“We do not gamble,” she insisted as he took her elbow.
“Playing for money would be gambling. We played for apples.”
He smirked faintly, helping her into the carriage. His gaze lingered on her tenderly as she seated herself, turning to snap orders at his men the moment the door was closed.
The humidity was already stifling as they traveled south. The outskirts of the megalopolis of London came into view, towns that ran into one another until the main body of the city was reached. Remington forgot about de Tormo as she absorbed the sights and sounds and smells around her.
She was entranced with her first visit to the heart of the Christian empire. She couldn’t believe there were so many people, all of them moving about their business before the day got too hot. They would stare at her in the carriage just as she stared at them, the peasants wondering who the beautiful woman was in the papal coach.
The morning progressed and they drew closer to Windsor. The Thames ran a quarter mile to the south and Remington could see the activity on the great river. She wished her sisters could see the sights she was experiencing and would have enjoyed herself completely had not the lingering horror been cloying her mind.
Guy was coming closer. ’Twas of no matter that her sworn protector and lover was the most powerful knight in the realm. The fact remained that Guy was still legally her husband, and she was almost faint with terror every time she thought of seeing him again. Even though she knew Gaston would do everything in his power to prevent Remington from meeting with Guy, somehow she knew she would see him anyway.
Gaston reined Taran next to the coach. Remington perked up at the sight of him. “How far are we from Windsor?”
“Not far,” he said. “But my messenger has returned and informed me that Henry is at the Tower of London. I shall leave you off at Windsor and then proceed on to the Tower.”
She ran cold and her smile faded. He saw her reaction, knowing exactly why the color had drained from her face. Guy was at the Tower. But more than that, she was terrified that hewas going to leave her in a strange castle, surrounded by strange people.
He reined Taran closer to her, his thick legs in armor brushing up against the carriage. “Do not worry, angel. I won’t be long; just long enough to see Henry and inform him of the purpose of my visit.”
Tears were welling in her big eyes and she tried to blink them away. “Do not leave me at Windsor. Please take me with you.”
“I believe it would be better if I went to see Henry alone,” he said gently. “I shall leave Nicolas with you to keep you company.”
De Tormo had been listening to the conversation; it was hard not to. “De Russe, you would be wise not to take her to the Tower. The further she stays away from her husband, for now, the better. And if I were you, I would not even tell Henry where she is. Yet.”
Gaston looked at the priest. “He will surely find out, considering she will be staying in his residence.”
The priest shrugged. “If you were truly wise, my lord, you would not leave her at Windsor at all. You would keep her with you at all times or you would harbor her somewhere else for the time being.”
“Why?”
“Think on it, if you were to leave her alone, even with a knightly escort, Henry could send his men to take her to her husband behind your back. He is not beyond that, you know. Not for the purpose of betraying you, but if I cannot convince the papal legate that she should be given sanctuary until this matter is resolved, Henry will have no choice. If he does not know where she is, then he cannot send anyone for her, now, can he?”
Gaston looked at Remington. “Agreed,” he looked back at de Tormo. “St. Catherine’s?”
De Tormo shifted his fat body in the seat. “I may have spoken hastily on that matter. Henry would find her at St. Catherine’s. Surely you have a manse in London, or at least know men who do? Men who are willing to do you a favor?”
“I have my family’s manse along the Thames, but you can observe the home from the Tower,” Gaston replied. “’Tis too close.”
“Nay,” de Tormo shook his head. “Keep her there, and keep her out of sight.”
Gaston glanced at Remington again, who wasn’t looking quite as fearful as she had been. He was pleased that the priest was looking out for her welfare, and not merely following the rigid moral code of the church.
“I…I appreciate your foresight, de Tormo,” he said after a moment. Thanks, as well as apologies, came difficult for him. “We thank you.”
De Tormo looked at Remington as well, a saucy smile on his lips. “My loyalties are not to you, de Russe, but to the lady. I have a fondness for a woman who gambles for apples.”
She smiled back. Gaston interrupted the warm moment. “This conversation never took place, then.”
“Never. I have had no knowledge where the lady is,” de Tormo agreed.
“I did not know you had a manse in London, Gaston,” Remington said.
“It belonged to my father. My uncle, Nicolas’ father, lives there,” he suddenly groaned softly. “By God, I cannot believe I am leaving you in Uncle Martin’s care. If the man does not drive you daft within a day, I shall be surprised.”
“I’d rather be with your uncle than in a castle full of strangers,” Remington said, eyeing him warily. “Why would your uncle drive me daft?”
