the depth of emotion I read in his eyes when he looks at you. You, madam, have done the one thing throngs of knights and soldiers have failed to do for thirteen years; you have brought the Dark One to his knees.”
Her head came up in mild alarm. “’Twas never my intention, Arik. I would never intentionally weaken him.”
“I did not mean to imply that you had. I simply meant that you have managed to achieve a far greater feat than any war ever has. You have tamed Edward’s Dark Knight.”
She looked at him. “I do not want to tame him. I only want to love him.”
He chuckled softly. “Do not be offended by my words, Remington. I meant them as a compliment.”
She wasn’t offended, but she was puzzled. She shook her head at him. “Stop talking like that. You embarrass me.”
He tossed the apple core and sat up. “Why is that? I merely seek to commend you. And tell you how glad I am that Gaston found you.”
