She froze, bile rising in her throat. Dear God, did this man have no mercy? Forcing her feet to move, she shuffled unsteadily to where he was standing. Expectantly, she stood in front of him and prayed fervently that she would not vomit on him.
“Kiss me, Remington,” he repeated.
It suddenly occurred to her that he wished forherto do the kissing. As if she were servicing him. Like a whore. She stood on her toes and pecked him lightly on the lips, backing away so fast she nearly tripped. He frowned.
“That was not a kiss,” he said. “When I said kiss me, I meant it. Let me feel your tongue.”
She let out a whimper and closed her eyes, hanging her head. “Guy, why must you…?”
“Kiss me!” he snapped. “Do it or I will speak with you no further.”
She had to get it over with; arguing with him would be to no avail and she was desperate enough to do almost anything to gain her means. Thrusting herself forward, she latched onto his lips and pried his mouth open with her tongue, only to be met by his eager response. Frightened and sickened, she pulled away as quickly as it started and staggered away from him, truly fearful that she would become ill.
Guy smiled. “You see? That was not so bad.”
She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, ashamed and disgusted. “Get on with it, Guy. What are your terms?”
He was smiling smugly at her. He wandered away from the window and seated himself comfortably in a chair. His gaze was lingering, while hers was hateful. The tension in the room was building as far as she was concerned, but he seemed very much at ease. Her impatience was growing.
“Go and sit,” he ordered.
Haltingly, she looked for the nearest chair and planted herself rigidly, waiting.
Guy continued to stare at her, entirely too confident.
“You will sit there for the remainder of the hour,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “You will not say a word, and you will return to me tomorrow when I have decided just what precisely my terms are. And I will have terms have no doubt. And you will not tell de Russe what has transpired during this hour. Is that clear?”
Stunned, she nodded. She knew him well enough to know there was nothing more to say; she had heard the tone before, and she was scared to death of it.
When Gaston opened the door an hour later, she bolted from the room as if her hair was on fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Gaston carried herfrom the third floor of the White Tower, all the way to his quarters near the Martin Tower. She was so upset that she was having difficulty walking and fury seized him as he held her tightly in his arms. He was terrified to know what Stoneley had said to her, and furthermore terrified that he would no longer be able to maintain his slimly held control. If Stoneley had threatened or harmed her, then he would truly kill him this day.
She pushed herself from his arms when they reached the small, but comfortable room he had occupied the previous night. As she sat, he poured her a strong drink and bade her drink the entire glass.
It was strong and she choked it down. As the warmth of it seeped into her veins, she felt herself calming. She calmed even more when Gaston pulled her out of the chair, took it himself, and then seated her on his lap.
His strength filled her. Free of Guy’s piercing stare, she was able to rationalize herself somewhat. Gaston waited for her to speak first.
“Bloody hell,” she mumbled, laying her head on his massive shoulder as he sat back in the chair.
“What did he say, angel?” he asked gently.
She thought a moment. Guy had told her to keep silent, but she would be damned if she was going to keep secrets from Gaston. Besides, there had been nothing much said.
“He told me not to tell you anything,” she began.
Gaston was torn between forcing the truth out of her and leaving her alone. She did not give him the chance to make a decision.
“But I did not promise him anything, so I would not be breaking my word,” she continued, snuggling against him and relishing the feel of his body. “But promise me that you will not become irate, no matter what. I cannot take any more strong emotion this day, Gaston. I will surely swoon.”
“I promise you, angel, I shall remain calm,” he assured her, but he wondered if he meant it. “What did he say?”
She sighed. “I get the impression that he believes I have been brainwashed by Henry somehow; he asked me why I was allowing myself to be the king’s pawn. Then…,” she paused, still disgusted by what had happened. “Then he told me to kiss him. I had to, Gaston, or else he said he would not speak to me anymore. After that, he had me sit in a chair for the rest of the hour. He told me to return to him on the morrow and he would relay his terms for his cooperation. He promised he would have terms, and he furthermore promised that it would cost me dearly. I wonder what he could mean? I have nothing of value.”
Gaston fought down his rage, concentrating on stroking her lovingly.
