Rise of the Defender (29 page)

     David watched her work, surprisingly pretty
and feminine for a woman who seemed rather rough. He could see the wall around
her, the front she put up, yet the woman he had seen at the gravesite today had
been completely open and vulnerable. She tried to be tough in front of everyone
and David wondered if that still held true when she was alone with his brother.
No wonder Christopher was afraid to lay himself open for her, even if he did
like her. David had a feeling the woman could sting if she wanted to.

     As he watched her wipe at a table, they
both heard a loud shout from the bailey outside, and Dustin rushed to the lancet
window that faced the northeast side of the bailey.  She could partially see
the big gatehouse, now with its gates opening wide.

     “What is it?” David asked.

     Dustin turned around. “They are returning,”
she replied, setting the needlepoint down. “I shall go see.”

     David almost stopped her, but refrained. It
seemed to him that she wanted to go down to meet Christopher. As soon as she
left, he got out of bed and went to the windows, gazing out over the bailey as
the huge gates spilled forth men into the ward. He spied the knights, and saw
that they carried a prisoner.

     Hastily, he went in search of his clothes.

***

     Dustin stood in the open door of the
castle, shielding her eyes from the sun that had suddenly decided to make an
appearance from behind the clouds. She'd never seen so many soldiers in her bailey,
all mobilized and ready to fight when in fact they were returning. She knew
these men to be a mixture of Christopher’s loyal men-at-arms and men that her
father had taken with him to the Holy Land, but under her husband's direction,
they seemed to be much more disciplined than her father's troops had ever been.

     The knights, including her husband, were
congregating over near the eastern wall of the keep. Leeton was there, and she could
see him wrestling with a man that had been trussed up on the back of Max’s
destrier. Curious, she stepped out onto the large stone step to get a better
look.

     Christopher dismounted his destrier and
moved around to the prisoner, now held between Anthony and Leeton. Without a
word, he motioned for the man to be tied spread-eagle between the two six foot
poles near the wall. The man yelled and screamed and begged, but he was no
match for the knights.

     When the prisoner was secured, Christopher
stood before him, his visor up and his eyes like blue ice. He stared at the man
for several moments, enough to intimidate the hell out of him, and the man was
visibly shaken.

     “Now,” Christopher’s voice was low and
controlled, “I will give you another chance. Tell me who sent you.”

     The man was weak and afraid. “I…I told you
that no one has sent us. We were simply robbers, my lord.”

     “Robber’s with a fine crossbow? Robbers
bearing Prince John’s colors?” Christopher pointed out. “I think not. Why did
John send you?” He knew the answer already, but he wanted to hear the reply all
the same.

     “He didn’t,” the fat man insisted, spittle
dropping from his pale lips. “We were, we are robbers.”

     Christopher’s face was impassive as he
stared at the fat little liar. Brusquely he motioned to Anthony. “Strip him.”

     The prisoner wailed loudly, his pleas for
mercy going ignored. Anthony and Jeffrey proceeded to strip the man nude,
leaving his shredded clothing at his feet. Christopher crossed his arms over
his chest.

     “Do not whip me, my lord.” the man begged,
crying. “Please have mercy.”

     “I am not going to whip you,” Christopher
informed him rather callously, glancing up to the gray puffy clouds that
scattered in the sky. “Beg for mercy from the elements for they are your
nemesis now.”

     With that, he turned on his heel and headed
toward the castle. He was confronted by Dustin’s puzzled face as she stood on
the top step to the structure.

     “Who’s that?” she wanted to know. “What are
you going to do to him?”

     Christopher’s gaze was kindly on her. “That,
my lady, is a would-be assassin, and I intend to do exactly as you see,” he
replied. “A night in the cold ought to loosen his tongue.”

     Dustin gazed back at the prisoner, already
shivering in the cool temperatures of the day. “You intend to freeze him to death?”

     Christopher removed his gauntlets. “Perhaps,
but I doubt it will come to that. I expect him to be spilling his life story
before the sun sets.” He returned his focus to his wife. “I hear my brother
fares well. Where is he?”

     “Here,” David came out of the castle,
dressed once again in his armor. He rotated his shoulder gingerly. “A scratch.”

     Christopher raised an eyebrow. “That arrow
hit you hard, little brother. Are you sure?”

     “It was not a scratch, it was a deep
puncture.” Dustin frowned, angered that David had disobeyed her and gotten out
of bed.

     David smiled. “Mayhap to you, but to me it
is a scratch,” he said. “I am fine.”

     Dustin put her hands on her hips. “If you
exert that arm, you are going to tear the stitches.” she pointed out. “Would it
kill you to spend the remainder of the day resting?”

     “Probably not, but I do not feel like it,”
David replied, turning to his brother and motioning toward the captive. “Who’s
that bastard?”

     “One of John’s inept spies,” Christopher
replied. “We killed the other one.”

     “There were only two?” David asked. “Not an
army to ambush us?”

     “Nary a trace of an army,” Christopher
replied. “Just the two fools. I suspect we will have more answers by dusk.”

     Dustin, annoyed that David was ignoring her
and Christopher seemed to have forgotten she was there, stormed back inside the
castle. David and Christopher, still looking at each other yet completely aware
of her display of temper, smiled at one another.

     “She practically tied me to the bed,” David
said.

     “Is it really a scratch? Should I take a
look?” Christopher asked.

     “It is,” David insisted. “Look if you will,
but you will agree with me. As it is, I have a training session I am late for
over in the arena.”

     Christopher shrugged with resignation. “Very
well, go to it. But if you tear those stitches, do not ask me to defend you
from Dustin’s wrath. She shall have your hide.”

     David grinned. “She can have it,” when
Christopher’s smile vanished, he put up his hands in supplication. “A jest!
Jesus, Chris, where’s your sense of humor?”

     David shook his head and took the steps to
the bailey, followed by the de Velt twins. Jeffrey had left to attend to his
duties, leaving Christopher with Edward and Leeton.

     “He likes your wife,” Edward commented.

     “As my brother, I should hope that he
would,” Christopher replied evasively, wanting off the subject. “Don’t you two
have anything to do?”

     Leeton and Edward looked at each other,
then shook their heads simultaneously. “Nay.”

     Christopher glared at them. “Then find
something or I shall find it for you,” his gaze trailed to the open castle door.
“I will be inside.”

     He made his way to his rooms, passing by
Dustin’s chambers to see if she was there. When she wasn't, he went directly to
his bedchamber and stripped off his armor and clothing, taking the time to wash
himself from head to toe in the basin. As he washed, he was lost in thought. He
knew for a fact that the man in the bailey was John’s plant, and he knew the
arrow had been meant for him, or worse, meant for Dustin.

     Already John was starting his covert
assaults and Christopher decided that the sooner he get back to London and keep
track of the prince, the better. He briefly debated as to whether or not to
leave Dustin at Lioncross, yet he could not do that in good conscience. He
would not be comfortable unless he was protecting her, and he would worry if
she were left behind.

     He splashed water on his face, chuckling
bitterly at himself. When he had arrived on English soil, the greatest worry on
his mind was Richard's throne and his own hide. Now with the added element of a
wife he unexpectedly cared for, his problems were multiplied tenfold. Not only
did he have to keep himself safe, but he had to worry over her as well.

     It wasn’t fair. He was entrusted with the
most important mission of Richard’s reign and although it was inadvertent, the
king had given him the added burden of Dustin Barringdon. He briefly wondered
if Arthur hadn’t been a John loyalist and had planned the distraction all
along, knowing Christopher’s fondness for beautiful women.

     He knew John to be clever and conniving.
Christopher would have to be completely neutral in front of the prince when it
came to his wife; otherwise, he knew she would be used against him. If John so much
as suspected that he cared for Dustin in any way, then Christopher would be at
a disadvantage.

     He grabbed a towel, wiping his face and
neck, his eyes distant in thought. He had to be honest with himself - how on
earth could he remain neutral in regards to his wife? He could not, and he knew
that. He was damn possessive of her and for good reason, he liked her. And,
more importantly, he hadn’t yet consummated their marriage. If someone else got
to her before he was able to mark her….

     He remembered his promise not to force her into
his bed, yet as it stood, he was growing increasingly certain that he would
have to break that vow. Dustin was his, and he would be the only one to brand
her. He would kill any man who even as much as looked at her.

     He had two nights in which to do the deed.
He almost did it this morn, had it not been for David's interruption. The
thought of sweet, soft Dustin in his hands was enough to make him groan with pleasure.
Tonight would have to be the night, whether or not she liked it; otherwise, he
would have to do it tomorrow night while they were on the road. After that,
they would be in London and he didn't know when the opportunity would present itself
once they arrived.

     He changed into fresh clothing and donned
portions of his mail and armor. He had duties to attend to yet he had an
overwhelming urge to seek out his wife.

     He went with the urge.

***

     Dustin wife wasn’t indoors.

     She was outside in the overgrown garden
that her mother had kept, cutting the last of the summer blooms from the dying
stalks. Still dressed in the flowing black dress she had attended the funeral
in, she seemed intent on ripping flowers free of their confines as her long
blond hair did wild dances when the wind caught it. Christopher stood at the
gate leading into the walled garden, watching her movements. He could tell from
her body language that she was still perturbed.

     He came up behind her, watching her
struggle with a huge stalk. “’Twould be easier to cut it than to rip it.”

     She jumped in surprise, turning to look at
him. “You scared me.” she released the foxglove and tossed the other flowers
she was holding into a big basket beside her. “What is it that you want, my
lord?”

     “Want? Oh, nothing.” He crossed his arms
casually. “I came to tell you that we will be leaving for London tomorrow. You
had better pack all that you intend to bring this eve so we may load it up on
the wagon.”

     “We leave tomorrow?” she suddenly looked
forlorn.

     His brows drew together. “What’s wrong?”

     She shook her head, regaining her
composure. “Nothing, my lord. It’s just that London reminded me of Rebecca
again. Suddenly, I do not want to go so badly.”

     “Why?” he asked gently.

     She shrugged, gazing about her. Then, she
smiled ruefully. “Foolishness, my lord. I guess I was already homesick for
Lioncross. How long will we be in London?”

     He was standing a foot or so from her.
Before he realized it, he was reaching out and pushing stray strands of hair
from her face, tucking them over her shoulder. “A while,” he replied, studying
her face. “I am not sure exactly how long, but a while.”

     She sighed, excitement filling her as he
played gently with her hair. “I shall be ready, then. How many trunks may I
take?”

     He cocked a blond eyebrow. “How many will
you need? No pets, Dustin.”

     “I know that,” she eyed him. “It’s just
that when mother traveled to Nottingham last summer, she took six trunks with
her. Jeffrey said it was too many.”

     “Jeffrey is correct,” he replied. “Pack
everything you need and we shall decide from there if you need to cut back.” He
could not imagine she would manage to fill any more than two, three at the
most.

     Dustin gazed up at him as the wind whipped
about her in the private walled garden. She did so want to take Caesar but Christopher
had already told her that she could not. Well, he had said no pets, but Caesar
was more like family, wasn’t he? She knew she would miss the cat terribly and
decided to try to persuade him one more time.