Rise of the Defender (92 page)

     “But it is dark outside. Where could he
be?” she demanded.

     “Honestly, my lady, I know not,” the
sergeant insisted. “You must be hungry. I shall send someone to fetch dinner
for you.”

     “I am not hungry!” she yelled at him. “I
want to know where my husband is. What were you all talking about out here? We
could hear you all the way inside the chamber.”

     The sergeant shook his head patiently.
“Soldier talk, 'tis all, I swear it,” he replied. “Why do not you return to
your room and I shall have someone bring your meal.”

     Dustin's face was red with fury. “If you
say that one more time, I shall punch you right in the nose. I do not want
food, I want someone to tell me where my husband is. If you do not know, then
find out, for if you do not, I swear I shall jump from the window and go find
him myself.”

     “We are on the second floor, my lady,” the
sergeant reminded her. “You would break your neck at the very least if you
jumped from the window.” He glanced over at the group of new soldiers that had
only moments before arrived with the victorious news. “Do any of you lads know
where de Lohr is?”

     “His knights are with the troops,” one man
replied. “I haven't seen the baron.”

     The other soldiers looked at each other,
nodding in agreement, no one had seen Christopher.

     “With the troops? Why?” Dustin asked the
man firmly.

     “The army is mobilizing, my lady,” the
soldier answered. “An awesome sight to behold, indeed; over one thousand men
and knights.”

    
Mobilizing.
Dustin swallowed hard,
feeling the pit of her stomach twist. Dear Lord, he really
was
leaving
tonight. And she hadn’t seen him all day, and there was no telling when she
would see him again. It was all happening so fast that she could scarce believe
it. Her apprehension and agitation was suddenly overtaken by a fierce desire to
be held by her husband.

     The sergeant put a gentle hand on her. “Go
and rest, my lady. The baron will be here shortly.”

     She didn't even answer him as she turned
and went back into the antechamber. Deborah, her pale blue eyes wide, gazed
back at her with concern.

     “What's wrong, Dustin?” she asked softly.
“You look as if about to cry.”

     Dustin glanced at her. “Oh…..no, I am fine.
But would you mind terribly if I retired? It might be a good idea if we both
get some rest. After all, Chris said we would be leaving tonight and I never
could sleep on a horse.”

     Deborah nodded quickly. “An excellent
suggestion, Dustin. You shall let me know when Chris returns, won't you?”

     “Of course,” Dustin nodded, accepting a
quick kiss on the cheek from her sister-in-law before she quit the antechamber.

     The room suddenly empty, Dustin felt as if
she were in a fog. A day that had started out normally had become the absolute
worst and she was reeling with the rapid events. She sank into the nearest
chair, her mind working itself into muddled confusion. So he was leaving, and
she was returning to Lioncross. When would she see him again? Dear Lord, would
she see him again? He would be fighting against John and his army of
cutthroats, and she was utterly terrified that he would meet his end.

     Dustin covered her face with a hand. Lord,
if they could only retreat to Lioncross and forget about John and Richard and
the whole bloody country. She simply wanted to grow old with her husband and to
hell with the rest of the world. Living the rest of her life without him was
her very worst nightmare, and with the wars that were rapidly approaching, she
had to face the very real possibility.

     One moment she was staring at the fire and
the next, someone was shaking her awake. She startled, nearly falling out of
the chair except for strong hands that held her steady.

     “Careful, sweetheart,” Christopher bent
down and scooped her into his arms. “I shouldn't have awoken you, but the time
to leave is coming upon us and....”

     Instantly alert, Dustin threw her arms
around her husband and peppered his face with kisses. “You are back,” she
managed to say in between kisses. “I was so worried for you. Where have you
been? What's happened?”

     He returned her kisses, capturing her lips
with his own and slowing her urgency considerably. Only when he had suckled and
kissed and licked her quiet did he speak.

     “Are you all packed?” he asked against her
neck. “My men are ready to take your things.”

     She forced his head up. “Where have you
been all this time? What happened to the earl?”

     His soft expression hardened imperceptibly.
“The earl is dead. And I have been with the justices for the past six hours
listening to them debate.”

     “And?” she bade him to continue.

     “And the army does indeed ride tonight to
destroy John,” he said. “You leave tonight as well and return to Lioncross.”

     She forced him to look at her. “Are you
taking me back to Lioncross yourself or are you riding north with the army?”

     His eyes drank her in, memorizing every
feature of her beautiful face and he felt despair of separation filling him.
Never in his life had he faced this situation and he found it overwhelmingly
distressing.

     “I ride with my army, sweet love,” he said
softly. “You and Deborah, along with Leeton and Sir Nicholas and 250
men-at-arms will be returning to Lioncross this night.”

     In spite of the fact that Dustin has
promised herself she would be brave, hot tears instantly filled her eyes.
Before she could say anything, Christopher was kissing them away, lapping at
her cheeks with his tongue and tasting her salt.

     “No tears, Dustin,” his voice was raspy. “I
want to remember you smiling, not crying with sorrow. Please be brave, for me.”

     She tried terribly to stop her tears,
responding to his kisses with kisses of her own. “How much time do we have?”

     “An hour, mayhap less,” he said. “I'd like
to be moving as quickly as possible.”

     She squirmed from his arms, taking his
hands and pulling him in the direction of the bedchamber. He had been thinking
the exact same thought and without a word, followed her into the darkened room.

     They were completely silent as they
fervently removed each other’s garments, such great pain filling them that it
was difficult to put into words. All they could think of was each other,
touching, holding, caressing, tasting. Even as the clothes fell to the floor
and Christopher lifted her onto the bed, the anguish of their impending
separation filled Dustin so that the moment he lay his body atop her, she began
to cry softly.

     He heard her faint sobs and felt his eyes sting
with tears of his own. His mouth tasted of her fully, gorging himself on the
sweetness of her flesh, trying to ignore the salt he tasted from her tears.
There was not an inch of skin that did not go unexplored by his worshipful
mouth and not a limb nor a joint that did not go carefully caressed by his
massive hands. When he did enter her hot, slick body, it was with a gentle and
passionate thrust.

     Dustin wrapped herself around him,
memorizing every stroke, every sensation, every marvelous feeling he created
within her. She was so very, very terrified this would be the last time she
ever felt him.

     Passion overcame her tears for the moment
and she turned into the wanton he loved so well. Not content merely to make
love with him atop her, she pushed him over onto his back so that he could
watch her while she slid up and down on his great shaft. Sobbing
intermittently, she flipped her incredibly mane over so that it covered him
from his neck to his stomach and she watched, upside down, as she made love to him.

     She heard him groan and he grabbed her by
the hair, pulling her onto her back once again and driving his wet organ into
her throbbing body. It was too much for Dustin, she was so aroused that it was
no time before she was pulsing with pleasure, her panting cries answered by his
own grunt of satisfaction, and she heard her name in his throaty cry.

     The musk of the love making mingled in the
cool air as he gathered his wife against him, kissing her hair over and over
again. The warmth of her passion quickly faded and Dustin once again felt
herself being overcome with despair, dissolving into tears as he held her.

     “Oh, Dustin,” she heard him murmur against
her head. “Do not cry, my love. I won't be able to leave you if you cry.”

     “Good,” she sobbed. “I do not want you to
go.”

     He sighed, snuggling down into the
feathered mattress and holding her tightly. “I have to. I do not want to, but I
have to.”

     Sniffling and choking, she looked up at him
and he kissed the end of her tear-streaked nose. “You
do
want to. You
must go and protect your beloved Richard's properties. He matters most to you,
Chris, he always has.”

     He laid his head back on the pillow,
studying her lovely, tear-stained and angry face. “'Tis true, our king has
always been my priority,” he said softly. “But I truly cannot remember when,
indeed, he began running a distant second to you.”

     She sniffled loudly, wiping at the tears on
her neck and eyeing him with a mixture of anger and doubt. “What do you mean
‘second to me?’?”

     His face was soft and thoughtful as he
pushed a stray bit of hair from her face. “Just what I said,” he murmured. “You
are the greatest priority in my life, Dustin. What I do now, I do because it is
my duty and because I am sworn to it. But my heart, my love, is with you. Were
that I had a choice in all of this, I would retire to Lioncross with you and
raise a huge family. No more war, no more king, no more bastard prince.”

     She looked at him, astonishment filling
her. “But...but you are the Defender. You are Richard's chosen and you have
always made it clear that Richard was the most important thing in your life.”

     “I know, and I am sorry,” he said softly.
“At one time, that was true. But no longer. You, Lady de Lohr, are the most
important thing in my life and I love you with every last fiber of my being. I
have known that for some time now, but I have never been fully able to admit
it. It is still difficult to believe.”

     Miraculously, her tears vanished and were
replaced by the most radiant of smiles. “But you already told me you loved me.
I was satisfied with that.”

     He grinned lazily, “I thought I was, too.
But I was wrong. You consume me, lady, and I can think of nothing but you. This
separation that we face is paining me more than you can possibly know.”

     “I know your pain too well,” she said
softly. “It eats at me like a cancer. With every step you take, with every mile
of distance between us, I feel as if my life is slipping further and further
away. I am so scared, Chris, I cannot think straight sometimes. 'Tis all happening
so fast.”

     He continued to stroke her hair, devour her
face. Then, he smiled. “Do you know that for two people who didn't want to be
married, we are acting like a couple of sotted fools. Do you suppose marriage
agrees with us?”

     She smiled broadly. “It does. My mother
would be most pleased, I think. She did so want us to like each other.”

     “Lady Mary would be in her heaven to see
that we have fallen in love with one another,” he agreed, pulling her down to
the soft curve of his shoulder. “And your father, too. On his deathbed, he
asked that I wed you and give you children; that was all. He said I didn't even
have to like you.”

     She felt him chuckle and she made a wry
face. “Marry me and give me children, eh? I am sure my father was in fits
because I was nineteen and not yet wed; not even betrothed.” She ran her hand
over his faintly hairy chest. “But why you, Chris? Of all the men my father
could have chosen, why you?”

     He had wondered that, too, of course. “I do
not know, sweet,” he said with a sigh. “But we really must show our thanks to
your father and his brilliance. Mayhap we will name our firstborn son after
him.”

     “Arthur? Pah!” Dustin's head came up and
she made a face at him. “I do not like that name. Our son will have a strong
name, as I have told you before. His name will be Curtis.”

     “Curtis?” he pretended to greatly
disapprove of the name when, in truth, he had agreed on it once before, months
back. “I do not know. Why cannot we name him after me? Actually, I have always
liked the name Percival.”

     “Percival?” she said in outrage. “No child
of mine will bear the name Percy. Our son will be named Curtis, or I swear I
shall bear you only daughters.”

     He laughed. “Good Christ, you would,
wouldn't you? I'd have a household full of stubborn, willful little wenches
just like their mother and I would surely go mad.”

     She grinned at him. “Ten of them, just like
me. Are you properly frightened now? Will you agree to the name Curtis?”

     He put his hand over his face in defeat.
“Anything, anything if you will spare me that living hell.”