Trenton staggered to a halt, knowing he couldn’t keep pace with a running horse. But Dane did not stop and Trenton had visions of being left behind to fend for himself. The boney rump of the animal suddenly looked very appealing.
“Hey– wait!” he yelled.
Trenton ran almost as fast as the horse, making up for lost ground.
*
As night fell,Guy declared his want for a hot meal. In the next town of Stanford-on-Avon, Gutter’s Inn, a rousing establishment near the banks of the river Avon, seemed to beckon the loudest to Guy, and he drew the destrier alongside a hitching post.
This time, he helped Remington from the animal and proceeded to secure the beast.
“Have you any money?” he asked.
She shook her head, gaze averted. The blow he had landed her this afternoon had left a sharp bruise on her cheek and she was deeply ashamed. He raised an eyebrow.
“Then we shall have to go about getting some,” he said, glancing about. His gaze drifted back to her. “You are a whore. Do what you do and get me some money.”
Her eyes snapped up to him to see if he was sickly jesting. From his expression, she could see that he was entirely serious.
“Oh, Guy… no. You cannot be sincere.”
His jaw twitched and she flinched, waiting for the blow to come. But Guy showed a remarkable amount of restraint and controlled himself; it would be difficult enough to find a customer with the bruise she was already sporting.
“Come on,” he jerked her by the arm and led her into the warm establishment.
The interior was cloying and stank of ale and bodies, the loud roar of knights and men filling the common room. Wenches abound, doling out food and drink. In the corner, two minstrels sang and played a lute, trying desperately to be heard above the commotion.
Guy gripped her tightly as he guided her inside, his ice-blue eyes alert for a well-dressed traveler or knight. It did not bother him in the least that he was to offer his wife’s services; he was simply interested in eating.
The inn was jammed with men. Guy took Remington well into the room and pushed her into an empty chair, next to the garderobe.
“Wait here,” he growled. “If you so much as move an inch, I shall kill you.”
He was serious and she knew it.
Guy moved into the room, searching for the correct customer. Remington was so horrified that she couldn’t watch; she kept her head down, staring at her hands. She felt completely helpless and sickened; Gaston surely would not want her returned after he learned what Guy had done to her. Had she a dagger, she would have turned it on herself.
She knew she should at least try to escape him, but she had nowhere to go. She did not even know what town they were in, for she had not asked. And, surely, what citizen would not return an errant wife to her irate husband? She couldn’t be sure that anyone would help her, even if she did manage to escape.
She sat there for a long time, unaware of the conversation her husband was having with a large, well-dressed knight. The knight had not been interested at first until he glanced over and saw Remington’s lowered head. After a moment of hesitation, he paid Stoneley several coins and retreated up the stairs.
Guy moved back to Remington.
“Get up,” he hissed. “A knight has paid a good deal for your services and you will not disappoint him. Do you hear me? If he tells me that your wares were substandard, I shall take it out on your hide.”
Remington fought off the tears of shame, or horror, nodding once. Guy grabbed her by the arm, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, and escorted her to the base of the stairs. “The second door to your right. Get.”
He shoved her and she almost stumbled on the bottom step. Catching herself, she slowly mounted the stairs, the rumble of the common room fading as she proceeded down the hall.
She was shaking so badly that she could barely knock on the designated door. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a window at the end of the hall. God, how easy it would be to throw herself from the window and be done with all of this pain and humiliation. She wished she had the courage, but she did not.
Her fisted hand froze an inch in front of the door, the tears she had fought so valiantly against taking hold. But she wiped them away, knowing she had no choice and praying to the God she did not believe in that Gaston would understand.
The open window was looking more and more appealing.
She never got a chance to make her decision. The door in front of her flew open and a large body was suddenly in front of her. Before she could move, a hand reached out and snatched her into the room.
Gasping with shock and surprise, Remington heard the door bolt behind her and she swung around to face the knight, volumes of panic welling within her. A handsome blond man gazed back at her with concern, and he was oddly familiar.
