The day was beautiful and warm, the humidity lacking. Remington shunned her cloak, enjoying the warmth and fresh air and allowing the brilliance to lift her spirits. With each hoof-fall, she felt safer, more at ease. Hubert rode silently, listening to her hum a lullaby his mother had sung to him when he was young.
“You have a son, do you not?” he asked.
She nodded. “He’s fostering at Oxford. And I have twin daughters, as well.”
“Oh? I was not aware of any daughters when I visited Mt. Holyoak, but your son was pointed out to me.”
She giggled. “That’s because the girls were not born yet. They are three months old.”
He looked surprised. “You do not look as if you have recently birthed children. In fact, you look….” He stopped himself, mortified that he was about to compliment the Dark One’s woman as if she were an unattached, available female. ’Twas the natural male instinct in him to compliment and flatter, and her femininity brought out every ounce of his maleness. “You look quite pleasant, my lady.”
She giggled louder, amused at his embarrassment. “It is very well if you tell me I look pleasant, Hugh. Every woman likes to be showered with tribute.”
He was glad she wasn’t looking at him; he was blushing like a fool. As fair as he was, his cheeks were glowing red. “I did not mean to sound… well, bold.”
She shook her head, pulling her mass of curls over one shoulder and off her neck to cool it. “You did not. You were very polite.”
He went silent, still humiliated with his near-slip. Sensing his embarrassment, she sought to ease him. “Are you married now, Hugh?”
He looked off across the green hills. “Nay, my lady. Not yet.”
“Are you betrothed, then?”
“Nay,” he replied. “Much to my mother’s concern. She should like grandchildren before too long.”
“Where does your mother reside?” she asked, fanning her face.
“At Ripley,” he said. “Lord Ingilsby was kind enough to provide for her. She does a good deal of sewing and other services for Lady Ingilsby.”
Remington fell silent, thinking of plain Lady Ingilsby. She couldn’t help but remember when Alex Ingilsby had pleaded with her to run away with him, declaring his affection for her. It had been so hard for him to admit his feelings, as he was shy andsomewhat reserved, and she had been as kind as she could when she declined his offer. He was such a tremendously nice man.
“Lord Ingilsby traveled to London to testify on my behalf for the annulment hearing, you know,” she said softly. “I was told he was a most powerful witness.”
“He was,” Hubert concurred. “I accompanied him and he was most passionate, which I found surprising. He is usually a quiet man.”
Remington did not say anymore, afraid of where the conversation would lead. She was married to one man and the lover of another. If Hubert discovered that still another man had declared his want for her, she would appear as nothing more than a whore. She did not want him to think less of Gaston because he loved a whore.
Yet he already knew she had bore Gaston twins, and that she had been committing adultery with him for a year. Still, his manner and words indicated nothing but the highest respect for the man. If he did not greatly regard Gaston, then he would not be risking his life to save his lover from her legal husband.
It never occurred to her that he would think less of her for the life she had chosen. She was simply worried that he would perceive Gaston differently. And with the humiliation the man had suffered through the hands of his wife and former king, she would not allow that to happen.
They rode quietly for a short while. As they passed Wakefield and drew closer to Leeds, activity on the road increased. Remington eyed the peasants and travelers on the road suspiciously, as if she expected every one of them to seek out her husband and tell him exactly where she was. But other than a glance or two, no one seemed to show any interest in her or the knight at all.
They skirted Leeds and Hubert spurred his destrier into a jogging trot. The great bouncy gait made Remington burp veryunladylike and she was embarrassed, hoping he would either slow or speed up the pace. Much more of the jostling and she was sure she would bounce right off.
Hubert took them off the main route and onto a smaller, less traveled road. Whereas the main course dipped and curved into the towns it serviced, the less-worn road plowed straight and true north. Ripley wasn’t far off.
The afternoon faded. Remington felt boneless, weary and weak as she lay against Hubert’s broad chest. His armor was hard and cold, but it comforted her. It reminded her of Gaston.
Her heart leapt into her throat at the thought of him. She knew he was pursuing her, but her heart ached when she realized he knew nothing of her fate. The panic and the pain he was surely feeling brought tears to her eyes. How she wished she could comfort him, convince him she was sound and whole.
Her arms pained to hold him, and her lips quivered to kiss him. God, how she hurt for him.
Tears came but she dashed them away discreetly, hoping Hubert would not sense her sadness. She had no right to be sad; after all, he had saved her from certain humiliation and death. She tried to steady herself, to think ahead to Ripley, and to Gaston.
Hubert heard her sniffling, sympathy for her situation squeezing at him. He patted her arm gently.
“No need for tears, my lady. We shall soon be safe at Ripley.”
