The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “Do you think so?” she suddenly went serious. “Do you think I should have broken his….?”

  He waved her off quickly. “No, no, my lady, simply a jest,” he said. “I believe your punishment fit the crime.”

  “Oh,” she blinked, wondering why she was pleased that he approved of her actions.

  He shook his head at her. “I must say I feel most fortunate that I have not spoken honeyed words or tried to steal a kiss from you,” he teased. “I would probably find myself missing fingers.”

  She lowered her lashes with a faint smirk, paying attention to the cat. She should have agreed with him but could not seem to bring herself to do it. “As it was, you still became acquainted with my fist,” she looked up at him. “And I do apologize for that. I was tired and not thinking clearly.”

  He nodded faintly, his smile fading. Would she bring up Nottingham now, he wondered? Their conversation had been so pleasant he was hoping not. Caesar, tired of the game, jumped off the bed and she stood up, opening the door to let him out. Christopher watched her walk, the sway of her hips and the way her hair moved against her back, thinking how graceful she moved. But the peasant dress she wore, although it fit her voluptuous figure perfectly, was sadly out of place on a woman of such beauty. Dustin deserved silks and jewels, not linen and leather.

  “Your friend, Mistress Rebecca, told me you went to town yesterday to purchase material for new surcoats,” he said. “I will go and retrieve the fabric for you so that you may begin making them.”

  “Rebecca has the material, as she will sew them for me,” Dustin replied.

  “I see,” he nodded, gazing out over the bailey again.

  Dustin eyed him, wondering where that subject came from. Yet it also brought another to mind.

  “My lord,” she began. “About Nottingham. I had hoped to leave today, but obviously I shall not be. I hope that will not create a problem for you.”

  He turned back to her. “Why would it?”

  She shrugged. “I had told you I would be gone, and if you had made plans for my departure, then I apologize for disturbing them.”

  “I made no such plans,” he told her.

  She cleared her throat, nodding, suddenly self-conscious now that the conversation wasn’t flowing. Truth was, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to go to Nottingham anymore. She was beginning to feel at ease with her husband and, as they agreed, they were family. After what he had told her about his own history, she almost felt needed. Yet she knew full well he didn’t need her.

  She cleared her throat again. “To be honest with you, my lord, I am not sure if I wish to go to Nottingham anymore,” she said quickly, hoping he would not be mad that she wanted to stay. “Lioncross is my home, after all. And I have only met my mother’s family once, so I would be living with strangers anyway. At least if I stay at Lioncross, my surroundings are familiar.”

  He nodded slowly, greatly relieved she had made the decision herself to stay. “A wise decision, my lady.”

  She looked at him, studying him. “You are not angry?”

  He stood up. “Why should I be? This is your home, too.”

  “But,” she blinked. “But I will be in your way.”

  “You will?” he asked, puzzled.

  “Aye,” she said quickly, then stopped herself. “What I mean is, won’t I be in your way?”

  “Why would you ask me that?” He was moving slowly toward her, his arms still crossed. “I never said that.

  “Nay, you didn’t, but you called me additional baggage,” she reminded him. “I promise I shall make myself scarce. I won’t bother you.”

  He scratched his head, standing in front of her now. He looked down at her, her honest eyes gazing up at him. He found himself responding to her emotionally. “You could not bother me if you tried, my lady. I consider it a pleasure to have you remain.”

  She smiled with growing happiness. “Truly? You do not mind?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She turned away happily, then suddenly stopped and looked at him. “Will you make me serve you dinner every night?” she demanded warily.

  He grinned. “Nay, you do not have to serve me dinner,” he said. “But I will insist that you sit by my left hand.”

  She smiled back, biting her lip. “I would sit by your left hand, my lord.”

  He nodded, satisfied. The day outside was advancing and he had much to do, although he was reluctant to leave Dustin. He was enjoying this time very much.

  “I do apologize, my lady, but I have pressing duties that I must attend to,” he said.

  She nodded quickly. “I understand, my lord.”

  With a final, perhaps warm, look, he moved for the door. When he opened it, Caesar dashed in and bolted right for the bed. He watched the cat for a moment, noticing that Dustin was cooing to the beast as if it were a baby. Her profile was feminine and lovely, he thought.

  “Though you be my wife, it seems strange to call you my lady,” he remarked, his hand on the door latch. “ ’Tis proper, of course, but every man I ever knew called his wife by her name, or nickname,” he gave a sort of shrug and began to close the door. “‘My lady’ is so formal.”

  “My lord,” she called out after him and he stopped, sticking his head into the room. She was almost smiling. “If….if you were to call me by a nickname, what would it be?”

  He looked thoughtful. “Do you have one already?”

  “Nay,” she replied. “My mother always called me by my name, or dear father always called me Dustin Mary Catherine.”

  He made a face. “Too long,” he said firmly, then looked at her. A small smile played on his lips. “What would you have me call you, should you ever give me permission to do so?”

  He swore she blushed when she looked away and lifted her shoulders a little. “I have no preference, my lord,” she said.

  He smiled and started to close the door again when he heard her make a little sound, and he put his head back into the room again. “What is it?”

  She looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent and shook her head. “Nothing, my lord.”

  The door swung open wide and he filled it with his huge frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I do not believe you. You were going to tell me something.”

  She blushed to the roots of her hair and sat on the bed, not looking at him. He wasn’t going to leave and she was embarrassed, yet at the same time, she felt strangely brave and comfortable with him. “Well,” he had asked, after all. Lord, her mouth was threatening to run over with all sorts of crazy thoughts.

  “I….the night my mother died, you called me by a name. Do you remember it?” she said very softly.

  He came into the room and sat next to her on the bed, their thighs touching. He was so large and warm and she could feel the heat he radiated.

  “I confess, I do not,” he said softly as well. “What was it?”

  She took a deep breath for courage. “You called me ‘sweetheart.’”

  He smiled vaguely. “Is that what you want me to call you? It fits.”

  Very embarrassed at her forward nature, she looked away from him. “I wasn’t saying that I wanted you to call me that, but I remembered that you called me ‘sweetheart’ and well, no one had ever called me that. I have never been called anything at all but my name.”

  He was touched by her honesty, her naiveté. Through all of the screaming and pain that night, she remembered a word of kindness and it had stayed with her.

  “Then I will ask you now,” he said. “May I have your permission to call you ‘sweetheart?’”

  She nodded and he grinned wider, thinking her embarrassment to be charming. “And then, may I also have your permission to call you ‘Dustin?’”

  She nodded and whispered, “Yes.” He dipped his head down so he could see the side of her lowered face. “And may I also have your permission to call you ‘Lady de Lohr?’”

  Her head snapped to him, thinking he was teasing her but seei
ng he was entirely serious. “That is my name, is it not?”

  “Aye, it is, but David said you hated it,” he replied. “If you do not want me to call you that, then I will not.”

  She shrugged, not really giving him an answer and he did not pursue it. Instead, she turned the tables.

  “What may I call you?” she asked.

  They were sitting quite close together, their faces not far from one another. He could smell her roses, and the faint odor of the mint balm he had applied to her. Her skin was flawless.

  “When you feel comfortable enough, you may call me ‘Christopher’ or ‘Chris,’” he said quietly. “Call me whatever you wish, Dustin. I will answer.”

  He saw color creeping back into her cheeks again and she tore her gaze away from him. “Thank you, my lord.”

  With a faint chuckle at her restraint, he rose from the bed and went to the door again. “I will see you at the nooning meal, then,” he said.

  Recovering her badly dissolved composure, she rose as well. “Very well, my lord,” she replied. “By the way, I will be going into the village this morning to see how Rebecca is coming along on my dresses.”

  “Not without an escort, my lady,” he said firmly. “Do not leave before seeking out myself or David. Do I have your word on that?”

  “Aye,” she answered, looking at him. “Will you go with me?”

  “If my schedule allows,” he answered. “Until then, my lady.”

  He closed the door and was gone, leaving her standing in the middle of the room with the most peculiar warm sensation she had ever experienced, a wonderful languid feeling she could not have described if she had tried.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dustin bathed and changed her clothing mid-morning. Neither was necessary, yet she did it anyway. She rationalized that taking the bath was essential because she still stank of the poison Christopher had rubbed on her, but the dress was fairly clean. For some reason, she didn’t want to wear the dress anymore.

  She went across the hall to her mother’s room and rummaged through the big wardrobe, inspecting each dress in turn. Her mother had been a slight, frail thing, and Dustin barely fit into her clothes, but they were very nice clothes and she suddenly felt a need to dress a bit nicer than her usual. Strange, because she had never given much thought to her appearance.

  Even as she selected her mother’s indigo-blue brocade and carried it back across the hall, she didn’t know why she was bothering.

  She needed help putting the dress on, a rare occurrence indeed. The serving wench who tended her grunted and tugged, but finally managed to get the dress secured. Dustin dismissed her and went back across the hall to look at herself in her mother’s mirror; she didn’t even have one in her own room.

  Much to her surprise, the dress didn’t look all that bad. In fact, it accentuated her curves quite nicely and she found herself gazing back at her own reflection, turning back and forth in the light and admiring the fabric. It was a scoop neck, long-sleeved design that flattered her slim waist and full breasts. Her mother used to wear the surcoat with a collar and a wimple, but Dustin always hated to be restricted that way. For her, a corset was about the limit of the severe trappings she would wear, and her mother had even had to plead with her to get her to put it on.

  The matching slippers were far too small, she knew that already. Yet she had a pair of durable black leather slippers that went quite nicely, although she thought she might visit the cobbler and see if he could make her a pair to match the surcoat.

  Back in her room, she brushed her long, straight, silky hair until it gleamed. She had a natural cowlick on the left side of her forehead, right on the hairline, so she always wore her hair parted on the left. Even as long as it was, she wore it free and pulled it over her right shoulder and let it hang like a waterfall, cascading over her breast and falling to her groin.

  Dustin looked down at herself, wondering why on earth she had gone through the trouble to bathe and change and brush and primp. After all, she was simply going into town to see Rebecca, and her friend didn’t care how she looked. With a confused shake of her head, she went to find Sir Christopher, as he requested.

  The day had dawned clear and in actuality, a bit warm. She squinted under the bright sunlight, looking about for the tall, blond man who was her husband. The first person she ran into was Jeffrey.

  “My lady.” he greeted her with a smile.

  She smiled back. “Hello, Jeffrey.”

  “You look very lovely,” he observed. “The dress looks better on you than it did on your mother.”

  “Mother had a great many dresses, although I think most of them are far too small,” she said. “Mother was terribly tiny.”

  Jeffrey nodded in agreement. “God rest her soul, my lady. I apologize for not attending her funeral yesterday, but with most all of the knights seeing to her burial, I could not leave the keep.”

  “I understand,” Dustin said, sad anew at the mention of her mother. “You always were terribly loyal, Jeffrey, and mother knew that. In fact….” She suddenly jumped and her hands flew to her back. “Ouch!”

  “What is it?” Jeffrey asked, concerned.

  She was fumbling with something on her back, twisting awkwardly. “Damnation! A stay has snapped.”

  He turned her around. “Let me see.”

  Christopher rounded the corner with David just in time to see Jeffrey fumbling with the back of Dustin’s dress. Before he realized what he was doing, he charged the big Germanic knight and felled the man with one huge blow to the jaw.

  Jeffrey went sprawling, blood spattering on the dust. Dustin yelped, terrified, as David pulled her clear of the fight. Christopher descended on Jeffrey like God’s wrath, grabbing the man around the top of his armor and hauling him quite effortlessly to his feet for another round.

  “Christopher,” Dustin shrieked. “What are you doing?”

  He paused a brief second. It was the first time he had ever heard her use his Christian name. When he looked at her, she was shocked at the anger she saw.

  “I have a better question,” he shot back. “What was he doing?”

  She was thoroughly perplexed and growing annoyed. “One of my stays broke and he was fixing it. What on earth do you think he was doing?”

  Christopher stopped in mid-rage, suddenly realizing with horror what an ass he had just made of himself. He looked at Jeffrey as if to confirm Dustin’s answer, and the big man simply stared back at him. Then, Jeffrey’s hand came up and he opened his palm, inside was a steel hook.

  “It came off,” he said, spitting out a tooth.

  Christopher let go of him. “Christ,” he muttered, turning away from the man. He had never felt so completely foolish in his entire life.

  Dustin, still confused and concerned, rushed to Jeffrey’s side. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” Jeffrey spit out some more blood, eyeing Christopher.

  Dustin whirled on her husband. “Why did you hit him?”

  Christopher was standing by David, his hand on his forehead. The hand fell to his side as he faced his wife. “The reason no longer exists. Are you ready to go to town?”

  She was angry now. “Then if the reason no longer exists, you will apologize to Jeffrey. ’Twas inexcusable.”

  Christopher met Jeffrey’s eye. “My mistake.”

  Jeffrey lifted an acknowledging eyebrow but Dustin was livid.

  “ ’Tis no apology you gave him,” she accused.

  Christopher gazed down at her evenly. Christ, she looked gorgeous in that dress. “Aye, it is. Now, are you ready to leave? I have time to take you myself.”

  Her cheeks were flushed with fury. “I shall not go with you,” she said. “Jeffrey will take me.”

  Christopher gave her a slow, reptilian blink, glancing at the German. “I think not,” he said quietly. “Come along, my lady.”

  “No,” she exclaimed, moving away from him. “I will not go with a man who strikes for no reason and then refuse
s to apologize. Stay away from me.”

  Christopher didn’t want to create a scene in the middle of the bailey, but if he forced himself on her, then a scene he would have. She was angry and had every right to be. He took a deep, calming breath and crooked his finger at her.

  “Then a word, please,” he said politely.

  She balked for a moment or so, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly until she felt Jeffrey give her a little shove. Momentarily uncertain as to why Jeffrey should support the man who just clobbered him, she found herself stepping in Christopher’s direction.

  He pulled her aside privately, looking down at her stormy face. He sighed. “In the first place, my lady, you will never again use that tone with me,” he said in a low voice. “Secondly, you would not understand why I struck Jeffrey, but suffice it to say that he understands and we will hear no more of it, especially from you.” When she opened her mouth, he put up a warning finger. “And, lastly, I will indeed escort you into the village.”

  She was so furious that she was grinding her teeth. “Then I am not going into town. I am staying here,” she seethed.

  “Aye, you are going into town if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you,” he said with growing irritation.

  Her eyes flashed and she stepped back from him, gathering her skirts. “If you touch me, you shall regret it.” With that, she spun on her heel and raced into the castle as fast as her legs would take her.

  Christopher charged after her, leaving David and Jeffrey standing in his wake. David shifted on his big legs casually, crossing his arms.

  “Is she always like this?” he asked.

  Jeffrey nodded. “Always. Should we follow?”

  “Why? He won’t lay a hand on her,” David looked at him.

  Jeffrey shook his head. “Not to protect her. To protect him.”

  David smiled. Then, he laughed. “Come on, frank. Let’s go take care of that mouth.”

  Jeffrey let David lead him away, not at all annoyed by the fact that he was now missing a tooth. It had been worth it to confirm what he had speculated, that Christopher was indeed concerned for his new wife, as much as he tried to pretend otherwise.