Rise of the Defender (23 page)

     This was not the manner or words of a
disobedient, spiteful woman. He put his hands on his hips, trying not to glare
at her as he realized she truly had no idea of what had transpired because of
her thoughtlessness.

     “Aye, Edward is with me,” he said as evenly
as he could manage. “You do not know where I have been?”

     She shook her head, wiping her hands on her
dress. “Nay. Where?”

    
Good Lord
, he thought, turning away
from her a brief moment, trying to maintain his composure. She truly didn’t
know. He had been out terrorizing the peasants because he thought she was in
danger, and she was completely unaware of what she had caused.

     “Inside, lady, if you will,” he stepped
aside and motioned to her.

     Not sensing his conflict in the least,
Dustin preceded him into the castle and then allowed him to lead her up to her
rooms. Once inside, he closed the door softly and she turned to him.

     She watched him as he slowly removed his
helmet. It seemed to her that he was being rather thoughtful, and she wondered
why.

     “Is something wrong, my lord?” she asked.

     He looked at her then, a bit calmer. “Where
did you go today?”

     She looked confused. “To….to Rebecca’s
cottage. You took me there.”

     He shook his head as he removed his mail
hood. “Nay, I mean while Edward was supposed to be watching you. Where did you
go?”

     She blinked, pulling her long ponytail over
one shoulder absently. “We went to Mr. Codwalader's store for thread. Rebecca needed
an exact shade for the dress she is making, and he has the dyes. He always
helps her with her sewing.”

     So that was it. Simple, straight-forward.
He still could not believe she didn’t grasp the seriousness of the situation.

     “That is where you went?” he raised his
eyebrow. “Alone?”

     She nodded. “Aye, we cut across….” Her eyes
suddenly widened at him. “We forgot about Edward. Was he supposed to go with
us?”

     Christopher stared at her a moment before
letting out an ironic sigh, sitting heavily in an oak chair. He put his hands
to his head a moment, baffled at her innocence and suddenly lacking the desire
or energy to get angry with her.  He just couldn’t manage it.

     “Aye, he was,” he mumbled. “He was your
escort, Dustin, remember? That means wherever you go. Do you have any idea how
badly you frightened him when he went to bring you back and you were missing?”

     She sat down on her bed, looking at her
hands. “I forgot he was there, my lord. I am unused to escorts. When I
returned, he was gone and I assumed he had come back to the keep. So I walked
home alone, as I always have.”

     He eyed her. “There are certain things we
need to establish at this moment, Lady de Lohr. I have a great many enemies and
when you married me, they became your enemies, as well. You are not free to
come and go as you please, alone, for my enemies would take advantage of such a
situation. As my wife, you are a valuable commodity and must be protected. You
must remember this, Dustin. Your life will depend on it.”

     She swallowed. “You speak of the prince?”

     “As one,” he replied softly. “Everyone has
enemies, sweetheart. As Richard’s envoy, I have more than my share.”

     She was still staring at her hands,
thinking on his words. “Would they kill me?”

     “’Tis possible,” he said. “But more likely,
they would use you to get to me.”

     She looked at him then. “I do not
understand all of this, my lord,” she whispered. “Court intrigue is new to me.
I know nothing.”

     He nodded. “You have indeed lived a
sheltered, care-free life here at Lioncross. But no more, Dustin. You must grow
up. It is not merely my enemies, but dangers in general. This world is not a
safe place.”

     She hung her head and he felt himself
relenting fully. He could see that she had not meant to cause any chaos,
contrary to her nature. It was probably the first time in her life she had not
meant to cause trouble but had done so, anyway.

     “I apologize for my actions, my lord,” she
said regretfully.

     “No need,” he stood up. “Just remember
yourself, my lady, especially while we are in London. There is no room for
mistakes there.

     “Then mayhap you should leave me here, just
to be safe,” she said.

     He gave her a half smile. “Nay, wife, you
will come with me,” he said. “You will enjoy your stay, I am sure.”

     “With your enemies prowling the halls, looking
for the first opportunity to kill me? I think not,” she said with more irony
than fear.

     He laughed, causing her to smile. “I promise
I will give you your own dagger to defend yourself. I have a feeling you would
give any accoster quite a fight.”

     “I have my own dagger,” she insisted. “Do
you really think that I will need it?”

     “I was jesting, sweetheart,” he told her,
gathering his mail, hood, and helmet. “You will never again need to defend
yourself. I will do it for you.”

     “Why? Because you are my husband?” she
teased lightly. “I do not recall that our wedding vows instructed you to defend
me, only honor, obey, and trust.”

     He raised an eyebrow. “And you have already
broken two of those vows, and I know not about the third.”

     She knew which ones he was referring to. “Aye,
honor and obey have not always been my strong points, but I do trust you.
Truly, I do.”

     He was standing by the door. “You had
better,” he said. “And before the month is out, I intend to have the other two.”

     She smiled a sort of non-committal smile
and rose, turning away from him. He found his eyes drawn to her full breasts,
her shapely hips, and her whole figure. Christ, she was lovely and full and
supple. Thoughts he had had before, yet thoughts that stayed with him the rest
of the day.

     Christopher tossed and turned that night.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw Dustin, her sweet face, her luscious young
body. Christ, it had been so long since he'd had a woman that his natural urges
were getting the better of him and he’d been fighting off an erection most of
the evening.

     Yet he would not go to his wife. His vows
were firm and strong - she would have to come to him first. But his body
screamed to touch her, to hold her, to caress her and taste her like he had no
other. He had every legal and moral right to go storming into her room and
drive into her until he found his release and his seed beget an heir, but he
just could not seem to do it. He knew she didn’t want him, and that
strengthened his resolve not to seek her out.

     But he was terribly distended, thinking of
her, and he knew he would have to do something about it or face great unrest. There
were always serving wenches willing to relieve a man, no more than objects for
a man to relieve himself with. Throwing the covers off and hearing Caesar
squeal in protest as he was disturbed, he donned his breeches and left his
room, searching with an over-powering urge for a woman to release him.

     It wasn’t difficult. The castle was full of
willing wenches, even sleepy ones, and he returned to his room in no time with
a big-busted brunette ready to obey his every command.

     Christopher wasn’t nice about it. He
ordered the woman to strip as he removed his breeches and roughly squeezed her breasts,
suckling hard on her as she moaned and writhed loudly beneath him. His huge
hands bruised her soft breasts and her moans were partially of pain, partially
of pleasure. He ran his hands all over her, his eyes closed, not even realizing
that he was thinking her to be his wife. Wishing her to be.

     That was the extent of his foreplay. He
settled himself in between her legs and drove his massive organ into her so
hard that she did scream from pain, and he slapped his hand over her mouth to quiet
her. But her face soon awash with pleasure as he thrust into her, hard enough
to bump her head against the wall. When he felt himself building quickly toward
his release, he withdrew and turned the wench over on her stomach, propping her
up on her knees. A trick he had learned of, so as not to deposit his seed and
possibly beget a bastard, he eased himself into her anus.

     The wench moaned and cried softly, rubbing
her woman’s center as he pushed his way into her. Within two hard thrusts, he
was released, animalistic satisfaction washing over him, but nothing more.

     When he finally opened his eyes and looked
down at her dark head, he was suddenly struck by the fact he had been picturing
Dustin in his mind all along and was horrified at what he had done. He had done
nothing but mate in a purely bestial sense and he was disgusted with himself.

     God help him, he wanted his wife in every
sense of the word. He was ashamed that he was not strong enough to wait for
her. Kicking the woman from his bed, he barely gave her time to dress before
opening the door and practically throwing her from his room. He was hurried and
urgent, wanting to get her out and forget about the whole affair. He was a man
unused to regret, but regret he did.

***

     Dustin had no more woken up the next
morning than she began to hear the rumors that the baron had bedded one of the
kitchen servants. Deeply shocked, she pressed the silly maid who was helping
her with her bath until she was sure she had all of the horrible, humiliating
details. Even when she had stopped asking questions, the wench continued to
prattle on as if she were talking to another silly female and not the baron's
wife. She went on and on and Dustin sat in stunned silence until hot tears
began to sting her eyes and she chased the foolish woman from her room.

     It seemed that all she did was cry anymore.
She cried now because she was terribly hurt if the rumors were true, and she
had no reason to suspect that they were not. Except for fatherly kindness, Christopher
had never indicated the least bit of attraction for her and she knew it was
because she was unworthy of him. Yet he had seen it fit to take a kitchen wench
to bed with him, and that information cut her to the bone. He did not believe
her worthy enough to bed. The more she brooded, the more angry and hurt she
became until her pain was a raging fire in her chest.

     Why should she obey and honor him when he
had seen it fit to dishonor her? True, it was not uncommon or even discouraged for
the lord of the house to bed a servant. It was simply part of his privileges,
yet her father had never done it because he actually loved her mother. She was
blind and stupid to believe that Christopher would honor her in the same
manner.

     She was crushed. She simply could not deal
with the thoughts anymore and decided from that point on she would never again
allow herself to like him. Truth was, she was coming to like him a great deal
and for her emotions, she had received a slap in the face. That would happen no
more. Men, as she had always believed, were pigs and liars and cheats, and she
hated all of them. Christopher had almost changed her mind, but fortunately his
actions had brought her back to her senses.

     She dressed in a standard dress, brown cloth
skirt and a white blouse with a tight black girdle around her small waist. She
was in the process of putting on her black leather slippers when she caught
sight of her three new dresses hanging in her wardrobe.

     Dustin didn’t even think, the next thing
she knew, she was yanking the dresses out and slashing them, tearing them,
until there were shreds of lavender and gold and burgundy all over her room.
The remaining material that refused to tear was shoved into the hearth where it
burned brightly. Sweating and panting, yet somehow pacified with her venting
for the moment, she secured her long hair back to the nape of her neck and quit
the room.

     It was mid-morning before Christopher went
to seek her. He hadn’t seen her when he and the other knights had broken their
fast at dawn and had yet to catch a glimpse of her. Mayhap it was a guilty
conscience that made him more eager to see her than usual.

     He rapped softly at her door, calling her
name. Twice more he tried and received no answer. Quietly, he lifted the latch
and stuck his head inside.

     What he saw shocked him and he knew
instantly that someone had told her about his indiscretions. He should have
known the stupid bitch would have run and told everyone who would listen. He
felt sick to the pit of his stomach as he surveyed the torn dresses. Dresses he
had asked her to wear. Christ, he knew the symbolic meaning of the ripped and
destroyed clothing without even asking her and he was deeply distressed.

     It was his own fault; all of it. Had he not
been so proud, had he only been strong enough to wait, had he only…? It had taken
hurdles and leaps and bounds to bring their relationship to the point it had
reached, and looking at the chaotic room could only pray that it had not been completely
destroyed. He realized with growing concern that he didn’t want Dustin hating
him for the rest of his life. He wanted, nay,
needed
her companionship.  He’d
never needed anyone before the way he was beginning to need her.