She eyed him with disbelief and amusement. “Well, what are you doing dressed as a peasant?”
“A disguise,” he told her as if she were a simpleton. “I can stay close to you this way,” he suddenly let out a series of horrible, gravelly coughs and snorts. “And I am desperately ill until they see it fit to move you, Remi. Then, suddenly, I will be gone that very day.”
“To follow me,” Remington supplied with a smile.
He smiled back, eyeing the knight in the corridor. “Exactly. These buffoons in their fancy armor cannot protect you properly.”
She snickered, her appetite suddenly returning and she popped a grape in her mouth. “I do love you, Uncle Martin.”
He stopped a moment, the gentlest of expressions washing his face. “You do? Well, of course, I love you too, else I would not be here.”
“Have you heard anything of Gaston?” she asked, more grapes in her mouth. “I am terribly worried about him.”
“Nothing,” Martin drank from his cup. “I have been here in this convent since you left the Tower. See here; here comes your watchdog.”
Surely, Courtenay’s knight marched up on her table, eyeing Martin threateningly. “Is he bothering you, my lady?”
“Not at all,” she said steadily. “In fact, I find him rather interesting. He deals in…rags.”
The knight put himself between Remington and Martin. “Be gone with you, filth. Leave the lady alone.”
“It’s all right, truly,” Remington, insisted, rising and putting her hand on the knight’s armored arm. “He’s not bothering me. By the way, I do not know your name, my lord.”
He looked at her through cool green eyes. “Sir Steven de Norville, my lady. I serve Peter de Courtenay.”
She smiled, hoping to distract him from Martin. “You have been most kind, sir. Have you eaten?”
He glanced at the nuns hovering in the alcove by the kitchens. “Indeed. But the sisters are most uncomfortable with any contact you and I have. Which is why I must linger so far away, in the halls, to protect you,” he lingered a glance on Martin. “Keep to yourself, fool, or I shall remove you.”
Giving Remington a polite bow, he strode away and Remington regained her seat. “Whew.”
“No more talk, Remi. The nuns will surely kick me out of their sanctuary if I continue to molest you.”
She obeyed, finishing her meal in silence. When the young nun came to return her to her room, she went willingly. Somehow, things did not look so bleak anymore.
Remington slept the afternoon away. It was hot and sticky and she had not slept well the night before. It was a deep, dreamless sleep until a knock on the door woke her.
The young nun was back, her pretty face flushed with the heat. “Your presence is requested, my lady.”
Remington sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. “Who?”
“I do not know, my lady. Would you come with me, please?”
She nodded, taking a moment to brush at her hair and splash cool water on her face. Still tired, she followed the nun.
The sun was setting and the torches in the hall were being lit as they traveled down the stairs and into the common room. From there, the nun led Remington down another narrowcorridor and paused before an open door. The young woman indicated for Remington to enter.
Courtenay’s knights were standing on either side of the door. Steven de Norville looked at her, his eyes unreadable, and she was understandably puzzled.
Suddenly hesitant, Remington slowly entered the archway. But her hesitance was fleeting when she saw Gaston and Father de Tormo inside the room.
She let out a whoop and flew into Gaston’s arms. He swept her against him, holding her so very tightly. She was so happy she was shaking and laughing and crying all at the same time, and he clutched her fiercely. The very faint smell of her perfume, the fragrance he had purchased for her, filled him like a heady drug. His throat was so constricted with emotion that he couldn’t speak for a moment.
Behind them, someone cleared his throat. “My lord de Russe,” Sir Steven said quietly. “I am supposed to be present for any and all meetings.”
Gaston pulled his face out of Remington’s hair. “Wait out in the hall,” he said to the priest, ignoring the knight.
De Tormo rose from his seat and moved to the door. “Grant them a minute, de Norville, and then we shall rejoin them.”
