Rise of the Defender (118 page)

     Angry as hell, the King of England grabbed
his serrated broadsword and marched for the bowels of the abbey. He had no
doubt as to who was doing the fighting.

***

     Marcus and David stood before Richard in
the grand hall, a few of the king's officials surrounding the tired monarch as
he glared back at his disobedient vassals. He was so damn tired all he wanted to
do was sleep, but instead, found himself breaking up a serious fight. Had he
not intervened when he did, David de Lohr would now be preparing for his
burial.

     “I know why you were fighting,” Richard
said in a low voice. “I need no explanation. And from what I am told, it was a
long time in coming. But I will tell you this now; I will hear no more of
fighting between you two. There is no one in this world I am at peace with,
including my brother, and I shall not stand for any goddamn fighting within my
own ranks. I should like there to be just one minute measure of stability in my
life right now, gentle knights, and I should like it to start with my loyal
warriors, or I swear I shall take Lady Dustin with me and keep her at Windsor
if you two cannot make peace with each other. Is that understood?”

     Marcus and David nodded simultaneously.
“Aye, sire.”

     “Good.” Richard exclaimed, eyeing them both
critically. “I will ask one thing, however; who started it?”

     David piped up before Marcus could speak.
“I did, sire. I sought Marcus out.”

     “David, you know better than to cause
trouble.” Richard jabbed his finger at him. “Good Lord, you are just like your
father. Hot-headed and aggressive. But I will tell you now, no more of it.
Christopher, thank God, controlled himself better than most men and you should
have learned from him. And Marcus; you are David's superior officer. You should
not have responded to his challenge.”

     “I was given little choice, sire,” Marcus
responded. “It was either defend myself or die.”

     Richard shot David a withering look. “Get
hold of yourself, Sir Knight. Come to grips with your grief and the future will
work itself out. It does not need your interference.”

     David lowered his gaze, his jaw ticking.
Marcus didn’t dare look at him, both of them feeling like naughty children
being caught with their hand in the candy jar. Marcus didn’t hate David, but he
hated the animosity he was creating. If David would only surmount his guilt and
anger, he was sure his feelings would calm.

     “Back to Canterbury with you on the morrow,
de Lohr,” Richard said finally. “Go back and marry your Emilie and I will hear
no more about you and Marcus Burton.”

     “Aye, sire,” David said softly, bowing as
he quit the hall.

     Marcus passed a glance at Richard when
David was gone, waiting to be dismissed also but surprised to find Richard
staring at him.

     “Do you love her, Marcus?” he asked softly.
“Is she worth dying for?”

     “Without a doubt, sire,” Marcus replied. “I
love her with all my heart.”

     Richard held his gaze a moment longer
before shaking his head in resignation. “What is it about this woman? The two
greatest knights who have ever lived love her, and I am frankly astonished.
Why, Marcus? What makes her different?”

     Marcus shrugged. “I can only tell you why I
love her, sire, not why Christopher did. She is beautiful, innocent,
compassionate, spirited. She is everything a woman should be.”

     Richard absorbed the answer, lowering his
gaze to the tabletop. The seconds ticked away with deafening silence, but
Marcus knew the conversation wasn't over yet.

     “Marcus, with Christopher gone, I am in
need of a champion. Will you do this for your king?”

     Marcus stared back at Richard a moment,
unsure of what he had just heard. But the realization of it hit him and his
eyes widened a bit. “You want me as your champion?” he repeated.

     “You are the best knight in the realm; even
David has acknowledged that,” Richard said. “I need you, I need your strength.
Will you do this?”

     Marcus did not know what to say. Being
Richard's champion was his lifelong ambition. God, how long had he yearned to
hear that question asked of him? A lifetime, a bloody lifetime, but he found
now he could not positively respond to it. Being Richard's champion would mean
living in London, away from his keep. Aye, Dustin would be with him, but he
wouldn't want her to bear the scandal that would surely fall upon her
shoulders. All who would see her would think that she certainly did not wait
long to fall into Marcus' arms after the death of her husband. Nay, he could not
allow Dustin to go through that.

     Being Richard's champion would mean
fighting his battles at his side, as Christopher had done. And Christopher was
now dead. Marcus knew Dustin could not bear to be a widow twice in one
lifetime, and he decided at that moment that living his life with her within
the safety of his compound was greater glory than living by the sword as
Richard's right hand. He could hardly believe he was about to turn his king
down.

     “Were you told that I agreed to champion
John once?” Marcus asked quietly.

     Richard nodded. “For which you received
Somerhill. A clever ploy to gain lands, Marcus, I will admit, and
understandable. Yet I also know that you met with an unfortunate accident and
were unable to champion my brother, but still managed to retain your
baronetcy.”

     Marcus lifted his eyebrows. “I oft wondered
how you would react to such knowledge, sire,” Marcus replied. “Even as I agreed
to it, I deemed it a most treasonous act. I am grateful that you do not see it
as such.”

     “We all do what we must in this life to
gain our own ends,” Richard said. “I am certainly guilty enough of that. But
tell me now; will you be my champion?”

     “Sire, as honored as I am that you have
asked this of me, I am saddened that I must refuse,” he replied steadily. “My
single greatest desire in life is to return home with Lady Dustin and her
child, and live my life fully.”

     Richard gazed at him a moment before giving
an ironic chuckle. “This woman intrigues me that she would cause you to give up
everything you have worked for in life. You are a soldier, Marcus, the very
best. You would give this all up for her?”

     “Aye, I would,” Marcus met his eyes
clearly.

     Richard sighed heavily, scratching at his
unkempt hair. “Amazing. Well, then, I suppose there is nothing more to say. Are
you sure of this, Marcus?”

     “Verily, sire,” Marcus replied.

     The king scratched his head again and stood
up, moving stiffly around the table and toward Marcus. Marcus met his monarch
tall and straight and proud.

     “Mayhap if Lady Dustin is so great, I
should make her my queen,” Richard joked. “Or, better yet, send her to Philip
Augustus and bring down the entire French Empire.”

     Marcus smiled. “You'd have to fight me for
her, sire.”

     Richard guffawed loudly and slapped Marcus
on the shoulder. “Will you at least answer the call to battle if I send for
you, Marcus? Can I expect your assistance?”

     “Of course, sire,” Marcus replied. “I shall
always bear a sword for you when asked.”

     “But you will not champion me,” Richard
prodded gently.

     “Nay, my lord,” Marcus replied regretfully.

     Richard shrugged and slapped Marcus again.
“I could but try once more. Well, it would seem I am forced to choose a
champion again. Who would be worthy of me, I wonder?”

     Marcus gave his opinion as the two of them
wandered from the hall.

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

     Christopher's strength was slow in
returning. It was a full week before he was able to sit up unassisted, greatly
setting back his timetable for returning home. Marianne and Lizabetha tended
him every day, making sure he was fed and comfortable, and he was deeply
indebted to the both of them. He knew the way to reward Marianne would be to
regain Rob's keep, but he was at a loss how to thank Lizabetha. The girl was
far gone in love with him and he would do nothing to encourage her.

     During the fourth week after his injury, he
got it in his mind to stand. He knew he must stand if he was ever going to
completely recover, and he pestered Marianne until she covered her ears.
Finally, to keep him quiet, she promised to ask Rob and Jonathan to help him
when they returned from the hunt. Satisfied, Christopher let the matter rest.

     But it did not last long. Rob and Jonathan
were gone nearly the entire day and by late afternoon. Christopher was antsy.
Lizabetha sat with him, quietly doing her needlework in the corner when
Christopher decided he was going to stand that very minute. Panicked, Lizabetha
pleaded with him not to try it, but he ignored her. Finally, in desperation,
she agreed to help him. He would do it with or without her help, and she knew
he could not do it alone. And besides, she did so want to be near him.

     But it was a long, slow process. First, he
sat up. When he felt strong enough, he braced himself against a stool and
pushed himself onto his knees. Kneeling, he was as tall as Lizabetha and her
eyes widened when she realized for the first time what a giant he was. After
several long minutes of panting and resting before the next move, he flashed
Lizabetha a triumphant smile and put one foot in front of him, so he was
kneeling on one knee as if in a bow. Lizabetha wrung her hands nervously, she
was excited and terrified at the same time.

     Laboriously, Christopher tried to push
himself up and Lizabetha instinctively grabbed hold of him. As soon as he tried
to put his weight on his legs, he realized that his idea was not a good one and
toppled back onto his pallet, taking Lizabetha with him. She fell on top of
him, her light brown hair splaying and emitting a yelp of surprise. Christopher
was concerned that he had hurt her somehow with the fall and started to voice
his concerns when suddenly, she began kissing his face.

     Light, quick, hot kisses peppered his left
cheek and part of his chin before he grabbed hold of her and pulled her back.
He opened his mouth to order her to cease, but her fingers went over his mouth
and sweet, virginal Lizabetha turned into a squirming body of lust.

     “I know it is wrong, my love, I know,” she
whispered breathlessly. “But I have loved you from the very moment I lay eyes
on you and I simply cannot help myself any longer. Please do not deny me, my
sweet, powerful knight.”

     “Lizabetha!” Christopher snapped as
non-forcefully as he could, holding her at arm’s length. “My lady, you are
correct when you say that your actions are wrong. As flattered as I am, I am
afraid that I have a wife and babe, whom I adore. I cannot and will not carry
on a liaison with you, child.”

     “I am not a child!” Lizabetha insisted
hotly. “I am a woman of flesh and blood, and I have never loved anything more
in my life as I love you. I want to give myself to you fully, my love, my
sweet, and I ask nothing in return. No one will know.”

     He was at a distinct disadvantage. He was
not tempted in the least, but she was pressing herself mightily and he knew
from experience that a scorned female was a bitter, spiteful creature. He owed
these people his very life and he was sorely pressed to reject her.

     “Lizabetha, listen to me,” he said calmly,
gently pushing her off of him. “I am flattered, sweetheart, really, but I will
not take advantage of you. Moreover, I love my wife and would do nothing to
jeopardize our marriage. Someday when you have a husband of your own, you will
understand. Be a good girl, now, and get me a drink of water. Please?”

     Lizabetha pouted darkly. “Forget the bloody
water,” she said dramatically. “I want you to take me, my lord, do away with
this troublesome virginity. Take me or I shall surely kill myself.”

     “Not before I kill you first!” Marianne
ducked into the hut and Lizabetha screeched, pleading for her hide to be
spared.                        “Leave us now, niece. I shall deal with you
later.”

     Lizabetha fled in terror and Marianne
turned back to Christopher, her face flushed with dismay.

     “My lord, I humbly beg your forgiveness for
Lizabetha's rashness,” she said, deeply ashamed. “She is young, sire, and….”

     Christopher waved her off. “Say no more, my
lady. I understand completely, although I must say I was a bit worried there
for a moment,” he admitted. “You came in the nick of time; otherwise it might
have been her word against mine.”

     Marianne shook her head. “We all know
Lizabetha has been smitten with you. We wouldn't have believed anything she
said if she had accused you of being less than chivalrous. I apologize for her
again, my lord.”

     He smiled at the woman's embarrassment. “No
need, my lady. No harm done, except to her feelings, mayhap.”

     “The pain she is feeling in her heart now
will be nothing compared to the pain of her blistered backside,” Marianne
remarked. “A willful one, she is.”