The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  It was mid-morning before Christopher went to seek her. He hadn’t seen her when he and the other knights had broken their fast at dawn and had yet to catch a glimpse of her. Mayhap it was a guilty conscience that made him more eager to see her than usual.

  He rapped softly at her door, calling her name. Twice more he tried and received no answer. Quietly, he lifted the latch and stuck his head inside.

  What he saw shocked him and he knew instantly that someone had told her about his indiscretion. He should have known the stupid bitch would have run and told everyone who would listen. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach as he surveyed the torn dresses. Dresses he had asked her to wear. Christ, he knew the symbolic meaning of the ripped and destroyed clothing without even asking her and he was deeply distressed.

  It was his own fault; all of it. Had he not been so proud, had he only been strong enough to wait, had he only…? It had taken hurdles and leaps and bounds to bring their relationship to the point it had reached, and looking at the chaotic room he could only pray that it had not been completely destroyed. He realized with growing concern that he didn’t want Dustin hating him for the rest of his life. He wanted, nay, needed her companionship. He’d never needed anyone before the way he was beginning to need her.

  He picked up a swatch of the gold, remembering how beautiful she had looked in it. He also remembered the way she laughed with Rebecca, her unrestrained comical sense and the beautiful shape of her mouth when she smiled. She had smiled at him like that on a few rare occasions. He wondered darkly if he would ever see that smile again.

  There was a way out of this, of course. He could lie to her. Christ, he hated that thought. He was a man of impeccable honor and standards, and he knew he could not, in good conscience, lie to his wife. But he was feeling a peculiar sense of desperation, as if he would do anything to gain peace between them.

  David came up behind him, surveying the room with surprise. “What in the hell happened here?”

  Christopher was still clutching the piece of gold material. “I do not know for sure, but I have an idea.”

  “What idea? Where is your wife?” David asked with rising concern.

  Christopher sighed. “Off somewhere, hating me,” he said softly, looking at his brother. “I took a serving wench to my bed last night, David. I can only imagine that Dustin has heard the rumors.”

  David looked puzzled. “Why would you take a whore when you have a wife?”

  “I haven’t bedded her yet!” he suddenly snapped, disgusted with the whole situation, fighting for a grip on himself. He raked his fingers through his blond hair. “Leave it at that, David. I have to go find Dustin.”

  “You haven’t bedded her? Damn, why not?” David grabbed his brother’s arm, trying to understand. “She’s the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Chris. Why in the hell would you leave her untouched?”

  Christopher was frustrated and agitated for too many reasons. “Because…oh hell, ’tis too complicated. Just leave me alone and say nothing of this to anyone.”

  But David wouldn’t be put off. “Because you are too stubborn to admit you want her, isn’t that right?” David’s voice was low and controlled. “And she’s too naïve and innocent to know what she wants. You have never had to fight a woman to get into her bed, Chris, and you think that Dustin will refuse you. Tell me I am right.”

  Christopher’s eyes were dark as he glared at his brother. “If you know so much, then answer your own damn question.”

  David smiled wryly. “I already have. And I know something else, too. You care for your wife, and you don’t want to.”

  “To hell with you,” Christopher growled, throwing down the piece of golden silk and storming from the room.

  David shook his head at his brother’s foolishness, foolishness that just might cost him what he did so want, yet wouldn’t admit it; his wife.

  *

  Christopher found Dustin out by the rabbit hutches, feeding a big, fat white rabbit a bunch of greens. She looked like a serving wench, dusty and dirty with her hair askew under the bright sun. But she looked terribly beautiful and his heart did a strange little twist, a feeling he was coming to associate with her. He was coming to soften every time he looked at her. He stood there a moment, struggling to summon the courage to speak to her.

  “Greetings, wife,” he said softly.

  She didn’t look up at him or acknowledge him in any way. He waited a nominal amount of time for her to speak before clearing his throat. “I am speaking to you, Dustin.”

  She put the rabbit back in his cage. “I know,” she replied.

  “Why don’t you answer me?” he asked.

  “I have nothing to say to you, my lord,” she said respectfully, busying herself with another rabbit in another cage.

  “Why?” he asked.

  She held up another bunch of greens to the little brown bunny, not answering him. He watched her as her jaw ticked and she blinked rapidly as if chasing off tears. He had never felt so guilty.

  “Tell me what you heard,” he said softly.

  Dustin could not hold the tears back anymore and she sobbed quietly into the rabbit’s silky fur. He waited patiently, wondering why she was feeling so hurt if indeed she were as indifferent to him as she pretended. But she was a prideful woman and he knew her honor was damaged.

  “I cannot repeat it,” she whispered.

  He stepped closer to her, nearly touching her. “I would hear it. Tell me.”

  She cried into the rabbit’s coat. “That… that you bedded a serving wench and she bears your bastard.”

  He sighed sadly, feeling as badly as he possibly could. “Put the rabbit down and come with me,” he said gently.

  “Nay,” she suddenly hissed, moving away from him. “I hate you, Christopher de Lohr. I hate you with all that I am and I will never forgive you for shaming me, never. Go to London and leave me alone for I do not ever want to see you again.”

  She had every right to be mad and he had to force down an instinctive response. “Easy, my lady, easy,” he said calmly. “Will you please put the rabbit down and allow me to explain?”

  “Nay,” her voice was louder, her crying gaining speed. “There is nothing you can say that I will want to hear. Go away.”

  He didn’t care if they were creating a scene. He was going to speak to her and she was going to listen. He snatched the rabbit by the ears and tossed it into the cage. Dustin, startled and angered, started to scream at him but he caught her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder. He then carried her, kicking and hollering, all the way back through the kitchens and up to his room, where he proceeded to set her down and lock the door for good measure.

  Dustin was like a wet cat, all fury and fight. She immediately started throwing things at him, anything she could get her hands on, screaming like a banshee. He removed his mail, his sword, until he was dressed only in a tunic, boots and a pair of breeches. The entire time she raged, he had yet to say a word, and spent most of his time dodging flying objects. But he let her go on; she had every right to be mad.

  He stood and watched her as she stripped all of the covers off the bed, bashing the pillows against the wooden frame until feathers flew everywhere, all the while screaming of her hatred for him and for men in general.

  As he watched her vent, it struck him that he could not lie to her if he wanted to build a good relationship with the woman. The relationship was probably already destroyed, but he still could not make up falsehoods simply to ease tensions. He must be honest with her, and as much as he found himself choking on the mere thought, to ask for her forgiveness.

  He went over to the edge of the bed, standing in the flurry of feathers that stuck to his hair and clothing.

  “Would you listen to me now?” he asked.

  She glared at him with a look to kill, the tears and fury having expended most of her energy. Lacking the will or desire to go on anymore, she fell forward onto the mattress and rolled onto her back, an ar
m up over her head as she looked away from him.

  Seeing she was calm and quiet for the moment, he sat on the edge of the bed. Forming the correct words were not easy.

  “I am sorry for your hurt,” he said softly. “Please know that I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally. I do mean that.”

  “Then it’s true,” she whispered. “You did bed her.”

  “I did, but it is not that simple,” he answered, struggling with himself. “I didn’t want to marry you; you know that. Yet, as the days passed and I came to know you, I came to like you. You are a priceless character, and a dazzling beauty, and the more I came to like you, the angrier I became at myself. Call it independence, pride, arrogance, whatever you wish. I felt threatened by you, I think.”

  “Why?” she hiccupped, still not looking at him.

  “Because I knew once I lay myself open to you I would be vulnerable for your rejection,” he replied. “You told me yourself that you did not want a husband. And the more I felt want for you, the harder it became for me. Last night, I wanted you, I will admit it now. But I would not go to you, knowing your feelings and knowing mine. The wench was a nonthreatening outlet for pent-up emotions. She was an object, Dustin, and nothing more. But I found that all the while I was with her, I was imagining she was you. ’Tis not an excuse I give you but an explanation. Whether or not it eases your humiliation, I will tell you all the same.”

  She lay back on his bed, staring off into the space of the room. Even in her state she realized that it must have taken considerable courage for him to admit his feelings. If he had the courage, mayhap she did, too.

  Dustin sat up, drying her eyes before standing on her feet. Slowly she released her hair from its clip, shaking it until it fell all about her like a glorious coat of gold.

  “Do you care for me, Christopher?” she asked softly.

  He blinked slowly before answering. “Aye.”

  She turned to him with a raised brow. “You do?”

  He nodded and stood up, turning away from her. “Aye, I do, and do not ask me why, either. You are the most bull-headed, obstinate, unyielding woman I have ever had the misfortune to marry, and after the disrespect you have shown me, I have no idea why I….”

  “Christopher,” she cut him off and he turned around. “I care for you, too.”

  He just stared at her, unsure of what to do next. He simply shook his head faintly, his blue eyes melding with her gray ones.

  “I do not know what to say, Dustin,” he murmured. “This is madness; all of it. Other husbands take servants to bed and not an eyebrow is raised, but I regretted what I had done the moment I did it because I felt as if I had betrayed you. And I have.”

  She lowered her gaze and leaned against the canopy post, deep in thought. “I know nothing of coupling, Chris. I have seen animals mate and know the physical aspects of it, but I am an innocent when it comes to the mating of people.” Her hand absently caressed the post. “I know that it is the most intimate act a husband and wife can perform, yet a necessary one to perpetuate the family. I do not know why I feel so betrayed that you would choose to mate with another. It’s not as if I am a desirable woman, not like some, so in a sense I do not blame you for seeking out a more experienced woman.”

  He came to her then, his hand closing over hers as it held on to the bedpost. “You are by far the most desirable woman I have ever met,” he said quietly, reaching out his free hand to cup her face. “Think not for one moment that I do not find you attractive. You affect me, lady, and that frightens me.”

  Dustin’s heart began to pound wildly against her ribs as his blue eyes bore into her. She didn’t know why and she suddenly stopped caring why. He was so big and powerful and masculine and, yes, even though he was a man, she had to force herself to admit he was attractive and wonderful.

  Even if he had bedded the wench, he wasn’t entirely to blame for that. She knew she had not exactly been yielding and she was suddenly seized with the urge to know the feeling of his lips on hers. To her, a kiss was very intimate and it was difficult to comprehend much more.

  “Chris,” she whispered.

  “Aye?” his voice was husky.

  “I do not like honeyed words,” she stammered back. “And I slug men who try to kiss me.”

  “Shall I go no further?” His eyes twinkled under half lowered lids.

  She gazed back into them, her fear returning slightly. “Tell me you care for me, as a husband should.”

  “I care for you as a husband should,” he repeated, very nearly upon her.

  “Tell me you shall protect and defend me always, and that you shall never bed another woman,” she whispered, feeling his hot breath on her face.

  “All that and more, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Dustin?”

  “Aye?” she could nearly taste him, as close as he was and her arms and legs were tingling painfully, her heart pounding in her ears.

  “May I have permission to kiss you?” he asked, barely audible.

  “Aye,” she replied.

  “Chris?”

  “Yes, Dustin?” He could nearly taste her, too, and it was driving him mad.

  She hesitated a brief second, her eyes tearing away from his mouth long enough to look him in the eye. “Speak honeyed words to me,” she gushed breathlessly.

  He was on her before she could draw another breath, his mouth warm and soft and suckling her so fiercely she was overwhelmed. She’d never been kissed before. Dear Lord, is this what she had been afraid of? She knew instantly that she had been foolish for fearing something as sweet and wonderful as this.

  Dustin was pliable and willing as Christopher’s mouth did thrilling, erotic things to her own. His tongue gently pried her lips apart and she opened her mouth wide, crying softly as his tongue plunged into her sweet depths. Her arms wound around his neck, her hands pulling at his thick blond hair in movements that were purely instinctive and needful.

  As Christopher increased his onslaught, he knew one thing, he’d never tasted anything so sweet in his life and he was afraid he would choke her trying to gain his fill. But he could not stop himself and when her fingers entwined in his hair, he whisked her up into his arms and laid her gently upon the bed, covering her up with his big body.

  Christopher’s hands moved to her full breasts, gentle yet insistent as he massaged her through her blouse and she arched into him, never having experienced such a thing but loving it instantly. They were losing themselves in each other, faster than either one of them imagined possible, until all that mattered was the feel and touch and taste of one another. My wife, Christopher thought with disbelief and glee. This woman is my wife.

  “Chris?” a very loud male voice boomed from outside his door.

  Christopher took his lips from Dustin’s, albeit reluctantly, and pushed himself off of her and moved for the door. Dustin, suddenly embarrassed to realize the position she was in, jumped off the bed and tried to look nonchalant although her face was mightily flushed.

  Christopher opened the door and David pushed his way in, his eyes wide. He looked right at Dustin.

  “Is everything well?” he asked.

  Christopher leaned against the open door, glancing at Dustin. “Everything is fine, David. As you can see, Lady Dustin and I are whole and sound. No blood or bruises.”

  David looked around, noticing the disarray of the room. The servants had told him of the way the baron had manhandled his wife out by the rabbit hutch and he was genuinely concerned for her safety.

  “This room is a mess,” he commented, looking back at Dustin.

  She cleared her throat and straightened her skirt, feeling very self-conscious and ashamed of her wanton behavior. She walked very quickly to the door, pushing past David and Christopher.

  “If you will excuse me, my lords,” she said, her head down.

  “Where are you going?” Christopher asked.

  She didn’t dare look up, knowing her face to be red. “I
….I have a few duties to attend to. I must go.”

  “Dustin,” Christopher tried to stop her, but she escaped him and David grabbed his arm when he tried to follow. He looked reprovingly at his brother. “What do you do?” he indicated the grip on his wrist.

  “What were you doing to her up here?” David demanded. “This room is a sight.”

  Christopher was getting a bit tired of his brother’s meddling. He sighed heavily. “David, she did this in her anger,” he said impatiently. “I did not lay a hand on her. And, furthermore, you interfere like an old woman. Dustin is my wife, not our wife, and you will kindly remember that in the future. I do not like your constant hovering about.”

  David raised an eyebrow. “Someone needs to hover, Chris, since you obviously do not know the first thing about dealing with her. She’s your chattel and that’s exactly how you treat her, and I am ashamed for you.”

  Christopher stiffened. “I treat her better than that, and you know it. How dare you accuse me of neglect and ignorance.”

  David shrugged and stepped away from his brother, angry. “She’s better than that, Chris.”

  Christopher saw a good deal in that softly uttered statement and his cheeks went red with rage as he faced off against his brother.

  “Goddamn you, David,” he hissed. “You have feelings for her. Can you deny it?”

  David tried to turn away. “You are mad.”

  Christopher blocked him. “Nay, little brother, I am not,” he said. “Now this all makes sense; that is why you have appointed yourself her personal defender. You care for my wife.”

  David’s face turned red and his mouth tightened. “You do not know what you are saying.”

  Christopher glared at his brother, becoming aware that his actions certainly implicated him in a much larger problem. But David would deny it until he died and there was no use pressing the issue.