“Do not look so upset, Nicolas,” she said with a smile. “Where is Gaston?”
“Busy at the moment,” Nicolas replied. “He asked that I see to your meal.”
She sighed, happy to be out of the carriage and light of heart. She took his armored elbow. “I would like to walk a bit, if I may. I shall eat standing up.”
He fed her cheese and dried beef, and a grand hunk of bread with cinnamon and raisins baked into it. He ate sparingly, alternately looking over his shoulder for Gaston and watchingthe lady. Remington watched his face; he seemed so young, although he was only a year younger than she.
“Do you miss Skye?” she asked. “I know she shall miss you terribly.”
He cleared his throat uncomfortably and a faint pink appeared around his ears. “I….aye, I shall miss her.”
Remington smiled. “She thinks a great deal of you, you know. In fact, she’s quite smitten.”
Nicolas looked as if he were going to die from embarrassment. He had no idea how to respond and Remington was enjoying his discomfort. She wondered if her sister had told the knight he was going to be a father. In her opinion, the man had a right to know.
“And what, may I ask, are your intentions toward my sister?” she asked pleasantly.
His eyes widened and he looked at her. “Intentions? I…I do not know what you mean, my lady.”
“What are your plans?” she clarified as if he were a simpleton. “When do you intend to wed her?”
Nicolas went from bright pink to sickly white. “Wed….wed her? We have not talked of marriage, my lady.”
Remington’s frivolity was fading. “Why not? Surely she has told you of her condition?”
Nicolas went from a quivering, embarrassed human to a suspicious, cold man. “What condition?”
Remington saw at that moment that Skye, nor Gaston for that matter, had bothered to inform the knight of the pregnancy. She was suddenly angry at their lack of consideration. “She’s pregnant,” she said flatly. “Did you not know that?”
Nicolas reeled; he stepped back from Remington as if he had just discovered she carried the plague. His eyes bugged and his face was void of all color as he stared back at her. Instead of thepleasure she expected, a spark of rage ignited behind his dark eyes.
“If she is, then it is not my child,” he spat. “We never…I mean, we never actually…Oh, bloody hell. I never actually slept with her.”
Remington matched outrage with outrage of her own. “What do you mean by that? How dare you accuse my sister of…of being a trollop!”
Nicolas was livid. “I did not say that,” he said. “And what business is our relationship to you, anyway? ’Tis between us.”
“Oh!” Remington shrieked. Her open palm met with the skin of his cheek and his head snapped back. “My sister’s welfare is my concern, Sir Nicolas de Russe, since obviously I am the only one who cares anything about her. And I will not forgive you for slandering her in such a manner. Of course the child is yours; she says it is yours and she should know.”
“And I say I have never… we have never… I have never truly bedded her in the literal sense!” he exploded.
Remington froze, her face wide open with shock and dismay. Her fury was deeper, more powerful, and much less superficial. The tone of her voice dropped to something low and threatening. “How dare you speak of her as if she was a whore!”
“I did not say that.” His voice lowered, too, but he was still raging. “I never said that.”
“You did,” Remington shot back with seething fury. “You said her child is not yours. You may not have called her a whore in words, but you intimated it.”
“I…damnation!” He hissed, turning away from her. He had always had a difficult time controlling his passions. He was shocked and angered by the news, the ensuing conversation. He faced her again, slowly. “I never meant to call her a whore. I would never call her that, for it would be untrue. But I swear to you on my mother’s grave that I never actually….” Hemade hand gestures, trying to describe what he could not bring himself to say in front of a lady. When she continued to stare at him, hurt, he gave up his charades. “I never penetrated her. I will admit we did everything but the act itself; she was afraid to go any further.”
Remington’s face was pale with emotion. They were both calming somewhat, but she was still shaken. “Nicolas, my husband took her virtue when she was eleven years old. Of course she is afraid to bed with a man. Did she not tell you any of this?”
“She did,” he sagged, his shock settling in. “I never pressured her in any way. Honestly, Remington, I do not know how she could be pregnant if we have neverbeentogether.”
“That is Lady Remington to you,” Gaston came up behind them, his face like stone. One look at his expression told both Remington and Nicolas that he had seen their anger, their gestures, and was greatly displeased. “Away, Nicolas. I will deal with you in a moment.”
Nicolas bowed away without another word. Gaston’s gaze was hostile on his cousin and Remington could see that his anger was not focused on her, but on the knight.
“Do not be harsh with him, Gaston,” she said softly. “He was shocked and upset. Our argument was harmless.”
