Rise of the Defender (88 page)

     After a moment he reached out and stroked
the stray hairs away from her face, tracing a finger over her lower lip. “I do
not know exactly when,” his voice was hoarse. “But soon. Mayhap within the next
week or so.”

     Dustin suddenly felt like crying, but she
had promised to be strong. Her sweet Christopher fighting against the evil
bastard John, possibly dying for a king who had never actually ruled England
from English soil, angered her to the point of madness. But she had promised to
be strong, and she intended to keep that promise. Even if it killed her.

     “Are you going north to Nottingham?” she
asked. “My grandsire is housing John's troops, is he not?”

     He nodded slowly, kissing her hand. “He is,
and north we will ride when John moves.”

     “Are you taking David and Edward and
Leeton?” she asked.

     “I must,” he replied. “And Marcus, too, if
I can ever get through to the man.”

     Dustin was glad Marcus was gone. It was
much easier for her to recover without having to deal with his face every day,
and without having to face an additional level of guilt.  If he was gone it was
easier to pretend nothing ever happened.

     “Marcus' keep is far north of Nottingham,”
Christopher was saying. “'Twould be a good thing to launch an attack against
John from two fronts, me from the south and Marcus from the north. But
Nottingham is so damned fortified, we must wait until we know John is moving
his army from the protective walls. 'Tis the only way to destroy him - out in
the open.”

     Moving off the subject of Marcus, Dustin’s
guilt shifted to her grandfather, a man she had never even met, and his loyalty
to John's cause. She wondered if Christopher blamed her somehow for causing so
much grief.

     “I am sorry,” she whispered.

     “For what?”

     “For my grandsire’s evil nature, for
helping John,” she said softly. “Lord, Chris, Ralph is my cousin. Doesn't that
make you angry or repulsed?”

     He shrugged. “Why should it? You cannot
choose your relatives, sweetheart, and you certainly are not responsible for
bloodlines.”

     “I consider you a noble Barringdon, Dustin,
not a Fitz Walter.”

     “I am a de Lohr,” she whispered.

     He grinned. “Aye, you are, aren't you?”

     They kissed sweetly, lingeringly. Kisses of
love grew into kisses of desire and they made love until the dawn.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

     Christopher left shortly after the sun rose
for the troop field. Dustin slept until mid-morning, rising happy and full of
spirit. She took a quick bath with rosewater and dressed in a heavy surcoat of
pale blue silk with the cross Christopher gave her being the only piece of
jewelry she wore.  Her mood was light and gay and the maids kept passing her
giddy glances as they went about their daily routines.

     Deborah joined her later, excitedly telling
her that she had heard rumor that a merchant from Venice was in the forecourt
and suggesting they go down to see his wares. Having nothing else to do, Dustin
agreed.

     The weather being so miserable outside,
several merchants were moved into the lower foyer of Windsor. There was no
mistaking the merchant from Venice, dozens of women were ogling over his wares
and bolts and bolts of exquisite material were stacked in neat rows.

     Deborah immediately delved into the
material while Dustin sniffed at the vials of perfume. Deborah eagerly asked
Dustin's opinion of several fabrics and colors, but Dustin would merely shrug, Deborah
knew much more of fashion and taste than she. While Deborah began to barter
with the merchant, Dustin lost interest in the perfumes and turned her
attention to the people who were filling the foyer and grand hall. From the
corner of her eye, she spied the Earl of Fenwark several feet away inspecting
feminine goods.

     Dustin watched the average-sized man pass
an eye over the wares, wondering hopefully if Lady Gabrielle was with him. But
he seemed to be quite alone and Dustin found her courage to go and ask him of
his wife; after all, Christopher never actually saw the earl beat his wife, so
therefore he could only speculate about her bruises and the reason behind them.
Mayhap he as wrong. And since Dustin hadn't talked to Lady Gabrielle since
their first meeting, she could simply pretend she hadn't seen the bruises on
the countess. Christopher would be angry she had disobeyed him, but she wanted
to try and speak with the earl for the sake of Lady Gabrielle.

     She walked right up to the earl and
curtsied deeply. When she rose, she noticed his scrutinizing gaze on her.

     “My lord earl,” she said. “I am Lady Dustin
de Lohr; I believe you know my husband. I saw you had come to Windsor yesterday
and wondered if your wife had accompanied you; she and I met at the tournament
in October and I enjoyed her and the Lady Isobelle very much.”

     The earl was impassive and rather cold.
“She did not accompany, Lady de Lohr, for good reason. My wife passed away
after Christmas.”

     Dustin was shocked. She took a step back
from the earl, her hand going to her throat in an unconscious gesture. “Oh….my
lord, please accept my condolences,” she stammered helplessly. “I am...I am
speechless, sire, truly. Was she taken suddenly ill?”

     His lip twitched in a most frightening
manner, disturbing Dustin all the more. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “She fell down
a flight of stairs and broke her neck. Now, if you will excuse me.”

     He pushed past her as if she were a leper,
leaving Dustin coming to grips with her dismay and sadness. She watched him
move toward the merchant from Venice, saying something to his aide and then
laughing merrily with the man. His callous attitude and stone-cold manner
turned her heartache in to growing anger.

     Deborah saw her sister-in-law's face and
quickly moved to intercept her before Dustin said or did anything rashly.

     “Let's go, Dustin,” she said steadily. “I
have what I want.”

     “Did you hear him?” Dustin seethed. “His
wife is dead and he cares not a lick.”

     “I heard him,” Deborah was growing nervous,
she was not nearly strong enough to control Dustin if she went into a rage. “I
am tired. Let's go back to the apartments. Please?”

     Dustin started to nod her head when she
caught sight of Lady Isobelle several feet behind the earl. Without a word to
Deborah, she pushed through the shoppers toward the fat woman.

     “Lady Isobelle,” she curtsied quickly. “I
am Lady Dustin de Lohr, I met you and Lady Gabrielle at….”

     Lady Isobelle's eyes fell on Dustin with
alarm, then quickly banked.  “Of course I know you, Lady Dustin,” she said
quietly. “Please; you mustn't….”

     Dustin ignored the woman, bent on finding
out more about her friend's death. “What happened to Lady Gabrielle?” she
asked. “Her husband said she fell down the stairs?”

     Lady Isobelle's cheeks flushed and she kept
glancing nervously at her brother, who happened to be facing away with his back
to her. She took out her handkerchief and fanned her face. “Aye, she fell,” she
stammered. “There was… she was dead before she hit the floor.”

     Dustin’s face went gentle with sympathy. “I
am so sorry, Lady Isobelle. She was a very nice lady and I am sorry she is
dead.”

     Lady Isobelle nodded shortly and whirled
away from Dustin, thrusting herself through the crowd blindly. It seemed to
Dustin that she was desperate to get away from her. Puzzled and saddened, she
turned with Deborah and retreated from the foyer.

     The halls were busy with the inhabitants of
Windsor, walking the halls because they were unable to go outside in the
freezing rain. There were soldiers lining the corridors, all of them
acknowledging her in some way as she passed. It was a very common occurrence
since her husband commanded the troops and she was used to it now, but when it
first started happening, she had been embarrassed at the attention.

     There was a spread of bread, wine and
cheese in the grand dining hall since it was close to the nooning meal. Dustin
and Deborah gathered as much as they could carry and found a cozy window seat
in a deserted corridor to share their meal.

     “Do you think Marcus will return?” Deborah
asked before Dustin had even taken a bite.

     Dustin kept her gaze averted. “'Tis
difficult to say. Chris says he cannot get through to him, whether he means
literally, I do not know. Mayhap Marcus doesn't want to come back.”

     “But why?” Deborah lamented. “Did I say
something to send him away? Was I too forward with my feelings?”

     Dustin glanced up at her sister-in-law,
sweet, faintly pretty, feminine. Marcus would have a good wife in Deborah. “I
do not think you were at all. Mayhap….mayhap he wasn't happy here, or mayhap he
was overly desperate to see his new keep. I simply do not know, Deb….Chris
doesn't know, either.”

     Deborah gazed out of the window, miserably
chewing on a piece of cheese. “He doesn't like me,” she said sadly, then looked
at Dustin. “He likes you, though.”

     Dustin knew her eyes were wide with
surprise. “Why do you say that?”

     Deborah shrugged, picking at her cheese. “I
have heard the gossip, Dustin. 'Tis hard not to. I didn't believe any of it
until I began to see the way he looked at you.” When Dustin shook her head
vigorously, Deborah put up a placating hand. “I know you do not return his
feelings. Christopher had made himself blind to Marcus' desire for you,
probably because he respects the man so much. I suppose as long as Marcus
didn't act on his feelings, Chris would feign ignorance. David hates Marcus for
the dissension he has caused within Christopher's ranks.”

     Dustin's eyes were guarded; she didn't know
what to say. Deborah smiled softly. “How can I blame him for loving you? You
are so beautiful and you do not even know it. I wish I was more like you,
Dustin.”

     Dustin did speak, then. “You are mad. 'Tis
I who am envious of you, Deborah. You are refined and lady-like and elegant,
everything I am not. I could never be like you in a million years. My daughters
will have to learn to be a lady from you, because I certainly cannot teach them
anything but how to ride a horse and how to tend a sick animal.” She touched
her sister-in-law's hand gently. “'Tis you who are beautiful and do not know
it.”

     “Then I will trade you some of my beauty
for some of yours,” Deborah quipped, and Dustin giggled in agreement.

     They were finishing the last of the bread
when they heard footsteps coming down the hall, rapid steps. They glanced up to
see Lady Isobelle bearing down on them, her fat face worried. Dustin stood up.

     “Lady Isobelle!” she greeted in surprise.

     Lady Isobelle put up a hand. “I have no
time, my lady. I have come to tell you a few things, items you must pass on to
your husband.

     Dustin nodded quickly, stunned at the
urgency of the woman. “Of course. What is it?”

     Lady Isobelle glanced around anxiously as
if to make sure they were alone, and Dustin and Deborah found themselves doing
the same. Anxiety settled over them.

     “Lady Gabrielle didn’t fall down the
stairs; the prince fancied her so my brother gave her to him as a gift,” she
whispered quickly. “Sweet Gabrielle is at the mercy of a madman. It is simply
easier to tell everyone that she is dead so he will not have to tell the truth
of what he has done.”

     Dustin’s eyes widened and she gasped in
horror, but Isobelle wasn’t finished. She grasped Dustin by the wrist.

     “Know this; my brother has threatened to
kill me if I so much as look at you,” she said quietly, urgently. “He holds a
great deal of hate for Richard and for your husband, my lady. But the most
important news you must carry to your husband is this: I heard my brother
speaking with other men, men loyal to John, and I heard him say that John is
planning to lay siege to Tickhill before the week is out.”

     Dustin was rather overwhelmed at all of the
news. She swallowed hard, feeling herself being unwantedly sucked into covert
political dealings. “I will tell him, Lady Isobelle, I swear it,” she said.
“But why…why are you telling me this and betraying your brother?”

     “Because my brother is vile and corrupt,
and sweet Gabrielle must be helped,” she said passionately, pulling her cloak
about her tighter. “My brother and his army are riding to John's aid this
night; your husband must be made aware.”

     Dustin could see what a great risk this
woman was taking and she forced herself to swallow her apprehension and put on
a brave front. “I shall go and tell him now. Thank you, Lady Isobelle. Truly
you are very brave.”

     Lady Isobelle nodded shortly and glanced
about her again. Satisfied she hadn't been followed, she swept away from Dustin
and back down the corridor. Dustin took a few steps further into the hall,
watching the rotund woman as she slipped down the way. An intangible darkness
swirled about them, as if they had been made privy to the plans of Lucifer
himself and Dustin felt an unconscious chill run over her.