The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  David frowned wryly. “He didn’t touch your wife, he was merely helping her with her dress.”

  Christopher’s head snapped to his brother. “No one touches Dustin but me,” he said sharply. “I will not have my wife being handled by my knights, for any reason.”

  David cocked an eyebrow. “What about me? Would you have slugged me, too?”

  “You are different, David.” Christopher turned away irritably.

  “How so? I am your knight,” his brother persisted.

  “But you are my brother, and her brother-in-law,” Christopher replied, as if David were daft. “ ’Tis different for you to touch her. Why are you arguing this point with me?”

  “I am not,” David gave him a long look. “It’s just, well, for a man who did not want a wife, you are being damn protective of this woman whom you married.”

  “What am I supposed to do, David?” Christopher replied, fully irritated now. “I married her, and I am obligated to protect her. Would you have me ignore her, allow her to do anything she wants with anyone she pleases? Would you have me care so little for the de Lohr name that I would pretend my legal wife did not exist?”

  “I am not questioning your honor, calm down.” David crossed his arms, watching Anthony trip over his own feet and nearly get clobbered by his brother. “It’s just that I am starting to see more to this relationship than you are admitting.”

  Christopher looked at him with contempt. “You are mad, David, and I will hear no more. Lady Dustin is my wife, in name only. That’s it.”

  David snorted a reply, causing his brother to grind his jaw. They watched the de Velt twins wind down their match in silence and Christopher motioned to Jeffrey across the arena. Without any words, Jeffrey knew what was expected of him and eagerly complied. It had been a long time since he had tested his skills on knights as fine as these.

  Christopher watched the massively wide man take on Max, noticing immediately that Jeffrey wasn’t particularly graceful, but he was as strong as an ox and any blow he landed to Max sent the man reeling. He became engrossed in the fight, forgetting his irritation with his brother and studying the ex-captain’s skills. It didn’t take long for him to discern that Jeffrey was very, very good.

  He called a halt and the two men immediately stopped, facing him as he crossed over to them.

  “Take a rest, Max,” he instructed his knight. “I will finish your bout.”

  David tossed him his helmet and he latched it on, lowering the visor and drawing his sword from his scabbard. Jeffrey, seeing Christopher was moving into a defensive stance, immediately did the same.

  “Let’s see how good you truly are,” Christopher said in a low voice.

  Beneath his lowered faceplate, Jeffrey grinned. “A pleasure, my lord.”

  From her second story window, Dustin could see the battle taking place below. She had been watching for some time, having heard the first blows and her interest was piqued. She did not feel like leaving her room, being fatigued or the fact she was still wallowing in self-pity, she didn’t know. But she and Caesar had been holed up playing with a little wooden ball and working on a half-finished piece of needlepoint.

  There were so many other things she could be doing, like trying to retrieve the baby birds she had tried to save two days ago, but she knew in her heart that they were probably dead and she was saddened. She could also be out tending her rabbits, or seeing to the small flower garden her mother had loved so well. Aye, so many things she could be doing, but she simply didn’t have the energy. Rather, she would watch the knights take practice on each other from a nice, safe distance.

  She saw Christopher taking on Jeffrey, wondering if the match were only for practice or if indeed her husband intended to kill the man. With rising concern, she wondered if he was setting out to finish what he had started that morn. Forgetting the fact that she planned to be a hermit this day, she set the needlepoint down and intended to see for herself.

  Although she wore the lavender dress, Christopher had yet to see it, as he had requested. Dustin was very pleased with the surcoat for Rebecca had done an outstanding job. It was very snug in the bodice with a plunging neckline, long trailing sleeves, and a full, voluminous skirt.

  Dustin had pulled the front of her hair back and secured it to the crown of her head with her ivory clip, revealing her heart-shaped face. She usually kept her hair down because she thought her ears stuck out, but she had pulled it back when she had donned the dress to keep it out of her face and had simply forgotten to remove the clip. It was the one piece of jewelry or adornment she owned, and it had been a gift from her father. She only kept it because it had been a useful gift, but true to her nature, she hated fancy, feminine things of any kind.

  All lavender silk and thigh-length blond hair, part of which was piled on top of her head, she dashed out of the castle and headed for the arena.

  The field was surrounded by soldiers as she came up, slowing her pace and craning her neck to catch a better glimpse. She could hear metal slamming on metal and grunts of effort, but she could see nothing. Frustrated, she looked for higher ground. A few feet away was a log. Close to five feet tall and probably three feet in diameter, it was used for various practice drills and she knew she could have a birds-eye view if she could stand atop it. As good at climbing as she was, she managed to hoist herself up without so much as dirtying her dress, and stood her full height a bit unsteadily, her eyes riveted to the arena.

  Christopher and Jeffrey were delivering blows so hard it made her body hurt just watching them. She assumed that if Christopher was going to kill Jeffrey, he would have done so by now, so the men must simply be testing each other. She knew that knights liked to prove themselves constantly.

  She’d seen Jeffrey fight before and knew he had great strength, but she’d never seen her husband fight before and felt that familiar giddy warmth settle over her. His prowess was unmatched as he dealt Jeffrey blow after heavy blow, and the grace with which he lifted his massive sword unparalleled. It seemed to her that to every five or six offensive blows, Jeffrey could only return one or two and spent the rest of his time defending himself. She was amazed at Christopher’s pure skill and precision, it was like Caesar toying with a mouse. It was obvious, even to her, that Christopher was far superior in strength and talent.

  Jeffrey, however, was holding his own until he took a step backwards and tripped, landing heavily in his armor. Christopher was on him in an instant, the tip of his sword against the big German’s neck.

  Jeffrey let his sword fall from his grip and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “I concede, my lord.”

  After a moment, Christopher removed his sword and stood back, extending a hand to help the man to his feet. “You fight well, Jeffrey.”

  Jeffrey raised his visor and grinned. “Not as well as you, my lord. I had heard rumor that the savages called you the Lion’s Claw and now I know why.”

  Christopher sheathed his sword and went to unlatch his helmet, but not before catching sight of Dustin standing atop the pole. She wasn’t hard to miss in the bright color, perched like some exotic, beautiful bird quite comfortably atop the log, watching him.

  He pulled off his helmet and tossed it in the direction of his men. “What are you doing up there?” he called to her.

  “I came to watch,” she answered.

  The crowd surrounding the field parted as he walked through them towards her, his hands on his hips. “Did you climb up there all by yourself?”

  “Of course,” she answered the obvious.

  He shook his head and glanced at his brother, who was grinning up at her with delight. He turned back to his wife.

  “Come down from there,” he motioned sternly.

  She squatted and was preparing to slip down when he waved her off. “Nay, do not climb down and risk that dress.” He stood next to the pole and held out his arms. “Jump and I shall catch you.”

  Without hesitation, she did, and landed easily in his arms. Hi
s hands instinctively tightened about her, and her arms grabbed hold of his neck for support, bringing their two faces very, very close. She kept waiting for him to set her down, but he didn’t.

  “So you like to watch swordfights?” he asked, feeling rather giddy at her closeness.

  She shrugged, feeling the same giddiness he was. “Sometimes,” she replied. “Truthfully, I thought you were still mad at Jeffrey and were planning to kill him.”

  He cracked a faint smile. “And you thought to stop me?”

  She looked away. “I would have tried.”

  He chuckled then. “You are brave, my lady.”

  She didn’t answer him as David and Edward and the other knights approached, all appraising her quite openly.

  “I see that all of the humiliation and trouble we went through was well worth it, Lady de Lohr,” David remarked.

  “The dress is beautiful but not as beautiful as you, my lady,” Leeton put in, bowing slightly and with a grin on his face.

  Dustin hated sweet words but she controlled herself. “Thank you, my lords,” she replied, letting go of Christopher’s neck and pushing herself from his arms.

  “We failed to see you at the nooning meal, my lady,” Edward said. “An injustice I should hope would be corrected this evening?”

  Dustin remembered her sore bottom, not daring to glance back at Christopher. “Mayhap,” she replied vaguely. She was embarrassed by all of the attention, something she was unused to in large numbers. She could handle one man’s attention, but several men flustered her. “I must go,” she said quickly.

  She started to move but suddenly there was a shout high atop the wall and all attention immediately turned to the source.

  “Riders!” came the cry again.

  “Are they flying a banner?” Christopher called back.

  After a pause, there was a wave. “Prince John’s colors.”

  Dustin looked up at Christopher in time to see his expression darken and she was startled, wondering why.

  “Open the gates!” Her husband yelled back after a moment, then turned to his men. “Keep your swords ready, lads.”

  Dustin wondered what on earth he meant by that when suddenly he looked down as if he had forgotten she was there.

  “Max,” he gestured to the dark-haired knight. “Take my wife into the keep, if you please.”

  She ignored the soldier’s outstretched hand. “Why would Prince John be here?” she asked.

  “To see me,” Christopher replied evasively. “Go with Max, Dustin.”

  “Wait,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “I want to see the Prince. I have never seen him before.”

  Christopher had so many other things on his mind that he did not want to deal with her at this moment. He turned to her swiftly.

  “Mayhap another time,” he said quickly. “Now, go. Please.”

  Puzzled and perhaps a bit rebuffed, she allowed Max to take her away and into the castle. Yet as soon as he had closed the entry door behind her, she waited until she heard the knight’s footfalls fade back down the steps before opening the door again and slipping out onto the landing. She wasn’t being deliberately disobedient more than she was simply curious. She’d never seen a prince before.

  *

  Christopher knew that Prince John himself would not have come to the far reaches of the realm, preferring to stay in London surrounded by his silly, pampered, evil courtiers. Yet he was tense and on guard, knowing exactly who would be riding though his gates, and he could taste the dislike on his tongue. There was only one man John felt capable of carrying his messages, a man widely hated for his conniving and diabolical mind. Christopher had been away for three years, yet even so, he could barely speak the name Ralph Fitz Walter without choking on it.

  He stood in the middle of the bailey surrounded by his knights, waiting in silence. The riding party had been spotted from the east as it rounded the crest of the gentle hill leading into the small village, and would take time before they entered the gates. Time enough for him to reflect on his personal mission from Richard, on the answers he would give Fitz Walter.

  When the party finally entered the gates, there were several gaily dressed men on colorful horses, surrounding a particularly dressed-down man in mail and black. The rest of the rather large group were soldiers of the prince, and Christopher ordered them kept outside the gates.

  There was tension in the air as the man in mail and black dismounted his destrier and approached Christopher slowly, removing his gauntlets as he walked. His face was dark, his hair dirty and long. He was ugly and sinister-looking as he smiled thinly at Christopher.

  “This is your gift from Richard?” he said, glancing about the keep. “Impressive. A most fitting gift for our king’s Defender of the Realm.”

  Christopher’s face was unreadable. “What do you want, Fitz Walter?”

  “Not much for greetings, are you?” the man responded. “The heat of the Holy Land must have evaporated your manners.” When Christopher didn’t answer, he continued on. “I come from our glorious prince, de Lohr. He is requesting your presence in London. You came and left so quickly we scarce had a chance to enjoy your illustrious person.”

  “Surely John has enough fools to keep him entertained,” he said coolly. “What does he want of me?”

  “Your beautiful face and your commanding presence, who can say?” Fitz Walter gestured with his hands. “I have been sent to retrieve you personally.”

  Christopher crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I am busy. Tell John I will join him when time allows.”

  The tolerant look faded from Fitz Walter’s face. “Your company is not a request, de Lohr, it is a command by order of our magnificent prince. He would not be happy to learn that you disobeyed his wishes.”

  Christopher gazed back at Ralph Fitz Walter, confidante and right-hand to Prince John. The man’s soul ran as black as his hair.

  “I take my orders directly from King Richard, not the prince,” he said evenly. “As Defender of the Realm, I am answerable to Richard alone. John has no power over me, of which I am sure he is immensely displeased. I am the one man in this country who does not have to obey him, and the crown’s troops in England are mine to command. You see, Ralph, I was there when Richard drafted the missive to his brother that I delivered to him from the Holy Land. I know exactly what it says and exactly what my sworn duties are.” He took a step toward Fitz Walter and lowered his voice. “I am the strong-arm of Richard now that I am returned and I am sure that Prince John is furious at that fact. But it is of no concern to me. He cannot order me about as he does the rest of you idiots.”

  Ralph’s face was dark and angry. “My orders come from the prince himself, de Lohr,” he growled, then glanced at the troops waiting outside the gate. “I shall drag you back if necessary.”

  Beside Christopher, David flinched and his brother put out a calming hand. Fitz Walter looked at David, his lips peeling back in a sneer.

  “Ah, the little Lion Cub,” he said mockingly. “You would be brave and defend your big brother, wouldn’t you?”

  Christopher took another step toward Ralph, at least a head taller than the dark man. “I was, in fact, planning on returning to London,” he said in a low voice. “But I will not be seen with you. I want you out of my keep, and out of my sight, or I will gut you.”

  Ralph gave him a weak smile. “For what?” His eyes suddenly moved beyond Christopher as if something had caught his attention, and a gleam came to his eye. “Oh, my,” he breathed seductively. “Is that Arthur Barringdon’s daughter?”

  Christopher didn’t know she was standing at the keep entry and he swung around rapidly to see that his wife was indeed standing at the top of the steps. David, Leeton and Edward saw his nostrils flare and his jaw tick as he turned back to Fitz Walter.

  “Get out of here, Ralph,” he growled. “I will not tell you again.”

  Ralph’s eyes lit up with amusement, however dangerous. “Oh, de Lohr, you mus
t bring her with you. John will be most pleased to see such a prize.” He stepped sideways, as to better leer at Dustin. “Fine, indeed. A tasty piece of flesh. Had I known about her, I would have taken her for myself while you were still in Jerusalem.”

  Christopher’s jaw was ticking so furiously that he was about to break teeth. Angry would not have been an apt word to describe his emotions at the moment.

  “That is my wife, Lady Dustin de Lohr, and you will never again use those terms to describe her,” he said in a controlled tone. “Now, remount your steed and get the hell out of my keep.”

  “But I only just arrived,” Ralph pressed. “Surely you will invite me in to your new keep to meet your wife?”

  Christopher stared at him but he wasn’t going to tell the man to leave again. His next move would be to enforce his command at knife point. David, however, stepped forward.

  “You have been told to leave,” he rumbled. “Get out before I embarrass you in front of your men.”

  Undaunted, yet smart enough to realize that Christopher was sensitive where his wife was concerned, Ralph gave them all a slight bow and meandered back to his horse. Yet he would keep that bit of information tucked into his mind, for he was sure John would be interested in it. There was more than one way to control a seemingly uncontrollable man. Christopher watched Ralph mount his big warhorse and rein the animal about roughly.

  “I give you one week, baron,” he said loudly, more for the benefit of his men so they would not know that the baron had gotten the better of him. “One week to see you in London or I come back for you.”

  Christopher turned away, ordering the gates closed. Dustin, seeing that he was heading straight for her, bolted back inside the castle and raced madly for her rooms, desperately afraid he was going to spank her again. It was foolish to run from him, she knew, for he would only catch up to her, but she ran anyway. She was terrified.