She felt rather foolish for bringing so many vain, feminine items, especially in lieu of the fact that she didn’t even know how to use the ocher, but she had them anyway. Just in case.
The cloak was terribly heavy as she slung it over her arm. Grabbing the small bag, she made her way to the door, her eyes lingering over her room, wondering when she would see it again.
There were so many memories that crept into her mind as she stood in the doorway; her father, her mother, Caesar, and Rebecca. So very many things, most of them happy, a few sad. And then came Christopher. It was almost as if there were two Dustins; one before the baron and one after.
With a faint smile, she closed the door, mentally trying to prepare herself for what lay ahead.
*
Edward waited for her in the foyer, helping her secure her cloak as well as any mother, making sure it was securely fastened around her neck to prevent any rain from seeping in. Smart man that he was, he retrieved a shawl from a serving wench and tied it around her shoulders and neck before securing the cloak, adding another layer of protection. Dustin simply stood still and let him fuss over her, glancing at his face now and again and thinking him to be a very handsome man. His eyes were the most amazing gold color, and his manner confident and business-like. She knew Christopher put a great deal of trust in Edward, as much as he did in David.
She was also to discover that Christopher had seen to every little detail of the journey. Things she could have quite easily arranged, he had done. Two maids were to accompany her, older women who had served her mother and had always made sure Dustin’s clothes were clean. She never had a maid of her own because she didn’t want or need one, yet in London, she suspected she would need the help. Young boys, pages or squires that Christopher had brought with him, were dashing about and helping the knights finish with details.
Edward left her standing in the open front door as he went to inform Christopher that Lady de Lohr was ready, and she had a chance to see for herself what a madhouse the bailey had become. Soldiers, she suspected easily over one hundred, were in loose ranks in the bailey being hounded by the pounding rain. The big destriers were being brought out by grooms, snorting and dancing and snapping at anything that moved. Behind them, she could see a groom leading out her lanky warmblood. She’d never even told her husband that she had a personal horse, he must have suspected. She wondered with a grin if he had spent his time looking for a little palfrey and not a big-boned gelding.
Her horse, a beautiful rich brown with four white stockings, was named Hercules by her father because the animal was uncannily strong. But the animal was attached to Dustin and she could handle him better than any other, including the stable master. Yet he looked as calm and docile as a kitten as the groomsman led him out behind the harried destriers. Fact was, he could probably hold his own in a fight with a destrier and most likely win.
Someone began shouting orders and she jumped, for the voice was as loud as the thunder overhead. Her eyes found the source of the shouting and she was not surprised to see Christopher commanding his soldiers to straighten their ranks. He was walking toward her as he bellowed, moving quite easily in his bulky armor, with David and Leeton making sure his orders were carried out.
She watched him with his men for the first time, pride filling her when she saw how easily he controlled them, and how they obviously respected him. The presence and power the man radiated was unlike anything she had ever seen. Her father had been a good soldier, but he was more of a politician than a warrior. She realized that watching Christopher with his men charged her with a peculiar sort of excitement.
He mounted the steps and she stepped back, rain pouring off of him as he stepped just inside the threshold.
“Edward says you are ready,” he said, his face and body soaked.
“I am, my lord,” she replied. Lord, the man was big and imposing when he was still in his command mode. She’d seen him in full armor many times, but never when he had been directly commanding his men. It was as if there were two different personalities in the same man.
He shook his head, water spatting on the floor. “I think you will ride in the wagon under a tarp for a while, at least until this godforsaken rain lets up.”
“I am not afraid of a little rain, my lord,” she said. “I have ridden through worse.”
“That was not a request, my lady.” He seemed preoccupied and harsh. “You will do as I say,” he turned and shouted to the nearest soldier. “Is the tarpaulin rigged on the large wagon?”
The affirmative reply came and he turned back to his wife. “Very well, then. Let us depart.”
She nodded, putting her hood up to protect herself from the downpour and making sure the heavy cloak was secured.
“Dustin,” he said softly.
Her eyes snapped up to him, aware of his tender tone. She was surprised to see him smiling down at her. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead he bent down and kissed her cheek, his wet helmet dripping water on her woolen hood.
“Come on,” he said hoarsely.
He gathered her up in his arms, groaning aloud with all of the weight she was carrying. “Christ, woman,” he pretended to huff. “You must weigh as much as I do.”
She giggled at his feigned misery, wrapping her thickly-bundled arms around his neck. He winked at her, grunting again as he carried her out into the driving weather.
The back of the wagon was actually arranged nicely. Soldiers had secured a large oiled tarp over the entire bed and then had spread out a coverlet on the floor of the wagon. There were even a few pillows, and Christopher deposited her on one of them. Dustin glanced about, noticing that the two maids were at the far end, surrounded by their belongings.
Dustin turned back to her husband. “This is most comfortable, my lord,” she said. “Did you really go through all this trouble for me? I could have just as easily rode Hercules.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You mean that monstrous horse? We shall discuss him at a later time, wife. I am not at all comfortable with you astride that leggy beast, although the stable master assures me that the animal is as gentle as one of your rabbits when you ride him.”
“He is gentle,” she insisted. “And if you had doubts, why did you bring him along?”
“Because if I did not, you would be arguing with me just as you are now,” he scowled at her, then flipped down his visor. “Make yourself comfortable, lady. ’Twill be a long ride until we stop for the night.”
She fought off a smile. “Christopher,” she beckoned him closer with her cocked finger.
He leaned down again. “What is it?”
Smiling now, she reached up and flipped up his visor, kissing him on the nose and then slamming his visor back down again.
“Nothing.”
Underneath his closed visor, he was smiling broadly. He straightened again and shook his head at her. “Nymph,” he muttered.
Dustin settled against the side of the wagon, feeling warm and dry as the rain poured all around her. Although she could not see him, she could hear Christopher giving orders and she sighed with satisfaction, looking forward to the days ahead.
*
The weather was absolutely hellish. The closer they drew to London, the more thunder and lightning set in. Dustin alternately dozed and read in the wagon, very dry when the rest of the party was soaked and chilled to their very bones. A few times, she peered out from underneath the tarp to see if she could catch a glimpse of her husband, but the wagons were positioned midway in the column of soldiers and it was impossible to see the knights at the very front. Not particularly disturbed, she simply settled in for the ride and tried to keep herself occupied.
It was nearly the middle of the afternoon when the wagons halted and Dustin sat up expectantly, hearing orders echoing in the distance of a voice she knew to be Christopher’s. She barely realized how excited she was to see him when suddenly he appeared beside her, his visor down on his massive helmet.
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�How does my lady fare?” he demanded lightly.
Dustin’s heart warmed. “Well, thank you, but I would like to stretch my legs a bit, if only for a moment.”
“That can be arranged.”
He held out a gloved hand to her and she placed her small hand in his, swinging her legs over the end of the wagon and standing on the mushy road. The other knights, all helmeted and looking quite alike, were suddenly standing around her and Christopher.
“The men are seeking shelter, as ordered,” David said. “Thank God for all of these trees.”
Christopher nodded. “At least it will provide them with some reprieve from the rain as they eat. As it is now, my wife and I will forge ahead and find our own bit of shelter.”
Christopher took a bag from one of the soldiers and moved to pick up Dustin, but she balked. “Can I please walk? I have boots to protect my feet from the water.”
He nodded, taking her hand instead and leading her into a big clump of trees. It was still damp, but they were clear from the driving rain under the heavy canopy.
Dustin stood eagerly while he opened the bag, she was famished. He handed her a wedge of cheese and chunk of bread and she accepted them happily. He watched her as she ate with gusto.
“How do you find the wagon?” he asked.
“Tiresome,” she replied, glancing at him. “Can I please ride with you?”
He pulled off his helmet with a grunt of satisfaction, his blond hair wavy with moisture. “Nay, ’tis too wet still. I would have you ride dry in the wagon.”
Dustin didn’t even know what feminine wiles were, but she had a fierce load of them. She had seen her mother use soft words and actions to persuade her father, and it almost always worked. Mayhap if she used the same cunning on her own husband, he would allow her to ride up front with him and his knights. She was bored silly in the wagon.
She moved over and casually brushed up against him. When he looked away from the bread in his hand, she smiled sweetly. “Please, Christopher, allow me to ride with you and your men? I… I miss you.”
He stopped chewing, gazing back into her gray eyes with some surprise.
“You do?” he managed to ask.
“Aye.” She thought about it now, realizing it was true. “Aye, I do. Can I please ride with you?”
He swallowed his bite. He would like nothing better than to have her ride with him, better still, literally ride in front of him. But he was soaked through and he knew she would become, too, if she rode in the open.
“Dustin, ’tis far too wet,” he said gently. “I must insist that you ride in the wagon.”
Miffed, she turned away from him and he was remorseful that he had denied her request. Yet, for her own health, he knew he must.
“Do not move away from me,” he ordered softly. “Come back.”
“Nay,” she snapped. “I will not.”
He reached out a long arm and grabbed her, pulling her back against him. She gasped at the swiftness of his action, her eyes wide and irritated at him. Yet the eyes that gazed back at her were soft and warm. “Tell me you miss me again.”
“Nay,” she said firmly.
A smile played on his lips. “Tell me.”
She tried to pull free but only succeeded in being held even tighter. “I won’t. One time is all you will hear.”
He leaned in, brushing her cheek with his rapidly filling-in beard. “Tell me, or I will scratch you to death.”
She felt the giggles rising, the beginnings of a game afoot. “Torture me with fire and stone, my lord, but I will never utter those words to you again.”
“You will,” his voice was soft and seductive. “Tell me you miss me, wife.”
His beard was scratching her neck, sending chills up her back and she struggled to pull away from him. “Never,” she vowed with a smile on her lips.
“You stubborn creature, tell me,” he insisted, his breath hot on her ear.
She pushed hard against his breastplate, managing to put a miniscule amount of distance between them. “I would hear the words from you, then, my lord.”
He suddenly pulled back, looking quite serious. “Nay, for it would be untrue.”
Her mirth drained and her mouth went agape. “What? You mean to tell me that you do not miss me?”
“Nay,” he said callously, looking over at his food as if he suddenly remembered it were still there. “Men do not miss their wives. Their wives miss them because it is right that they should.”
“Oh!” she gasped in outrage, slapping his hands from her. She managed to pull free from one hand and was staunchly fighting the other when he suddenly yanked her back to him again, so close that his face was a mere inch from her own. Dustin swallowed hard, suddenly forgetting her anger as his eyes bore into her.
“Where is your sense of humor, Lady de Lohr?” he whispered raggedly. “Of course I miss you. I ache for you. Why do you think I halted the column? My men need no rest. I did it so that I would be able to see you.”
A twinkle crept into her eye and her arms found their way around his neck of mail and armor. “You are an arrogant man, husband,” she said. “The most arrogant I have ever met. And cruel, too.”
He raised an eyebrow, holding her bundled body against his own. “Arrogant, absolutely. Cruel, mayhap. Christ, you weigh as much as a horse in all of this material.”
“Good,” she said with a smirk, knowing the dresses were indeed heavy, but with this man’s strength, they were practically nothing. “I hope I break your arms. Now, will you reconsider letting me ride with you?”
“Nay,” he said flatly.
Dustin didn’t want to hear that word, she didn’t like it. She pulled herself up, closer to him, and began to pepper his face with quick, hot kisses. “Please?” she kissed. “Please, and again, please?”
He started to return her kisses when his better sense grabbed him and he put his hands up to stop her. “Dustin,” he snapped, exasperated. “I said no. Do not harass me.”
She latched onto his earlobe, sucking it as he had suckled her nipples, simply because the action seemed erotic. “Please?”
Christ, sucking his earlobe nearly undid him. Had he possessed any less control, he would have thrown her to the ground and bedded her right there. Her hot little mouth would be his undoing, he knew it, for all he could think of was that same pink orifice on his manhood and he shuddered, trying desperately to bring himself back to the world at hand.
“Dustin,” he murmured, yet his arms were holding her fiercely. “Cease immediately.”
“Only if you allow me to ride with you,” she whispered, hot, into his ear.
He shuddered again, the exquisite torture too much and he knew she had won her battle. “Very well,” he relented. “Now cease at once.”
She released his earlobe and smiled broadly at him, her lips red from the activity. He rolled his eyes and kissed her hard.
“Do not ever do that again,” he said against her mouth. “ ’Tis a whore’s trick to use sex to gain your own end.”
She looked blankly at him and he knew she had no idea what he was talking about. “But you said I could ride with you,” she said.
There was no use arguing the point, at least not now. But he would have to educate her soon, for the power she held over him even now was overwhelming. Should she learn to use that power intelligently, he would be as much as mud in her hands. It was a frightening thought.
He lowered her to the ground, helping her secure the hood of her cloak before putting his helmet back on. Then he looked sternly at her. “Well, come, wife. But if you soak to the skin, I do not want to hear a word of complaint.”
“I promise, not a word,” she said, biting her lip to keep from grinning. “Thank you for your graciousness, my lord.”
He snorted in reply, gathering the empty bag and leading her carefully out of the trees and back into the harsh rain.
Dustin stood with David and Leeton as Christopher ordered Hercules brought forth. The warmblood was as
tall as the destriers, his big brown eyes soft and liquid. Dustin went to the animal, hugging his great head and the horse pressed into her. Christopher shook his head faintly; she treated the horse just like she treated that damnable cat.
She moved around to mount and Christopher held out his hands to act as her boost. Putting her left knee into the sling of his interlaced fingers, she propelled herself up onto the animal and immediately swung her right leg over the pommel of the saddle. Even with all of the skirts and undergarment, Christopher saw that she was riding astride, as a man does.
He scowled in disbelief. “What are you doing?”
She looked completely innocent. “What do you mean?”
“Dustin,” he lowered his voice. “I realize that you are used to riding astride, but you will not ride that way today. Both legs on the left, please.”
She stared back at him, but she was already complying. “But ’tis easier for me to ride him astride. Hercules is used to me riding him that way.”
“That may well be, but you will ride as a proper lady in the company of my men,” his voice was low and patient. “You are my wife and I will not allow you to be seen in such an indecent position.”
She honestly could not fathom his outrage, yet she knew that true ladies did not ride astride. Nodding compliantly, she tried to position herself comfortably and gathered her reins. With a lingering look, Christopher lowered his visor and moved to his own mount.
When the column moved forward, Hercules turned from a docile creature into a snorting, dancing beast that tried to throw his mistress off every few steps. Dustin struggled with the animal, shortening his reins tightly to give him less of a chance to throw his head around and to give her better control. Even as the big animal fought and grunted, she remained very much in control and rode him quite ably. Christopher and the others watched her closely, quite concerned for her safety, but were nonetheless very impressed by her skill.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 25
