Free The Dark One: Dark Knight by Kathryn Le Veque

unsteadily. 
“Nothing, my lord.”
         She moved past him and onto the path,
acutely aware of his massive presence behind her.  Much to her surprise, he did
not mount his destrier but instead chose to walk beside her. She fell silent as
they passed through the thickness of the trees and emerged onto a wider path
used by the peasants. 
         Gaston’s booted steps were heavy beside
her, like great stones crashing to earth in rhythm.  She stole a glance from
the corner of her eye and watched his powerful gait, thinking the size of his
hands to be bigger than her head.  A heady sense of pleasure filled her to
think this man had pledged to protect her against her husband, although she did
not believe it for a minute.
         She was so intently studying the size of
his hands that she failed to realize the destrier was plodding along behind
them without benefit of a lead, following Gaston like an obedient dog.  When
she finally did become aware of the fact, she was impressed.
         “Your horse is well trained, my lord,” she
said softly.
         He grunted.  “Taran is my other self.  We
have been together for many years.”
         “Taran?  I like that name.” She turned to
look at the destrier, whose head was as long as her torso.  “He seems docile
enough now.”
         Gaston glanced back at the horse.  “Taran
is Welsh for ‘thunder.’  And I assure you, my lady, his mood is temporary.  He
seems to be quite interested in you.”
         She looked at the horse more fully, his
rich charcoal-gray color and black, intelligent eyes. “He is beautiful.” 
Before Gaston could stop her, she reached out to stroke the animal’s muzzle.
         Gaston tried to shout for her to halt her
actions, but the words did not come fast enough.  As soon as she stroked the
silky fur, he had visions of Taran biting off her hand and he reached out to
pull her away.  But, to his amazement, the horse did not make a move against
her.  In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.
         Astonished, Gaston watched her as she fell
back a pace to walk beside the horse, speaking in a sweet, soft voice and
stroking his face.  Taran’s lids half-closed with blissful attention.
         “By God’s Bloody Rood,” Gaston muttered. 
Then, he actually snorted in amusement and Remington looked up. 
         “He is a sweet animal, my lord,” she said. 
“Is he always this calm?”
         Gaston shook his head.  “Nay, madam, that
horse had been the scourge of many an enemy.  In fact, I would say he has
killed almost as many men as I have.”
         They came to a halt.  Remington put her
hands on the horse’s head and lay her cheek against his nose, laughing when
Taran’s big tongue licked at her.  Gaston was so astonished he put his hand to
his face in disbelief.
         “He is as gentle as a lamb,” Remington
declared.  “I choose to disbelieve your slanderous statements against this
animal, my lord.  He is not a killer.”
         A shadow of a smile creased Gaston’s lips. 
Taran had never even been that affectionate with him at the best of times and
he was, frankly, flabbergasted.
         “I assure you, madam, he is indeed
formidable,” he said helplessly.
         Remington smiled at him, a smile that hit
him like a bolt of lightning.  His reaction was so sharp that it was almost
painful, but in the same breath he couldn’t ever remember seeing a more
beautiful smile.  His knees actually felt shaky and he cursed himself for his
foolishness. Women were a nuisance, a bother, self-centered bitches with no
purpose on earth other than to give a man pleasure and breed more males.  Mari-Elle
was living proof that a female was a useless, vile creature and he stuck firmly
by his beliefs.
         … Then why did he feel like a giddy squire?
         He cleared his throat quietly and resumed
walking. Remington continued beside him, a few feet away, and it took him