They all stopped somewhat, gazing down on her. She looked at Patrick, a gentle expression on her lovely features. “Let him hold her one last time. He never got to say good-bye.”
Gaston’s gaze lingered on her a brief moment before he released his cousin. Nicolas and Antonius let go, allowing Patrick to dislodge the lid of the casket. Gaston gazed atRory’s still body a moment, dressed in the emerald green dress Remington had worn the first time he ever saw her.
Rory looked sweet and peaceful and he slid down from the wagon bed and took Remington into his arms. To hell with appearance, if his men were foolish enough not to realize he was in love with her, they would know it now.
Nicolas was fighting off tears as Patrick lifted Rory from the casket and spoke to her as if she could answer him. Remington sobbed softly, turning away at the sight of her sister cradled in the knight’s arms. She did not realize that the entire outer bailey had come to a halt, everyone watching as Patrick said his good-byes to Rory. Deep, tangible sadness filled the air.
Even Gaston was struggling with his feelings; he couldn’t watch. He held Remington as she fought to regain control of her emotions, stroking her head and feeling his own anguish like a knife. Now and again he would glance at Arik’s coffin, feeling the loss as deeply as if the man were a brother.
*
The funeral wasbrief. As soon as Father de Tormo finished the benediction, Gaston ordered the caskets buried and a full retreat into Mt. Holyoak. He vowed this would be the last funeral Remington would attend for some time to come; she looked so pale and fragile that it frightened him.
Once inside the keep with the bridge raised and the portcullis down, he felt a bit better. After settling Remington, he established himself in the solar to interrogate Nicolas about the attack.
“Did you see who it was?” he asked his cousin.
Nicolas had not changed his clothing or taken off his armor since the attack had happened the day before. He had not slept, either, and he was ashen with fatigue.
“It was Botmore, I am sure,” he said quietly. “I recognized the colors; they were the same colors that Botmore’s son was wearing when Arik killed him.”
Gaston, too, was gray with exhaustion. He raked his fingers through his hair. “Brimley’s siege was intense when we arrived, although none of my spies could pick out Lord Botmore. I had a feeling he was planning something for Mt. Holyoak, though I knew not what. The man’s troops were there but, apparently, he was not to be found.”
Nicolas nodded, draining the last of his ale. He had been living on ale since yesterday. “They struck quickly and then retreated,” his eyes reluctantly found Gaston. “They were aiming for me, you know. Rory just happened to be in the way. She stood between me and the forest where they were hiding.”
Gaston suspected as much; they were aiming for the knights, not the women. He closed his eyes and turned away, focusing on the thin window carved into the wall.
“Do we retaliate?”
The question hung there while Gaston remained riveted to the small window, seeing beyond the walls as his mind wandered. “As much as I would like to, I cannot. I have far more pressing business to attend to in London. Botmore will have to wait.”
“But what if he keeps up these ambushes? Why not wipe the man out now? It should not take more than a week.” Nicolas wanted revenge, for his brother and for Arik.
Gaston shook his head wearily. “Were Arik alive, I would send him to lay siege and go to London confident that Botmore would be no more. Patrick is next in the chain of command and he is not himself these days; I would not trust him with this assignment because it is too close to his heart,” he stood up, having his answers and eager to get some sleep. “Botmore willhave to wait, Nicolas. But have no doubt that Arik and Rory will be avenged.”
Nicolas continued to sit, exhausted to the bone and frazzled of nerve. “Bastard,” he muttered. “Was Brimley’s siege a ruse, then?”
“Probably,” Gaston nodded. “But one good thing came out of this; Brimley has pledged his loyalty to Henry.”
Nicolas raised his eyebrows wearily. The cost of loyalty was too high, in his opinion. Gaston unlatched the solar door.
“Get some sleep, Nicolas, as I intend to do,” he said. “We shall discuss this further when we have had time to recover.”
Nicolas looked up at Gaston, realizing for the first time how badly his cousin must be feeling the loss of Arik. Until this point, Nicolas had only been concerned with Patrick and Rory. Looking at Gaston, he could see the dull pain.
“I am sorry about Arik,” he said quietly. “He felt no pain…death was almost instantaneous.”
Gaston abruptly lowered his gaze. “He was a fine knight and I shall sorely miss him.”
It was as close as Nicolas as ever heard Gaston come to an emotional display.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Two days afterthe burial of Rory and Arik, Gaston ordered the wagons readied for the trip to London. The priest had been cooperative regarding the delay, showing a small amount of consideration for Remington’s loss. Her two extra days were spent with Jasmine and Skye, and Gaston made himself discreetly distant as the sisters came to grips with their grief.
But the fact remained that she was expected in London and they could delay no longer. While she spent her remaining hours with her sisters, Gaston made all necessary preparations including all of Remington’s packing. Eudora packed everything but the bed and he found himself filling an entire wagon with her belongings. He could have been more firm and demand she lighten the load, but he did not have the heart. With everything that had happened and everything that she was preparing to face, he would not cause her additional grief.
Gaston found that keeping exceptionally busy helped him deal with the loss of Arik. Every time he entered the bailey or strode into the dim depths of the knight’s quarters, he expected to be greeted by the familiar face and it cut him deeply that Arik was never to return. Patrick, fortunately, had come aroundquickly and had admirably stepped into the post vacated by the second in command. Keeping busy helped him, too.
