Gaston reached the litter and gently lifted her off, seeing that the color had gone out of her cheeks and knowing why. He sought to ease her. “Would you like to tour the Tower first? There are several points of interest.”
She nodded numbly, knowing a tour would only delay the inevitable, yet it might afford her the opportunity to regain some of her shattered composure.
With Nicolas and his other knights in tow, Gaston took her all over the structure, not really taking her into any buildings but pointing out specific towers and relaying stories. He was careful not to point out the Bloody Tower, or mention anything about the nephews Richard had murdered. He tried to make her more at ease in the unfamiliar place before he led her into the depths of the lion’s den.
As he had hoped, she regained some of her color and poise by the time he was finished showing her about. She asked small questions, seeming to take some interest in her surroundings when he knew the only thing she was truly focused on was the massive Tower in the center of the compound.
John de Vere joined their small party when the tour was nearly complete. Much to Remington’s surprise, he kissed her pleasantly on the cheek in greeting and proceeded to tell her how lovely she looked.
Remington eyed him as he conversed with Gaston, wondering if all men were as friendly as she had come to see since being introduced into Gaston’s world. Before she had met him, all men were cold, unfeeling bastards and she had hated them. But since she had met the Dark One, she had come to meet a great many men who were nothing but kind and courteous. Was it possible, then, that they were the norm, and that her father and Guy were the exception to the rule? She wondered.
Gaston turned to her after a few moments of conversation. “Well, angel, shall we get this over with?”
She was much more comfortable than she had been earlier and squared her shoulders. “Aye, let’s do. I am eager to get on with it.”
He smiled gently at her and took her arm, leading her across the compound. Remington noticed that not only were Gaston’s knights following him, but the earl as well. “Are they coming, too? Must I have so many protectors?”
Gaston gazed up at the tall, white structure. “I am your only protector. They are my protectors.” She looked puzzled and he smiled. “As I will be watching you, they will be watching me to make sure I do not get out of hand.”
She grinned back, timidly, not seeing his humor but smiling anyway. Truly, she was more than concerned with the prospect of Gaston losing his control. “Gaston, you promised me that youwould not commit murder. Would you break your promise to me?”
“Of course not,” he said. “But we sometimes do things in the heat of anger that we only have regrets for later on. I have no intention of deliberately breaking my promise to you, but….”
They entered into the dark structure of the White Tower and were met by two sentries. Taking the stairs to the third floor, Remington’s palms began to sweat and her heart began thumping in her ears. Aye, she was terrified, but with all of the men accompanying her, she also felt a strange sense of bravery. She knew Guy couldn’t touch her, and even entertained the thought of telling him what she really thought of him. Everything she had wanted to say to him but did not dare risk it.
They paused in front of a massive oak door and her heart surged into her throat. She swallowed hard, meeting Gaston’s eyes. He smiled as he removed his helm and motioned for the sentry to open the door.
The door to hell!
The knights and the earl preceded them both into the room. Gaston followed, leading Remington by the hand. Her eyes darted about nervously, searching for the figure of her husband when she came to rest on him several yards away.
All of her reasoning, her mental courage, fled.
Guy was looking directly at her, a thin smile on his lips and she jerked back from Gaston, stumbling back toward the door. Gaston quickly snatched her before she could bolt from the room, but he did not pull her forward. She was as far into the room as she wished to go at the moment, and he would not push. Her eyes were wide and senseless, like a frightened deer.
Guy took a few small steps, still smiling at her. “My God, Remington. I did not believe it possible that you could have grown any more beautiful, but you have. You are exquisite, darling.”
She shrank even more, a flush mottling her cheeks. She had completely lost the power of speech and Guy drew even closer. “What? No words of thanks, nor greeting? It has been over a year since we last saw one another. Are you not happy to see your husband?”
Her cheeks flushed a deeper red and she found her tongue. “I hate you, you bastard! God damn you to hell for the horror you have put me through for nine years, and may he further damn you for the pain you have caused my family! I hate you and I want nothing to do with you ever again!”
Old habits are hard to break. Guy had never heard that tone from Remington, because he forbade her to raise her voice. Instinctively, he stiffened and moved toward her, which was his grave mistake.
Gaston lashed out a huge, gloved fist and caught Guy in the side of his head, sending him crashing to the floor. Before the earl or Nicolas could reach him, he was looming over Stoneley like the angel of death.
“You were going to strike her, weren’t you?” he snarled. “You whoreskin, I shall kill you if you make another provocative move toward her.”
John and Nicolas pulled Gaston back, steering him back toward Remington, who reached out and pulled him to her. She clung to him, terrified he was going to kill Guy right before her eyes. But she truly did not know why she should prevent him from murdering a most vile creature.
Guy was slow to come around, for Gaston had dealt him a brutal blow. He shook his head several times before weakly pushing himself onto his knees, the world spinning and his ears ringing. His cheek throbbed terribly, and he was sure the bone was broken.
“The church will have something to say about your treatment of a prisoner,” he finally gasped, putting his hand to his head andrising to unsteady feet. Not a man in the room moved to help him.
Gaston’s face was drawn with rage as he watched Guy move for the nearest chair. De Vere, seeing that the meeting was already going rather poorly, took charge.
“My lady, sit down if you would, please,” he eyed Gaston. “Sit down before you fall down, Gaston. Next to Remington.”
Woodenly, Remington sat several feet away from Guy and pulled Gaston down onto a taller stool as the earl pushed him. She was not so worried for herself anymore, but increasing concerned for Gaston’s stability. It was absolutely amazing to see him not in complete control of his emotions; she had never seen him in a rage and was, frankly, frightened.
