The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Christopher relaxed a bit and stood back, feeling strangely jealous that David should care for Dustin in something other than a brotherly sense. His brother, a man he had fought with and killed for, a man who was closer to him than anyone. It had always only been Christopher and David against the world. And now… there was Dustin.

  “She is my wife, David,” he said after a few moments, his voice hoarse and quiet. “Always remember that.”

  Their eyes met, steadily, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. David was the first one to break.

  “It is something I will never forget,” he said evenly.

  Christopher waved his brother off, retreating back down the hall to find his wife, leaving David standing alone, struggling with himself.

  *

  Dustin had all but disappeared, but Christopher didn’t worry. He was coming to know her well enough to assume she was somewhere on the grounds. The nooning meal came and went and she did not appear, but still he did not concern himself. They had said a great deal to each other that morn and he was feeling confident with the progression of their relationship. In fact, he felt very hopeful. Instead of weakening it, his mistake seemed to have strengthened the bond they were forming.

  He noticed that Jeffrey was also missing from the nooning meal, but thought nothing of it. He was far more concerned with David, who ate silently and did not as much as pass him a glance. Christopher was sure he had struck close to the truth when he accused David of caring for Dustin, and he knew his brother was angry at him, true or not.

  Leeton and Edward were supervising the remaining repairs on the fortress as Christopher began arrangements for his departure to London. He even went in to the village himself to retrieve the dresses Rebecca had finished, and to pay her a lump sum for everything. He paid her far more than she was expecting to receive, and she was extremely pleased.

  “My lord is generous,” she said, thanking him graciously; almost embarrassed to be accepting such a sum.

  He fought off a grin. “ ’Tis worth it to see Lady Dustin in something other than rags,” he told her.

  Without a hind glance, his arms laden with three surcoats for his wife, Christopher moved for the door and opened it. Yet, something inexplicably made him pause, and he found himself turning back to his wife’s friend.

  Rebecca could read the uncertainty in his eyes and she was puzzled. “Is something wrong, my lord?”

  “Nay, nothing is wrong.” He cleared his throat hesitantly, eyeing Rebecca’s mother. “May I have a word privately, Mistress Rebecca?”

  Rushing to do such a great man’s bidding, Rebecca hurried outside and closed the door behind her. She clasped her hands together, waiting patiently for him to speak. He loaded the dresses onto his destrier before he uttered another word, and then when he spoke, it was timidly.

  “You have known Lady Dustin for some time,” he said.

  “Aye, my lord, since we were small girls,” she answered politely.

  He nodded, scratching his head underneath his raised visor. “I have never been very good at pretense. My wife is a mystery to me and I wish to know more about her. Will you help me?”

  “If I can,” Rebecca replied, wondering what he meant, exactly.

  He could see her confusion and he hastened to clarify. “Tell me why she hates men so much,” he asked.

  Rebecca shrugged. “I do not believe she hates men but I think she resents them for the God-given power they have over women. She is very independent and she does not like to be given orders.”

  “I know,” he said wryly. “I have been on the receiving end of such displays of rebellion.”

  As Rebecca giggled, he allowed himself to let his guard down a bit. He was now on the subject of Dustin and was genuinely curious about her. He wanted to know what Rebecca knew of his wife, a mystery more than any other mystery he had experienced.

  “Will you tell me of the Lady Dustin you know?” he asked, almost pleadingly. “I would be grateful.”

  Rebecca could see that through all of the metal and muscle and titles and hardness that he was simply a man with human emotions. It struck her that he was sincere in his wish to want to know more about the woman he married so she felt comfortable divulging what she could. She hoped Dustin wouldn’t mind.

  “She is intelligent, yet simple,” she said quietly. “She loves her flowers, her animals, and her keep. She was most distressed when her father turned it, and her, over to you. She thought she and her mother were getting along quite nicely by themselves.”

  “The keep was in disrepair,” he remarked faintly.

  “Because Lady Mary refused to do anything until Sir Arthur returned from the quest,” Rebecca told him. “She believed it was his keep and she had no right to touch it.”

  “Ah,” he nodded in understanding. “A wise woman. Continue.”

  Rebecca complied. “Dustin has never been ambitious. She would rather tend her animals and garden than go to court. She simply doesn’t care for material things, which is why I am surprised she is wearing these fine dresses. She has shunned such things up until now.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “Yet she is not a fine and delicate woman, as flowers and animals would suggest.”

  Rebecca grinned. “She can fight like a man and climb a tree like a cat, and she is not afraid to dirty her hands with hard work,” she said. “Yet she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and she reeks with feminine sensuality, which I suspect you already know. Does she puzzle you overmuch, my lord?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Overmuch indeed,” he said, shaking his head and mounting his destrier. He paused to gaze at the woman, his expression grateful. “Thank you, mistress, for everything. And I trust you will keep our conversation confidential.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Rebecca agreed, stepping back as he reined his huge animal around. “And… my lord?”

  He paused a moment. “What is it?”

  Rebecca smiled impishly. “I approve of you spanking her. She needs it.”

  He cracked a smile and slapped his visor down. “More than she gets.”

  Rebecca laughed as she watched the man ride off, thinking that her friend Dustin was a very lucky woman, indeed. Gaze lingering on the big knight as he headed off towards the castle, she went back into her hut.

  *

  Two pairs of eyes watched Christopher de Lohr ride off toward Lioncross, leaving the home of the pretty little red-headed wench. A lover, of course. She would be the first step in the quest to destroy de Lohr, as Sir Ralph had ordered. When he had returned to London, he had left a few men behind to spy, to linger, and to begin the no doubt long and arduous process of destroying the Defender of the Realm. It had taken nearly two days for the spies to decide where to begin, and the redhead was as good a start as any. Finally, they had their opportunity.

  “His whore,” one man mumbled.

  His comrade, dirty and covered with oozing scabs that itched, nodded his scruffy head.

  “Ralph told us to look for a link, and there she is,” he replied. “We will start with her.”

  “Do we kill her?” the other man asked.

  The oily man’s gaze lingered on the neat little hut in the distance. “Ralph wanted insight and answers to the baron,” he said. “We will get our answers, then we will kill her so she cannot tell what we have done.”

  The short, fat man nodded, making sure his dagger was concealed beneath his tunic. Together, they made their way to the hut in the near distance with nothing other than murder and blood on their mind. They had their orders and they had a plan. It would start here.

  In the name of the prince and with the goal of destroying the king, the annihilation of Christopher de Lohr commenced.

  *

  The evening meal at Lioncross consisted of roast beef, Christopher’s favorite meal. He had missed it dreadfully in the Holy Land and found goat to be a very poor substitute. His mouth fairly watered as he dug into a huge knuckle of succulent, strin
gy beef.

  He didn’t expect Dustin to join him. He had found her later in the afternoon tending an overgrown flower patch, at least that was what he had called it, but Dustin had stiffly informed him that it was a garden her mother had planted. He had been extremely annoyed to find Jeffrey with her, standing silently as she cut and pruned and pulled. He was not surprised to see that Jeffrey’s hostility had returned full-bore, undoubtedly due to the wench-bedding rumors. Much to his disgust, he found he couldn’t be too angry at the man’s attitude. In fact, he didn’t really blame him.

  His wife did not seem particularly interested in his presence even though he tried to strike up a conversation. Several times, in fact. After the fourth or fifth attempt, he lost count, stopped trying, and excused himself. He should have ordered Jeffrey to leave as well, but the situation was tense enough as it was and he didn’t want to make things worse. As he went about his business, he set Anthony to watch the two of them at a discreet distance.

  He had nearly devoured his meal and was waving the serving wench to bring him more when his eyes suddenly caught a vision at the top of the stairs. His gaze trailed upward and he stopped in mid-chew, surprised and pleased to see his wife descending the stairs, dressed in one of the new surcoats he had retrieved that day. He had left the surcoats in her room, half expecting to never see them again, and pleased that he had been wrong.

  He and the other knights rose as she approached. “I am pleased that you have decided to join us, Lady de Lohr,” he said graciously, kicking David out of the chair immediately to his left and pulling it out for her. “Please, sit.”

  Without a word, Dustin accepted the chair and sat. Two serving women attended her with food and drink, and the knights sat.

  Christopher could not take his eyes off her. She was wearing a striking sapphire blue that complemented her eyes and complexion beautifully. Her hair, long and straight and silky, was free down her back, and he spent so much time looking at her that it took him a moment to realize she had yet to look at him.

  He was puzzled with her behavior. He had been sure that everything had been said between them that morning and that they were stronger for it, but he was forced to admit that mayhap he was wrong. She was brooding and quiet and he hated to admit that it concerned him.

  “The beef is delicious,” he remarked as she chewed.

  Dustin swallowed, nodding. He watched her drink from her cup and take another bite, still not speaking. He respected her silence and returned to his food.

  “I have never been this close to Wales,” Edward piped up from across the table. “Tell me, my lady, when does winter set in?”

  Dustin’s haunting gray eyes turned to him. “Soon, my lord,” she said. “By late October we will have snow, and will most likely last through February or March. Being so close to the mountains, our weather is always more severe.”

  “Snow,” David sighed. “It has been three long years since I have seen it. There were days in the scorching heat I would dream of it.”

  Dustin looked at her brother-in-law. “The cook gathers great bowlfuls and pours fruit juice or honey on it for a treat.”

  David smiled at her. “I am looking forward to it.”

  Dustin grinned back. “As do I, but father said I would freeze to death eating flavored snow when it was all we could do to keep the great room a little above freezing itself.”

  Christopher watched his brother and wife smile at each other and felt a peculiar twinge deep in his chest. But he said nothing, knowing wisely that he would spoil the mood.

  “I hear you have a cat, my lady,” Leeton said, sitting opposite her.

  “Aye, my lord, a big fat stripped cat,” she nodded. “His name is Caesar because he rules this house and hold.”

  Leeton nodded. “I have seen him, skulking about. Not a particularly friendly animal.”

  “He is,” she looked directly at Christopher, he thought, accusingly. “He is quite fond of the baron.

  Christopher snorted into his goblet. “Ask me not why, for I do not know. He has taken a liking to me and I am at a loss to explain it.”

  “They say predators think alike, Chris,” Edward said dryly.

  Christopher nodded, the joke at his expense. “Which is why you and I get along so well.”

  The banter from that point on was light and amusing, although Dustin and Christopher never directly addressed one another. She spent most of her time listening and feeling her mood lighten, and it wasn’t long before she seemed to pull out of her mood.

  Dustin had indeed been brooding, although she truly didn’t know why. She only knew that ever since Christopher had kissed her, she had been confused and disoriented. She had liked it and she had been willing to submit to him without a fight, and that had frightened her. Why had she relented so easily? What was the power the man had over her with just a simple touch? She didn’t understand what her body was telling her.

  The safest thing, she decided, until she could figure out her mind, was to stay a safe distance away from him. It wasn’t that she was angry with him, but the feelings he awakened within her scared her and her fear kept her aloof.

  The idea that scared her the most was the fact that she wanted him to care for her. She wanted him to like her, to protect her, to need her. He had told her that he did care for her, and even when she heard it, it was as if she didn’t want to hear it. It was as if the stubborn, independent female inside her was fighting with the soft, willing woman that was begging to be let out.

  The meal passed and even when the food was cleared and the senior officers left, and the knights were enjoying their wine and stories, she found that she was enjoying the company too much to leave. She was increasingly aware of Christopher’s gaze on her but she tried desperately to ignore him. She didn’t know what to say to him.

  Two of the kitchen servants who also doubled as minstrels began to play their wooden flutes and Dustin listened dreamily to their soft ballad. David tried to get her to dance, twice, but she refused. She honestly didn’t know how to dance very well and she would not embarrass herself. She’d never liked to dance.

  The more they drank, the louder and wilder the stories became and the more amused Dustin became. She listened to the de Velt twins recall a particularly comical adventure they had shared and she laughed until tears came to her eyes. Max and Anthony were not the brightest men in the room, but they were gifted storytellers and she enjoyed their antics.

  As Dustin loosened up, Christopher nursed his third watered wine. He sat back in his chair, smiling as he listened to his knights and watching his wife’s reaction. She giggled and joked, endearing herself to men who had only seen her belligerent and surly side. This was the Dustin he wanted to know, to be a part of. He hoped to talk to her again before she retired for the night and was preparing his strategy when several of his soldiers entered the smoky hall. Christopher and the other knights were immediately on guard as a senior soldier saluted his liege.

  “Trouble in the village, my lord,” the man said.

  “What sort of trouble?” Christopher demanded.

  The soldier’s gaze flicked in Dustin’s direction. “It seems that a young woman and her mother have been killed, and the entire village is in an uproar,” he said. “ ’Tis said that the young woman was a friend of your wife’s.”

  Dustin shot up from her chair in a panic. “Who is it? Who was killed?”

  The soldier was hesitant, looking to Christopher for direction. “I…,” he stammered. “I am not certain. They could be wrong, of course.”

  Christopher could see the man’s reluctance but he needed answers. “Who have they said was killed?”

  The soldier sighed faintly, knowing he had no choice but to relay what he had heard. “Comlynn,” he said after a moment. “I was told her name was Comlynn.”

  Dustin’s hands flew to her mouth. “Rebecca?” she gasped.

  Christopher looked at her with great concern, instinctively reaching out to steady her. “Steady, lady
,” he murmured firmly before looking to his knights. “Mount your steeds. We ride.”

  The great hall turned into a shifting company of men, all moving purposefully to do their liege’s bidding, but Christopher wasn’t paying much attention to them. He was more concerned with his wife, who had quickly dissolved into tears of fright. Not wanting to leave her, alone and terrified, standing in the great hall, he swept her into his arms and carried her up to her bower.

  Once in her chamber, he set her down on the floor but still kept a strong grip on her arms. She was gasping and crying, her face as white as snow. She didn’t try to pull away from him or fight him, rather, she seemed afraid to let him go.

  “Christopher,” she gasped. “It cannot be true.”

  He felt terrible for her; losing her father, her mother, and now her close friend all within a few days. His huge hands cupped her face.

  “I shall go see, sweetheart, I promise,” he soothed her. “I shall see to your friend.”

  Her hands were gripping his wrists, her big gray eyes gazing up at him. “I would come.”

  He shook his head. “Nay, you will stay here and wait for me,” he said calmly. “I shan’t be long.”

  “Please,” she begged. “I want to come. I must see for myself.”

  “Dustin, you will not, you will stay here,” he said, pulling her to him fiercely, holding her to stop her struggles and comfort her. “I promise I will return quickly. I want you to stay here and calm yourself. The soldier could be wrong, you know.”

  Those seven words calmed her considerably. Her crying lessened but she still clung to him, her face buried in his tunic. He stroked her hair, her back and arms, unwilling to leave her until he was sure she was calming. When he felt her breathing slow, he pulled back and looked at her.

  “I will go now,” he said softly. “But I shall return. Promise me you will not leave your room.”

  She nodded unsteadily, her face wet and her lashes spiky with tears. She looked so pitiful that his heart went out to her and he leaned down, gently kissing on the cheek.

  Dustin’s hand went instinctively to the spot he had touched. She could still feel his lips there, soft and sweet. It had been a tender act, one of unspoken warmth, and as she continued to gaze up at him, somewhat awed by the gesture, he winked at her.