The girls curtsied prettily for their Uncle Christopher. Christina, Colleen and Caroline were polite, sweet girls with their mother’s disposition and their father’s spirit. And they always, always chattered, driving David to the brink of madness. Yet at this moment, they were uncharacteristically quiet. They knew their Uncle Christopher to be an important man and he always struck awe into their little hearts every time they met, although he had been nothing but kind and gentle with them. Somehow, his presence enough was imposing.
“Christin, Brielle, take your cousins inside,” he instructed his daughters. “Show them where they are to sleep.” Giggling, Christin and Brielle eagerly took hold of their cousins and whisked them up the stairs. Christopher watched the girls with pride, never thinking that one day his children and David’s would be walking hand-in-hand.
“Where is your son, my lady?” he asked Emilie.
“In the wagon with his nurse,” she replied. “At six months, he weighs eighteen pounds. David is most pleased.”
“No doubt,” Christopher remarked. “’Tis about time he gave you a son. There are too many women at Canterbury.”
Emilie raised her brows in feigned outrage. “And what about Lioncross? You have three daughters of your own, sire, in addition to your wife, your sister, and her two daughters.”
Christopher waved at her. “Rebecca is only three months old, but already her temperament is as mine. She is a calm, even-tempered baby of which I am greatly pleased. Christin and Brielle are too much like their mother and I fear I am losing control over them already,” he shifted his grip on Myles. “As for Deborah’s daughters, they are angels. My daughters could learn lessons on obedience from them.”
Emilie laughed, seeking out Dustin. “Is this true?”
Dustin shrugged and gave Emilie a hug. “He thinks any woman who speaks her mind and has half a wit is disobedient. Now, where is your new son? I am anxious to see him.”
“David is probably retrieving him himself.” Emilie glanced back to the huge caravan disassembling in the bailey. “He cannot stay away from Daniel.”
Dustin nodded in agreement, her gaze falling on her two sons standing a few feet behind Emilie. Emilie, for her part, made up a discreet excuse and left the family alone.
“Hello,” Dustin greeted her sons, repressing a huge urge to gather them against her. Curtis de Lohr and his brother, Richard, displayed a very practiced bow.
“Hello, Mother,” Curtis said formally.
Dustin’s heart sank. They were so grown up, so stiff with her, that she felt tears sting her eyes. Christopher put Myles down and approached his sons.
“Gentlemen,” he put his hands on his hips. “How has the baron been treating you? Well, I hope?”
“Well, Father,” Curtis said evenly. “We eat at his table every night and sleep in our own bedchamber.”
Christopher’s eyes narrowed. This was exactly what he did not want. “Then you do not sleep with the other pages?”
“Nay, Father,” Curtis shook his head. “Richie…uh, Richard and I have our own room.
“Hmm, I see,” Christopher said, his voice low.
Dustin looked at her husband and could see his displeasure. She, however, was quite happy that her boys were being treated like one of the family.
“I am so glad you have returned,” she said quickly. “You have a new sister. Would you like to go and see her?”
They boys nodded eagerly and she bade them go into the castle. She was still smiling when she turned to face her stern husband. Immediately, her look became impatient.
“Now, what’s wrong with you?” she demanded.
He raised an eyebrow at her tone. “That is between David and me.”
“It is not,” she said. “They are my sons, too. I would know what you are planning to tell your brother about their treatment.”
He looked at her a moment. “They will never learn to become proper pages or squires if they are being coddled, Dustin. I was most specific to David in that regard.”
“They are not being coddled.” she insisted. “Since when is kindness considered coddling? They are still little boys, for heaven’s sake. Why must they be treated like men?”
“You do not understand, Dustin,” he said, gazing off across the bailey and seeing his brother approach. “I would speak to David alone.”
“Can the man at least wash the dust from his tongue before you lay into him?” Dustin asked annoyed.
“Leave us,” Christopher told her, annoyed as well.
She looked at him a moment, his strong profile, his most beautiful blond hair with streaks of gray. “Do not talk to me like that. I am not a wench to be dismissed at your whim.”
He looked at her. “Nay, you are a countess expected to obey her husband,” he said. “Leave us, please.”
She raised her eyebrow, seeing a way around all of this. Immediately, she went to him and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly. He returned her kiss, the sweetness of it filling him as it always had. She pulled back and smiled at him through smoky eyes, pleased to see him reacting.
“You still cannot stay,” he whispered huskily.
She slapped him playfully and he laughed low. She turned on her heel in a defiant blur of blond hair and fabric, marching away from him, but not before he planted a plate-sized hand on her behind. She yelped and rubbed the assaulted area, but it was all in fun and she fought off a grin even as she continued on her way.
David came up on his brother and did not even afford him the opportunity to speak. “I know what you are going to say.” he exclaimed. “I know that look on your face and I do not like it. Your sons have not been treated any differently than the other pages.”
Christopher put his hands on his hips. “Then why did they tell me they take meals with you and sleep in their own bedchamber?”
“Because they do.” he snapped, although it was not in anger. “Emilie insisted until they are a year older. She says that they are still babies and….”
“Good Christ, David,” Christopher muttered, putting a hand over his face. “She sounds like Dustin. And you allow this?”
“Tell me, Brother, when my own son comes to foster here at age six or seven, will you tell Dustin that he cannot eat at the table with the rest of the family?” David shot back, crossing his arms expectantly. “Will you? The first time Dustin catches a glimpse of my little boy eating his supper from his lap in the corner, she will come apart at the seams. Trust me, for I have witnessed it and you, too, will be unable to deny her.”
Christopher glared at his brother, not unfriendly, before shaking his head in defeat. “Then I send them to Somerhill. I cannot risk their training due to family ties.”
“Oh, hell, you know Gabrielle will treat them the same way. Thank God she has not ruined Peter,” David insisted. “And Marcus will go along with her in everything. Nay, they are better off with me.”
“They are not,” Christopher snapped, agitated on his sons’ behalf. “Then I send them to Edward. He will train them to be proper pages.”
“You mean the new Earl of Wolverhampton?” David said tauntingly. “Jesus, he has been so involved in John’s court, he will not have the time to train the boys.”
“Ah, but he has Max with him and Max is as fine a trainer as ever lived, as you well know.” Christopher was suddenly relieved and satisfied with his own rapid decision. “Come the New Year, I send Curtis and Richard to Wolverhampton. I might take them there myself.”
“You have seen quite a bit of him, haven’t you?” David remarked.
Christopher nodded, clapping his brother on the shoulder as they moved for the castle. He truly was glad to see the man. “We have been working on a charter for John’s signature,” he said. “The majority of earls and feudal barons have come together in the matter. Despite any disagreements or hatred, we all seem to have a common bond – we hate John.”
“What kind of a charter?” David asked.
Christopher waved his hand c
arelessly, he did not want to get into the specifics out here in the open, but later when there was more time to talk. “We call it the Magna Carta. Sean de Lara has drafted most of it. You remember Sean, do you not?
David nodded. “The Shadow Lord? Of course. After he left your service, he went to serve John, or so we thought. I still find it difficult to believe he was a spy for William Marshal. Who would have known?”
Christopher wriggled his eyebrows. “Not me,” he replied. “Like you, we were all convinced he was John’s strongest supporter. The man was brilliant in his cover. But I shall tell you more about it later.”
David nodded, not really caring. He had never involved himself much in politics or scholarly pursuits. He left those things up to his brother, the Earl of Hereford and Worcester.
“I hear your new son is doing well.” Christopher changed the subject. Talking about John was painful for him. “Emilie was near to bursting to tell us of him.”
David swelled with pride and Christopher smiled broadly at his brother. After three girls, this little boy was his pride and joy. “He’s incredible, Chris. Biggest damned baby I ever saw, and smart. He’s trying to sit up already.”
“Wait, little brother, you forget how large Curtis was when he was born,” Christopher reminded him, just to pop his bubble a bit. “He was so big we almost lost him and his mother.”
Easily the most painful and frightening time of Christopher’s life, but he could speak of it now without shuddering. David remembered well the panic and the grief. “Aye, he was as fat as a pig. But Daniel is bigger, see him and tell me if you do not agree.”
Christopher looked at him dubiously. “I will judge for myself,” he said as they mounted the steps to the keep. The winter sun overhead was bright but offered no heat, only illuminating the countryside brilliantly. Remarkably, there was no snow.
“By the way, Marcus and Gabrielle are joining us for the Christmas feast,” Christopher said. “They are bringing Peter and should be here by tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” David said. “I haven’t seen Marcus in a year. How are he and his wife faring?”
“Well, he says,” Christopher replied. What happened eleven years ago was a faded memory in his mind, another chapter in his life, and he had forgiven Marcus a long time ago. They were still, as always, the best of friends, and David went on as if nothing had ever happened. The human character was forgiving that way. “He and Gabrielle are bringing the twins and their young son.”
David grinned, scratching at his head as he surveyed the dismantling of his caravan. Christopher crossed his arms, passing a gaze over the workings, as well.
“And Peter; Jesus, he’s going to outshine us all, isn’t he?” David said. “Marcus swears he has never seen the likes of him.”
Christopher nodded faintly. “’Tis only right that he be greater than his father. Curtis, Richard, and Myles will be just like him. They will all outshine the sun.”
“And Daniel,” David reminded him. “Between us, we have five sons. A grand enough dynasty for the de Lohr name.”
“Indeed,” Christopher agreed.
“Who knew, Chris,” David murmured after a moment.
Christopher glanced at him. “What?”
David was still smiling. “Who knew we would end up like this? Married, with children, lord of our own keeps. Who in the hell knew?”
Christopher shrugged. The very same idea constantly amazed him. “Sometimes, I wonder if I shall awaken from this dream, cold and tired and old and alone. I never thought to achieve this heaven.”
“Nor did I,” David admitted fully. “Richard only lived to see our eldest children. I wonder what he would say to all of this.”
Christopher gazed at brother, his friend. “He would say that we have reached paradise.”
Dustin appeared in the doorway, her beautiful face with nary a line in it in spite of her thirty-four years and her body still voluptuous and supple even after birthing six children.
“Are you going to stand out here all day?” she asked as she wanted to know. “I have got a house full of children and dogs and I demand you come in here and control them.” Then she eyed David with mock anger. “As for you, Baron. You have turned my sweet sons into miniature soldiers.”
David made a helpless gesture. Christopher smiled at his wife and she blew a kiss in his general direction before retreating into the castle. “And that, dear brother, is my very private paradise,” he said softly.
David watched his massive brother lumber into the keep, pausing a moment before following him. He never thought he would see the day when Christopher de Lohr would be content with his life.
The greatest warrior who ever lived, an earl for nine years, mayhap the mightiest earl in the realm. Certainly the most feared. People still called him Defender, although the title was empty. Men still referred to him as the Lion’s Claw, even though they had passed into a new century and on to a new king. But the man’s reputation stayed with him, drawing respect from every corner of the civilized world. They knew this man, this Defender.
But the Defender cared naught for the admiration. His life as a warrior was passed. The life as a husband and father was more demanding than he ever imagined, and far more satisfying. This man, this Defender, who had struggled with war and deception and betrayal to persevere and overcome, this man who would pass into legend for his skill, when it was his generosity and forgiveness that was indeed legendary.
The beating heart of the de Lohr dynasty.
CHAPTER ONE
A PRECIOUS TIME
Later that Night
It was bedlam in the great hall of Lioncross.
So many children running and playing. Mothers trying to have a conversation between tending yelling children and screaming babies. And Christopher, David, and Marcus right in the middle of it.
Paradise wasn’t looking so heavenly anymore.
For Christopher, it was even worse. It was the realization that what his wife said was absolutely correct – his brother had turned his sons into little soldiers. They were quite formal with him. Worse still, they were not formal with David or Emilie.
In fact, as David held Daniel, Curtis and Richard were making faces at the baby and laughing when the baby laughed, having a fabulous time while over near the hearth, Dustin was holding baby Rebecca and the boys showed absolutely no interest in her.
He couldn’t even look at his wife, fearful he’d see the hurt in her eyes.
“Quite a brood, eh?”
Broken from his train of thought, Christopher turned to see Marcus standing next to him holding two cups of steaming wine. He handed one to Christopher.
“Who would have thought, Chris,” Marcus murmured.
Christopher looked at him, seeing that he was gesturing out over the room. He meant the children, their lives in general. This was a season for rejoicing in such things. Christopher sipped his hot wine before answering.
“David was just saying the same thing,” he said. “Back when we returned from The Levant, I would have never imagined my life to end up as it has.”
Marcus shook his head. “Nor I,” he said, looking to his long-legged, elegant wife. But his gaze inevitably turned to Dustin, as it so often did when he was in the same room with her. The years had not changed his reaction when it came to her, but he’d learned to be far more subtle with it. Quickly, he looked back to his wine. “Dustin looks well after the birth of your daughter.”
Christopher nodded, looking to his wife and the baby who, surprisingly, was born with red hair when no one else in the family had it. “It’s the male children she seems to have trouble with,” he said. “Curtis, Richard, and Myles all gave her quite a time, but she seems to have no issue with the girls. They just appear, as if it was nothing at all.”
Marcus sipped at his wine. “Mayhap because they are smaller babies,” he said. “Your sons were quite large, as I recall.”
Christopher simply nodded. It was a conversation that didn’t mean a
thing, words to pass the time. Sometimes they spoke about deeper things, sometimes not, but they were not at the level they had been back before the event of Dustin Barringdon de Lohr.
Things had forever changed between them.
Christopher knew that and it broke his heart. Everything that had happened with Marcus and Dustin, and the fact that a man who was closer than a brother had lusted after his wife, had affected their friendship even now, years afterward. Marcus was still a strong ally and would kill or die for Christopher, but something had been missing ever since Christopher, who had been declared dead in the battle at Tickhill, had come back to life and taken Dustin away from Marcus.
It was a time Christopher didn’t like to think of.
So very much had changed.
Things were still different with David and Marcus as well. There wasn’t the open hostility from David to Marcus as there had been for years; that had died down somewhat. They were at least able to speak to each other and be in the same room with one another without trying to kill each other. But even now, David stayed away from Marcus as he played with his son. Whether by design or unintentional was unknown, but Christopher felt it.
In truth, that’s why he’d invited David and Marcus to Lioncross Abbey for Christmas this year. He was hoping that the holiday spirit might ease years of discord between men who had been as thick as thieves in The Levant. No matter what Marcus had done, Christopher still remembered that comrade he had lived with and killed with. They’d suffered horrible hardships but, together, they’d pulled each other through. That was the strength of their bond and Christopher didn’t want to lose that.
He wanted the old Marcus back.
The entry to the keep slapped back on its hinges, spilling forth the captain of Lioncross’ troops, Sir Jeffrey Kessler. The big German had served Dustin’s father before Christopher had married her, when Lioncross Abbey Castle was a Barringdon property, and had remained to serve at Lioncross even with a new lord and master. There had been some bumps with him, a proud and stubborn man, but he had become a valuable part of Lioncross. As he approached, Christopher and Marcus turned to him.
A Blessed de Lohr Christmas (de Lohr Dynasty Book 9) Page 2
