She nodded, drying at her eyes. “I know that. Forgive me for being foolish, Hugh,” she turned to look at him, forcing her face to brighten. “I have thought of a way to repay you for your sacrifice. I swear to you that I will name my next male child Hubert, if indeed I have another child.”
He smiled weakly. “No need, my lady. A simple thanks will be quite sufficient.”
Her smiled faded, sincerity filling her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered.
He nodded vaguely, tearing his eyes away from her consuming gaze. It was not difficult to see why Sir Gaston was so deeply in love with her.
They were riding through a light bank of trees and Remington heard the rushing of water not far off. Thinking it to be a delightful place to stop, if just for a moment, she turned to Hubert.
But her words died in her throat. Suddenly, Hubert was hit from behind so forcefully that both he and Remington went pitching off his destrier.
Dazed, Remington struggled to her knees only to hear a piercing hoot that made her hair stand on end. Panicked, she fought to gain her footing just as she heard a sword unsheathe behind her.
Hubert was on his feet, disoriented and shaken, but otherwise unharmed. He started to yell at Remington, but was cut off as two men charged him from the trees, barbarians from the way they were dressed. As the two rushed him, another man closed in on Remington.
She saw him coming, big and hairy and unkempt. With a scream, she bolted for the destrier, hoping to find a weapon strapped to the saddle.
The horse, however, saw her charging for him and began to snort and dance, preparing to fight. Fortunately, Remington looked up from her panic and saw the animal’s agitated state. Thinking quickly, she continued to dash and wave her arms, working the horse into a frenzy. Praying she was fast enough, she veered sharply from the animal just as he started to charge.
The horse did not care who he injured. The big, hairy accoster was confronted by a very angry warhorse thatproceeded to bite his arm nearly in half. Screaming and howling, the man stumbled back the way he came.
But the reprieve was short lived. There was another man ready to take his place, barreling toward Remington like a runaway wagon. Over to her left, Hubert had dispatched one man and was struggling with the other. He was quick and efficient, and the unintelligent bandits were no match for him. Two dead men lay at his feet as Remington rushed toward him for protection.
The man rushing toward Remington had a weapon in his hand, a thick broadsword, tarnished and dirty. Just as Remington ducked behind Hubert, the man was upon the knight and the sound of metal against metal clanged loudly in the still summer air.
Remington stood back, panting loudly with fright as Hubert engaged the tall, youngish man. Her hands clutched at her throat in fear, cringing every time the alloy swords came together.
The fight was ferocious and bitter. Hubert fought extremely well against the man, who seemed as if he intended to chop his quarry to death. His strokes were jerky, harsh, and unskilled, but there was a great deal of power behind them.
Suddenly there were hands grabbing her from behind and she let out a whoop of shock and terror. Someone had her around the waist, pulling her up off the ground and breaking for the nearest thicket.
Remington screamed and fought, trying to kick and punch, battling for her very life. It proved to be difficult, however, for her molester held her quite easily and provided her with no opportunity to land a good blow. Her balled fists were meeting with air.
Another man came up beside her, grabbing her by the hair and the man who fisted her hair so savagely leaned closed to her,telling her in no uncertain terms what he planned to do with her. Horrified and sickened, Remington began to bellow at the top of her lungs, far less screaming and far more blatant anger.
The men who held her merely laughed. The one who carried her tightened his grip as the other one ran his dirty hands up her bodice, fondling her tender breasts. Remington lashed out, aiming for his groin, but being rewarded with a sharp crack to her skull.
Stars danced before her eyes and night was beginning to fall, but she fought it. She had to. She refused to die at the hands of rapists.
She stopped yelling for Hubert, knowing in her heart he must have met with the cold blade of his opponent. Her heart ached for the brave man, and for herself as well. Why, God, did you save me from Guy, only to meet my end out here in the wilderness? Gaston will never find me now.
The man with his hand on her breast suddenly grunted. His eyes bugged, and blood dribbled from his mouth. Remington’s eyes widened as he fell away from her, dripping blood on her ecru-colored dress. She glanced up to see Hubert descending, his sword arcing a blinding streak.
She cried out as his sword came down inches from her shoulder and she felt the hands that held her open. She did not hesitate; she was free and she leapt clear of the fight, tripping over the man who had so recently touched her breasts. As she struggled over his body in her hysteria, one glance at the corpse showed a rugged dirk protruding from his back.
She fled, although she knew not where she was going. Only that she had to run, to escape the ambush. She was positive there were more bandits rushing forward to capture her, to rape and ravish her. She had to reach safety, wherever it may be.
Panic clouded her mind as she ran, skirts hiked up to her knees. Just as she reached the perimeters of the trees, a shout came from behind her. Someone was calling her name.
“Remington!”
She was panicked, as a hunted animal. There was no earthly way she was going to stop; surely it was a trick. Heart pounding, she ran even faster for the shelter of the trees.
“Remingtooooonnnn!”
A shadow of sensibility filtered into her hysteric mind. The roar sounded sincere, somehow… almost gentle, if that were possible. And the tone was thoroughly pleading. Although she did not want to, she stumbled to an unsteady halt and turned to the source of the shout.
Hubert was walking toward her, covered with gore. She couldn’t see his face through the lowered visor until he lifted it with shaking fingers. His gray eyes were wide with excitement and fear.
