She shrugged, looking away from him. He reached out and snatched her arm, whipping her around to face him. Poor little Christin’s head snapped with the suddenness of the movement and Dustin gasped.
“Answer me,” he said in a low voice.
He only succeeded in making her mad. “I understood you perfectly. And I do not like being handled like a rough-house wench.”
“Then do not act like one,” he replied smoothly.
“I shall act as I please, Lord Marcus,” she said. “If you do not like it, then send me home. I did not ask to come here.”
He stared back at her a moment before releasing her arm. “Yet you are here nonetheless and will abide by my wishes,” he said quietly. “I do not wish to fight, Dustin. Would you take the nooning meal with me, alone, in my chambers?”
She gazed at him a moment. “Do you mean to ask if I will bed you again? I do not feel like it.”
He let out a hissing sigh and stepped back from her, his exasperation showing for the first time. “If I wanted to bed you, then I would do it. I do not need to ask your permission. I was simply looking to spend some time alone with you.”
Her mouth opened in outrage. “You would not bed me without my approval,” she said hotly. “You are not my husband, Marcus Burton, nor are you my lord and master, and I shall not be treated like your concubine.”
He grabbed her again and pulled her close to him, his eyes blue flames. “I shall treat you like my wife if you will let me,” he snapped with quiet ferocity. “Damnation, Dustin, what do I have to do to you to make you believe that my love is sincere? All I want to do is love you.”
Her hostility, fed by her own confusion, drained away. He was so vulnerable, so open, that she could see his soul in his eyes. How terrible to love someone so completely and not receive just a little in return. Now there was another item to add to her guilt.
“I am….I am scared,” she whispered before she could control herself. “Everything I have ever loved has died. I cannot love anymore, Marcus.”
His anger fled at her open confession. He could see she was being entirely honest and his heart ached for her.
“I won’t ever leave you, and I won’t die,” he whispered earnestly. “I swear to you, Dustin, with God as my witness. Do not be afraid, honey. Please. I will not hurt you.”
She stared at him a moment, wanting to believe him but still afraid. Christin reached out and grabbed at his face and he kissed her little hand, still staring at Dustin. That sweet, simple gesture brought tears to Dustin’s eyes.
“I just don’t know, Marcus,” she whispered.
He sighed faintly. “If anyone should be afraid, it should be I,” he said quietly. “Hell, Dustin, I have wrestled with a demon greater than myself for the love of you. I’d walk the fires of hell or swim from here to eternity for you, and that in itself is scary. I love you desperately and know even so that you do not love me, yet I lay myself open to you every day, hoping beyond hope that you shall come around. I risk great personal anguish for you. Now, tell me; who should be more afraid? Me or you?”
Christin batted at his cheek, entranced with the scratchy stubble. Dustin continued to stare into his eyes, battling a demon of another sort; she still loved her dead husband and she knew she could never love Marcus, but she could not bring herself to tell him that.
“I shall try,” she said after a moment. “I can only promise to try.”
“And marry me?” he pressed gently.
“And marry you,” she agreed, feeling as if she had just lost some sort of battle.
He smiled and kissed Christin’s hand again, then kissed her. Even if she did not love him, his kiss could still curl her toes.
“You won’t regret it, I promise,” he said.
She forced a smile at him as he took Christin from her and put his arm around her waist, resuming their walk.
“Won’t you tell me why you were so rude to Dud?” she asked again, nicer this time.
Marcus cleared his throat softly, averting his gaze. He did not want to admit the truth to her.
“Because he was neglecting his duties,” he said simply. “Didn’t Chris ever tell you not to question any order he gave to his men?”
“In a sense,” she said, knowing Marcus was right. “He told me never to question any order.”
“And he was right,” Marcus teased, although the underlying tone was serious. “Never question my orders, my lady. Each command serves a purpose or function, and is well thought out. Understand?”
“Aye,” she nodded.
He sensed her melancholy mood but refused to give into it.
“Shall we ride into town? The man at the livery had a beautiful pony I thought would make a fine mount for Christin.”
“A pony?” Dustin repeated. “Marcus, she’s only seven months old. She cannot ride a pony.”
“Not now, but give her a few months.” He nibbled on the baby fingers. “She will ride like a knight.”
Dustin shook her head. Even if he wasn’t Christopher, sometimes he sounded a good deal like him.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Day by day Christopher worked with his sword, repetition and drills constituting his regimen. The dummies the boys had rigged for him worked well for the first week or so, but after that he simply wore them out. Simon and his friends insisted on repairing the barriers, but Christopher gently turned them down. ’Twas easier to simply practice against a solid tree, and the clearing was surrounded by plenty of them.
Simon wanted to be a knight and Christopher knew the boy’s desires all too well. But he was in no mood to teach the boy skills, for he was preoccupied with his own recovery. But he almost felt obligated to take Simon under his wing, for if it hadn’t been for the boy’s parents, Christopher wouldn’t have survived at all.
So, with reluctance, he began training Simon. It slowed his own progress down considerably to work with the boy, but much to his surprise, he found he actually enjoyed training the lad. Not that his determination to return home had lessened in anyway, but he wasn’t so disturbed at his slow pace anymore. Simon was an eager, dedicated student.
But along with Simon came his friends, and soon Christopher found himself fostering fourteen boys between the ages of nine and fifteen. Every morning, the boys would be waiting for him in the clearing to begin their daily drills and Christopher would instruct them fully before starting his own drills. Rob and Jonathan, when they weren’t out on business, took to supervising.
Christopher should have been irritated that his focus was being diverted and his progress slowed, but he truly wasn’t. He came to enjoy teaching the young boys, and they were so damned eager he had not the heart to deny them. He remembered when he was their age and all he lived for was the feel of a sword in his hand, dreaming of the day when he would be the realm’s greatest knight.
He found it hard to believe how much he had changed since returning from the quest. The self-centered, arrogant man had grown a heart in the interim and he found himself doing and saying things that the Lion’s Claw would have never done or said. His compassion, no longer suppressed, was allowed to express itself and his sense of humor had found an escape. He was still the dedicated, controlled person he had always been, but he had matured. He had become something quite wonderful, and he knew he owed everything to his wife. He would be nothing without her.
His heart yearned for her more every day and sometimes the impatience threatened to drive him insane, but he was wise in that he knew he could not make the trek before he was physically able to complete it.
His strength returned more and more each day and he had gained some of his weight he had lost, thanks to Marianne’s cooking and his rigorous training. In fact, he thought his body looked and felt better than it had before, leaner and tighter. But he still had time to go before he was perfect and he focused every morning on that one goal to be perfect again, to return to Dustin.
April was a beautiful month, even in the middle of Sherwood. The cold
weather began to warm a bit and the birds and animals were alive in the trees. Christopher’s young knights were progressing very well and he was immensely proud of them, as if they were his own sons. Rob even took to sparring with Simon, receiving a good nick on his arm one afternoon and congratulating his son for his prowess.
Christopher was practicing on horseback now, strengthening his legs and torso as he sparred with straw dummies atop poles. The muscles where his wound was had been severed and badly damaged and he was stiff, but he worked hard to loosen his body and firm up the muscles that had been unused for months.
It was at this point in time that he decided he could indeed ride back to Lioncross. Hell, he could do what he was doing here at home, and make love to his wife in his off time. He felt strong and whole, mayhap not quite as strong as he had once felt, but he felt good just the same. With a rush of excitement and relief, he decided it was time for him to leave.
Rob was not surprised to hear of his decision. “I knew you’d leave us someday,” he said. “The more I saw you work, the more I knew it would be soon. Do you truly feel up to it?”
“I do, my lord,” Christopher answered. “The sooner I get back to my wife and family, the more completely I shall recover.”
Rob nodded. “Simon will be crushed,” he said. “Who will continue their training?”
Christopher smiled sympathetically. “Send him to foster with me at Lioncross; send them all. I have many fine knights who will train them.”
Rob rubbed his chin slowly, “Do you know I have been thinking just that?” he looked around at his encampment. “Look at this place, baron. ’Tis no place to raise a son. I should like a better life for Simon, away from his father, the outlaw.”
Christopher could feel the man’s melancholy at the situation. “If I might ask, my lord, why was he not sent away when he was six or seven, as most boys are?
Rob shrugged. “His mother could not bear to be away from him,” he said frankly. “He is our only child. Marianne wanted to keep him as long as she could, although I have chided her on the subject many a time.”
Christopher nodded, noticing Lizabetha in conversation several yards away with a tall young man. She was animated and smiling, and Christopher found himself thanking God that her attentions to him had been brief.
“I shall consent to sponsor him if you wish, my lord,” he focused on Rob. “I would consider it an honor.”
“God’s Blood, baron, the honor would be ours,” Rob insisted. “Our son fostered by the great Lion’s Claw? What prestige.”
“Think on it, then,” Christopher said. “I shall be leaving on the morrow, with your permission.
“I shall speak with my wife,” Rob said, eyeing Christopher in the filtered sunlight. “I am sorry to see you go, baron. You have made our dingy world a little less gray.”
Christopher smiled, standing back to salute him formally. “And I, my lord, owe you my very life. Consider me always your humble servant.”
“All I ask is that you put in a good word for me to Richard,” Rob insisted. “I am not an outlaw or a bandit, baron. I am simply a man trying to make a life.”
“I know,” Christopher replied. “And I swear I shall do my very best.”
As Christopher went back to his tent to prepare for his departure, he could hardly believe the time had come. He could picture Dustin in his mind, smell her hair, and feel her skin, and it nearly drove him insane. But he was terrified for what he would find upon his return and with each passing second, his excitement and anxiety grew.
*
Marcus and Dustin were married in the small chapel of Somerhill. It was a lovely little sanctuary and Dustin was married in a dress of ivory silk, with Christin all dressed up in rose and pink. Marcus held the baby throughout the entire ceremony, and after he had placed a chaste kiss on his new wife’s lips, he kissed the baby on the head. Christin had contentedly sucked her fingers, unaware of what had transpired.
Dustin wore the cross Christopher had given her and the wedding rings from him as her only adornment. Marcus saw the jewelry but said nothing until they were seated at the wedding feast.
“Why are you wearing those rings?” he said casually. “I had to put my ring on your right hand.”
Dustin glanced down at the gold band and diamond ring. “I…I do not know. I always wear them. I have never taken them off.”
“I would appreciate it if you would, at least, wear my ring on your left hand,” he said. “You can wear those rings on your right hand if it pleases you.”
Dustin could not bear to remove the rings. She had bedded this man, and married him, yet she could not stand the thought of moving Christopher’s rings to her other hand. To remove them would to be admitting that she was no longer Lady de Lohr, no longer Christopher’s wife. She knew in her mind that she wasn’t married to him anymore, but her heart had yet to accept it. The rings did not belong on her right hand and Marcus could not force her.
The minstrels began to sing a lovely ballad for the newlyweds as Dustin faced Marcus firmly.
“I do not want to move them, I want to wear them where they are,” she said. “I….I am not ready to move them yet.”
His face darkened. “That’s ridiculous. You just married me, Dustin. I shall not allow you to wear your dead husband’s wedding rings in lieu of mine.”
“Do not say that!” she screamed, shooting out of her chair. The musicians kept playing, but all eyes had turned to the newly-married couple.
“Sit down, Dustin, you are making a scene,” Marcus said in a low voice.
“I will not,” she snapped, turning to take Christin from Lady Emma. “I will return to my room now.”
He ground his jaw, pulling Christin out of Dustin’s arms and handling her back to Lady Emma. “Come with me.”
She took a swing at him but he ducked, throwing her over his shoulder and the small crowd in the hall went wild with approval. Dustin kicked and twisted, drawing even greater applause from the audience, as he carried her from the dining hall and up to his bedchamber.
Inside, he set her down roughly and she stumbled away from him, her pretty face flushed. Without a word, she tried to push past him and escape the room, but he grabbed her arm and flung her onto the bed. His huge body fell atop her, pinning her to the mattress.
“Get off me!” she yelled.
His voice was low. “You are my wife now and I may do anything I please. ’Tis time you accept that.”
She glared at him, knowing his words to be true. “God forgive me for what I was thinking when I consented to marry you. I must have been mad!”
He was stung but he did not show it. Patience, he kept telling himself. Be patient and she will come around.
“I love you, Lady Burton,” he said quietly. “I have always loved you, and nothing you can say or do will change that. Is it so hard to accept my love?”
She turned her face away, still struggling against him. “I married you, Marcus, what more do you want?”
“I want you, your heart, your mind, as well as your body,” he said steadily. “Jesus, Dustin, why do you treat me as if I am a leper? You act as if I am a twisted, disfigured troll instead of the man I am. Do I truly repel you?”
She stopped her fighting, looking at him then. “Is that what you think? That you repel me?”
“What am I to think?” he returned softly.
She shook her head slowly. “Marcus, of course you do not repel me. You are the most handsome man I have ever seen.”
“Besides Chris,” he added.
She nodded. “Aye, besides my hus…Chris.” Her face went soft, her struggles ceased for the moment and he relaxed atop her. “I remember the first time I saw you. You are so striking that I had very unladylike thoughts about you, and I was embarrassed because I had only been married a week. I was guilty for thinking someone gorgeous other than my husband.”
“Is that right?” he smiled faintly. “I remember the first time I saw you, too. Once I got past al
l of this hair, I realized you were absolutely beautiful. And I wanted you. Even after I learned you were Chris’ wife, I still wanted you.”
“I know,” she said. “You kissed me.”
“I did,” he agreed evenly. “Admit it to me now, Dustin. You liked it. Before the shock set in and you pulled away, you liked it.”
She gazed back into the dark blue depths and offered a little grin. “Perhaps,” she said ambiguously. “But you scared me because you made me feel vulnerable.”
“Why?” he wanted to know.
“Because you were willing and I found you attractive,” she said honestly. “But the more I grew to love Chris, the easier it was to ignore you. I remember thinking that if you had showed up at Lioncross first, you would have been the love of my life.”
His smile faded. “Had I but known, honey, I would have been the first man to come for you, believe me.”
Her hand came up, timidly, and she ran her fingers slowly through his wavy black hair. Lord, he was a handsome devil.
“Why am I so blessed that the two most important warriors in the kingdom both found love with me?” she whispered in awe. “What did I ever do right in the eyes of God to warrant such a reward?”
He shook his head, dipping his head to kiss her softly on the neck. “Do you know that I have never loved anyone, or anything, in my life? Especially not a woman.”
“What about your family? Mother?” she asked, closing her eyes at his soft, warm lips.
He was working his way up her neck. “I left to foster when I was six years old, so I have little attachment to my mother,” he said, his mouth against her skin. “Other than Richard, and my fellow knights, I have loved no one. Mayhap that is why I lose control around you so easily.”
She melted into his touch, his caresses, and soon their clothes were off and their bodies were melding erotically. Dustin pushed him over on his back, dragging her mouth all over his broad chest, closing her eyes and trying hard not to imagine him to be Christopher. She straddled him, her buttocks nearly resting on his neck, and fondled his arousal endlessly before plunging her hot mouth onto him. She could feel him kneading her bum and nipping at her skin.
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 86
