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 thi
ck 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.
“There is a bad storm blowing in,” Jeffrey said. “You can see it blowing in over the mountains. Big, black clouds. We’ll have snow tonight.”
Christopher snorted softly. “We’ve not had snow all season,” he said. “What makes you think it will happen tonight?”
Jeffrey cocked an eyebrow. “Because I have lived on the Marches a long time and I know when it is going to snow. Do you doubt me?”
Christopher shook his head. “Nay,” he said. Then, he turned and pointed to the children playing in front of the hearth. “Do you see all of those children? The second the snow starts down, they are going to want to play in it, so you had better be right. As much as I love my children and nieces and nephews, I am ready for some peace and quiet, at least for a little while. It will be up to you to provide this for me when the snowfall starts.”
Jeffrey smirked, watching as Curtis and Richard, becoming a little more animated now that they were back home again, began to roll around on the ground with their little brother, Myles, whom they’d not seen in some time. Their cousins, Colleen and Christina and Caroline, had picked up some of the fresh rushes and were beating the boys with the branches. Screams and laughter were going up all around.
“I see your point,” Jeffrey said. “At the first sign of snow, I will announce it to the children.”
“And watch out for the stampede.”
Jeffrey continued to smirk as he turned around and headed for the door. David, still carrying Daniel, came over to Christopher and Marcus.
“What did Kessler have to say?” he asked.
“Snow,” Christopher said. “He thinks a storm is rolling in.”
“Christ,” David said, looking between Christopher and Marcus. “That’s all I need – to be snowbound with you two.”
“There were times when we were bound together without the benefit of snow,” Marcus said. “I can remember hiding out in The Levant in Montfort Castle, bombarded by a sandstorm that lasted a week.”
David nodded as he reflected back on the better times between the trio. “That was… uncomfortable,” he said. “I was still washing sand out of my arse a year later.”
Marcus snorted. “I cannot even look at sand the same way,” he said. “Every time I see it, I start itching.”
The baby in David’s arms started to fuss, alerting his wife, Emilie. She was seated with Dustin and Gabrielle, but the moment her son whimpered, she immediately left her seat to collect him. As David tried to soothe the fussy child, Emilie held out her arms for him.
“He is hungry,” she said. “Let me take him.”
David frowned. “I was hardly permitted to hold him the entire journey here,” he said. “Just a few more moments.”
Emilie pursed her lips. “So you would starve your son simply to be selfish?”
The baby’s whimpering grew louder because his mother was there, so David gave up without much more of a fight. “Here,” he said, disgruntled as he handed the child over. “You are a mean, nasty woman.”
Emilie took the baby. “Not to worry,” she said. “I will bring him back to you when he is fed and then when he soils himself, you can have full charge of cleaning him up.”
Listening to the pair bicker, Christopher started to laugh. “That’s all you are good for,” he said to his brother. “Cleaning up your son’s shite.”
Marcus burst into laughter and, together, the two of them ribbed David. That didn’t normally go over very well because David’s temper was short. He was about to lay some heavy insults on his brother when the entry door opened again and a hint of icy wind blew in behind two men entering.
Sir Max de Velt from Marcus’ castle of Somerhill, broad and muscular and dark, was dressed in heavy tunics and a cloak against the cold weather. Next to him, a very tall, blond young man was equally covered in wool against the climate.
Peter de Lohr had made an appearance.
At eighteen years, Peter was on the verge of being a full-fledged knight for one very good reason – he had the talent, the build, the strength, and the temperament to make the perfect knight. He was as tall as his father at nearly six inches over six feet and had the same muscular de Lohr build. He looked a good deal like his father in almost every way except he had his mother’s brown eyes. He even had Christopher’s beard, which was growing in quite nicely on his fair face.
He smiled at his father, whom he had not yet greeted upon arrival, but his focus was on Marcus, as his liege.
“The troops are secured for the night, my lord,” he said to Marcus. “Because of Canterbury’s troops also being here, I’ve bedded down some of the men in the stable block. There is not enough room in the troop house. The stable is warm enough, even if they are sleeping with the horses.”
“Excellent,” Marcus said. “You may now greet your father.”
Peter turned to Christopher, a smile of pure delight on his face. “Greetings, Pa,” he said quietly. “You are looking very well.”
Christopher did what he told Dustin not to do; he hugged his son. He was so bloody proud of the boy that he simply couldn’t help himself.
“As are you,” he said. “Marcus must be doing something right by you. I have heard nothing but good things.”
Peter had something neither his father nor uncle had; modesty. He nodded his head, humbled. “I hope so,” he said. “It has been difficult, but worth it.”
Marcus snorted. “He breezes through every task as if it is nothing,” he said. “Honestly, Chris, I will not be able to hold him at Somerhill. He needs to go to London and serve William Marshal or the king, at the very least. He’s young, but he has the stamp of greatness on him that we never had.”
Christopher smiled warmly at his son. “What is your wish, Peter?” he asked. “Where do you wish to serve?”
Peter looked between Marcus and Christopher. “Where would you like me to serve, Pa?”
Christopher shrugged. “I am selfish,” he said. “Of course. I want you here at Lioncross and, given that you have been with Marcus for the past seven years, I am sure he wants you at Somerhill. But this will be your choice, Peter. It is my Christmas gift to you – you may choose where you wish to serve. If it is with me, or Marcus, or even your Uncle David – wherever you wish to serve is your choice.”
Peter smiled again, but it was an uncomfortable one because he knew his choice would offend two out of the three men his father mentioned. It might even offend all three of them. But he simply nodded his head gratefully.
“Thank you, Pa,” he said. “Now, may I see Dustin and the rest of the family?”
“Of course,” Christopher said. “Dustin is most anxious to see you.”
Peter excused himself, pushing through the group. Christopher watched as Dustin practically smothered the young man in hugs, prompting Curtis and Richard and Myles to rush him. The older boys were far more relaxed now and showing affection openly, as if they’d never been away. Christin and Brielle, who were older and far more dignified, nonetheless hugged their oldest brother.
Christopher watched with great satisfaction.
“I cannot remember the last time my entire family was under the same roof,” he said. “It is a rare time.”
“Then go be with
them,” David said. “There will be time to talk later, after the children have gone to bed.”
That was true, so everyone separated at that point. Christopher joined his wife and children, sitting next to Dustin on the bench and listening to Curtis and Richard tell stories of life at Canterbury Castle. As Christopher listened, he got a much better idea of just how well-treated the boys were, far more like family and far less like pages.
He sighed.
There was no avoiding the inevitable.
David and Emilie joined them, their girls crowding in with Christin and Brielle, blending in and becoming one big family. Emilie held the sleeping Daniel and, soon enough, she and Dustin departed with the babies to put them to bed, leaving Christopher and David in charge of the children.
With Gabrielle the only adult feminine influence in the room at that point, Christopher, David, and Marcus lined their boys up into two opposing lines and gave them pieces of rushes as weapons. It became war games on Christmas Eve, with both boys and girls participating. At one point, Christopher put all of the children on one line while he, Marcus, David, and Peter formed the other. It turned into a dog pile when the men went to their knees and the children pounced, and it was all great fun for the boys to drag the men to the ground.
Coming in to view this spectacle was Deborah de Lohr and her husband, Gowen. They brought their two young daughters who, seeing Uncles Christopher and David on the ground being piled on, squealed and ran into the melee. While Gowen stood there and grinned, Deborah made her way over to Gabrielle, who was sitting with her toddler son and Christin and Brielle. Deborah, the younger sister to Christopher and David, pointed to the brawl.
“What is this?” she asked Gabrielle with mock outrage. “A battle on Christmas Eve?”
Gabrielle was smiling. “I think the men were bored,” she said. “Besides, they think of nothing but battle, anyway. They are getting in some practice.”
Deborah had to laugh. “Where is Dustin?”
A Very Medieval Christmas: A Medieval Romance Novella Bundle Page 23
