Dustin just beat Christopher into her rooms. She had heard his footfalls close behind her and she was furious and frightened at the same time. But when she entered her rooms and he was right on her heel, she found she was terrified and she ran to the other end of the room, grabbing the first thing she could find. Whirling around, she threw a pretty glass goblet at the doorway just as Christopher entered. He ducked swiftly and the glass shattered on the doorjamb above him.
“Get out!” Dustin screamed, hurling another glass.
The second one shattered on the wall a foot to the left of him and he scowled. “Stop that.”
“Go!” she yelled angrily, throwing another goblet and watching it break on the wall above the door.
“Dustin, stop that at once,” he said sternly, coming into the room.
She picked up her pewter decanter, half-full of wine, and threw it at him. He turned slightly, catching it in the armor and it exploded, coating him and his mail with wine. He frowned verily.
“Dustin, cease this instant before you do any damage,” he ordered.
She was out of ammunition and, with a shriek, ran to the table beside her bed and picked up her hairbrush. The heavy wooden brush went sailing through the air and he deftly dodged it, glaring at her.
“You are going to be sorry,” he warned her.
He began to remove his armor, letting it crash to the floor. Dustin, furious and panicked, threw her polished metal hand mirror and ivory clip at him for good measure as he stripped off his hauberk, the mirror catching him in the shoulder.
When he was down to his shin armor, his breeches and his heavy linen tunic, he started advancing on her again. She yelped angrily, jumping up on her bed and grabbing her candleholder for good measure, flinging it at him even as he lunged for her. The metal holder caught him in the cheek, near his ear, and immediately drew blood. His irritation fed, he managed to grab her skirt before she could hop off the end of the bed and tugged hard, pulling her back at him.
Dustin knew he had her and she was as mad as a cat in a snare. When he yanked her back, she balled up her fists and took a good swing at him, but he ducked it, throwing his shoulder into her abdomen and managing to slam her down onto the bed. She twisted and struggled, but it was futile, he had her pinned down with his own massive body and her wrists were captured above her head with both of his hands.
She stopped fighting him, breathing heavily as they glared at each other. Purely symbolic, she twisted a few more times before relenting fully to his superior strength and size.
He scowled down at her, eye to eye, fully aware of her heaving breasts against his sculpted chest. Christ, he had been angry when he had thrown himself on top of her. But now still angry, yet he could feel the long-dormant flames of desire beginning to stir in him, as well. Flushed as she was, she was incredibly beautiful and tempting.
“No more of that,” he growled.
She twisted again, her pretty mouth in an angry frown. “Let me go!”
He could match her anger and exceed it. “Not until you regain your senses. I do not appreciate having items thrown at me, lady.”
She tensed up underneath him and tried to bring her knee up to his groin. He was fast, moving to cover her completely with his huge frame and trapping her legs against the mattress. He raised a disapproving eyebrow at her attempt.
“That,” he said quietly, “would not have been wise. I should like to have a son someday, and I will not have you jeopardizing my bloodlines.”
She met his gaze with such fury that he was surprised by it. Unable to look at him any longer because she was completely helpless trapped underneath him, she turned her head away. He continued to study her beautiful face at close range.
“Good,” he said. “Now that you are calming, you will hear me. I will not tolerate a disobedient wife, Lady Dustin. I understand that your mother let you run amuck and do whatever you pleased without anyone to answer to, but those days are gone. You will answer to me now, and you will be respectful and compliant at all times, especially in public. Am I making myself clear?”
She was glaring off across the room, trying to ignore him, and his hands tightened on her wrists. “Is that clear?”
She let out a strangled yelp and snapped her head back to look at him. He could not have been more than an inch above her and she suddenly felt her insides quiver strangely. The anger she had felt not a split second before was turning into something so warm and peculiar it was nearly painful in her chest, and her palms began to sweat. The longer she gazed into his sky-blue eyes, the stronger the feeling became.
“I….I understand, my lord,” she managed to choke out.
His eyes were riveted to her, her lips, her pert nose, and her wide gray eyes. He almost forgot his line of thought and struggled to retain it, knowing he had to make himself understood or the lesson and the struggle, would be lost.
“Well and good for you,” he answered after a moment. “There will be no more yelling and no more displays of temper in front of our vassals. You will never question me, nor will you countermand any order I give. Understood?”
She was losing all feeling in her arms as they gazed steadily at each other. Now that the flash of fire had abated, it was being replaced by something soft and warm and fluid. She had felt it before when he had massaged her shoulders and the sensation was now back again, stronger than before. She kept forgetting to breathe and her mouth went dry, forcing her to lick her lips more than once.
The gesture did not go unnoticed and Christopher was dangerously close to plunging over the erotic abyss. He could not remember ever wanting to kiss a woman as badly, as disobedient and willful and stubborn as she was.
“I told you that I understood, my lord,” she replied softly, the fire gone from her tone. “I am not daft.”
She was so sweet and soft and warm beneath him that he found himself fighting the urge to run his hands all over her body. Christ, he had to get out of there or he might end up doing something they both regretted. He would not force her, nor would he broach the subject of consummating their marriage. It was a firm vow of his because he knew that if he made any sort of advances, she would most likely respond to him as she had to all of the others and their marriage and relationship would be badly damaged.
She had made it very clear she hated slobbery fools with honeyed words, and he would not act like a stallion to rut even if he did think she was the most desirable woman he had ever met. Nay, he had too much pride to pursue her. If she wanted to establish affection in this marriage, then she would have to initiate it.
Christopher pushed himself off her, leaving her weak and shaken as he moved for the door. Dustin sat up unsteadily, her hair askew as she turned to watch him go.
“And another thing, my lady,” he said as he opened the door. “You will cease to wear these ill-fitting dresses. They are too tight and most indecent.”
She looked down at the indigo-blue surcoat. “This was my mother’s surcoat.”
“I do not care whose surcoats they are, you will not wear them anymore,” he said sternly. “And that goes for those filthy little peasant dresses you seem to favor, as well.”
Dustin’s anger rose again as she stood up. “They are perfectly good surcoats. And they are not too tight.”
He frowned. “If they are not too tight, then explain the broken stay? I will go and retrieve those dresses from Mistress Rebecca today, and buy material for several more. You will be well-clothed from now on.”
Her lip twitched furiously. “My clothes are clean and wearable. I will wear what I please, and I don’t need you to dictate to me what is or what is not proper attire.”
He sighed heavily, coming out a growl. “I see that you did not, in fact, understand one word I said.”
“I did,” she spat. “But you said I was to control myself in public. You never said anything about when we were in private. And I will indeed yell at you when you make such ridiculous, insulting statements.”
He jaw twit
ched. “Behave yourself, wife, or you shall find yourself over my knee.”
“Ha!” she exclaimed. “You wouldn’t dare!” As if to prove that she did not fear him in the least, she collected another candleholder from beside her bed and hurled it at him with all her might. It missed, but barely.
Christopher closed the door and bolted it, crossing the room to his enraged wife, who now realized the foolishness of her actions and decided that running from him might be her only chance to preserve her buttocks.
As fast as she was, he was faster, and she could scarce believe when he actually sat on the bed and threw her over his knees as if she were no more than a small child. She kicked and yelled as he tossed her skirts aside and brought his gigantic palm to bear on her soft, white bottom.
Stunned as she was, it bloody well hurt and her last coherent thought before she began to scream for mercy was that the man was true to his word.
*
Christopher met David and Edward in the bailey. The two men were on horseback, their arms laden with several packages. Christopher stood with his hands on his hips, watching them hand the bundles down to several waiting serving women.
“Did you have any trouble finding the rest?” he asked his brother.
David raised the visor of his helmet, his handsome face annoyed. “Nay, but so help me, Chris, I will never go shopping for your wife again. Do you know how humiliating it was for Edward and I to purchase bolts of fine, feminine material and stockings?”
Christopher fought off a chuckle. “Humility is a fine quality in a knight,” he said sternly. “I hope you selected pleasing colors and patterns?”
David rolled his eyes. “Aye, we did, we did. You want we should wear them for your approval?”
“Mayhap later.” Christopher waved him off. “Get down off that horse. ’Tis time for the nooning meal and I had the cook hold it until your return. I am famished.”
Edward and David dismounted, removing their gauntlets as their animals were led away.
“Lady Dustin’s friend, Rebecca, will be up later to start on the other dresses you ordered,” David told his brother as they walked to the steps of the castle. “She stayed up all last night to finish the three dresses we brought.”
“I will pay her well,” Christopher replied.
The great hall smelled wonderfully of roast venison and baked spiced apples. Huge loaves of bread and bowls of butter and honey were already on the tables and the knights sat, along with several senior soldiers and officers, pouring themselves wine and talking loudly.
A serving wench approached Christopher timidly, giving him a quick bob before whispering something to him. He nodded faintly and set his goblet down.
“Where are you going?” David demanded.
Christopher glanced up to the second floor landing of the stairs. “To retrieve my wife,” he stood up. “I shall be back. Commence with the meal.”
Dustin’s door was open and he found her standing by the window, holding Caesar and gazing across the bailey.
“Why aren’t you going to eat?” he asked her.
She didn’t look at him. “I am not hungry, my lord.”
He sighed, knowing she was still smarting from the licking he had given her earlier and knowing full well she was angry with him. To get angry with her would only inflame the situation, so he tried another approach.
“Please, Dustin,” he said softly. “Will you please come and eat with me?”
She looked at him, then. “I cannot sit down.”
He repressed the urge to grin. “That is your own fault. Mayhap if we bring a pillow for you to sit on?”
She shook her head. “I will not embarrass myself in such a fashion.”
He thought a moment. “Then I will eat up here with you.”
Before Dustin could protest, he was giving orders to two serving wenches and within minutes, the nooning meal was indeed brought up to her rooms and nicely displayed on her small cherrywood table. Christopher indicated a chair for her.
“My lady?” he said respectfully.
She eyed him a moment before setting down Caesar and moving for the chair. Yet she avoided the chair and reached down to her trencher, picking up a chunk of brown bread.
He watched her as she stood, eating. “Are you really that sore that you cannot sit and enjoy your meal?”
She glared at him. “Aye, I am. Your hand is big and you are strong and you hurt me.”
He sat down, busying himself with his food. “Had you not been so disobedient, I would not have had to teach you a lesson.”
“And what lesson is that? That you are stronger and bigger, and you can hurt me anytime you so choose?” she shot back.
He took a slow, deep breath and looked pointedly at her. “Nay, my lady. The lesson learned is that you will obey me at all times, and be respectful.”
She pouted angrily and turned away, chewing on her bread. She didn’t know quite how to respond to him, because in faith, she knew she had pushed him over the edge and what he had done was quite within his legal right. He could have done far worse. As it was, she only had a bruised bottom and nothing else.
Dustin was not daft, she knew that her mother had indeed let her have the run of the house the entire time her father was gone and she had gotten used to having her way in everything. No one would dare respond to her temper. But it was painfully evident that her new husband would not tolerate her willful nature or stubbornness. She sighed, thinking how they had come to this point this day. It had all started with Christopher slugging Jeffrey cock-eyed and she had gotten angry. Then the whole situation had blown itself way out of proportion because he wouldn’t do what she wanted him to do, and that was tell her why he had struck Jeffrey.
She could not bend and twist this man the way she did everyone else and she was irked by it.
“Try the apples, they are delicious,” he remarked, his mouth full.
She kept her stiff back to him. “I do not want any, thank you.”
“So you intend to only eat bread and nothing else?” he asked. When she shrugged, he continued. “Dustin, you did not eat anything all day yesterday, and I know you did not break your fast this morning. You shall make yourself ill if you do not eat more than a simple piece of bread.”
She shrugged again and he put his spoon down, getting out of his chair. “Come on,” he grasped her shoulders and pushed her back to the table. “Eat something.”
“Nay,” she protested. “I…I can’t sit on that chair, it will pain me.”
He looked at her with annoyance, finally sitting heavily in his own chair and pulling his rigid wife onto his lap. She twisted and fussed, and tried to pull away from him.
“Cease,” he snapped softly, and she was instantly still, though she was glaring at him. “Now, my legs are a bit softer than the chair, so you may sit with me and eat your meal.” As she shook her head, he raised an impatient eyebrow. “I shall feed you if I have to.”
Her anger glazed with uncertainty, and she took the remaining piece of bread in her hand and shoved it into her mouth, still glaring at him as she chewed. He repressed a smile, reaching across the small table and pulling her trencher next to his.
“Try the apples, they are delicious.” He picked up his spoon and resumed eating.
It was certainly the strangest meal Dustin had ever eaten. Torn between her anger for him and the comfort of his warmth and closeness, she somehow managed to eat everything in front of her. Christopher was pleased she was complying, realizing toward the end of the meal that his left hand had never left her waist. He was also hopeful that her anger was spent, for he had no desire to butt heads with her the rest of the day.
He finished his meal, watching her as she finished hers. As she was finishing the apple cider left in her cup, his right hand fingered the skirt of the indigo-blue surcoat she wore.
“David brought your new dresses,” he said. “Why do you not wear one?”
She set the cup down, looking at his huge fingers grasp
her dress. She could refuse, but she could not take another spanking this day.
“Very well,” she said quietly, hating herself for sounding so damn submissive. “Which one would you like to see?”
“You choose,” he replied.
She stood up, rubbing her bum as she moved over to the bundles piled next to her bed. The one on the top was the lavender. She picked it up and broke the strings that tied it.
Christopher rose, moving for the door. “I shall be downstairs,” he told her. “Come and show me when you have finished.”
“Aye, my lord,” she responded quietly.
He gave her blond head a second glance as he exited the room, wondering if she were going to do as he asked or if she would find some other way to disobey him.
*
Christopher was outside in the mid-afternoon, watching the de Velt twins’ swordplay in the small arena to the west of the fortress. David, Edward and Leeton stood with him, all yelling encouragement or insults at the two burly men. Several other officers and soldiers were also watching, including Jeffrey. David nudged his brother.
“Why did you let him stay?” he asked.
Christopher glanced at Jeffrey before returning his gaze to Max and Anthony. “We can use all of the knights available,” he replied. “I should like to see him fight the winner of this match.”
His brother did not truly answer his question, and David was more curious than ever. Interrogation of Jeffrey earlier had given him no clues, either.
“Chris, I thought you were intent on seeing this man leave,” he said again. “Why is he still here?”
“Do you want him gone?” Christopher asked.
“I care not,” David answered, watching Max land a particularly heavy blow on his brother. “But you do not like him; that is apparent. Especially in lieu of the blow you landed him this morning.”
Christopher sighed, clearing his throat. “I struck him because he touched my wife, and he knew it,” he replied. “And it is not a matter of whether or not I like the man, but I understand him better now. We had a most productive talk this morning, which is why I let him stay.”
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 12
