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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “What’s wrong with him?” her husband demanded.

  “He does not like the way I am riding,” she told him between grunts of exertion. “He prefers me astride.

  Christopher didn’t answer, continuing to watch his wife closely and making sure he stayed clear of the flying hooves. After several minutes of fighting, Dustin finally pulled the animal to a halt.

  “Do you have a strip of leather I can use?” she asked, bailing from the animal and stroking his frothing nose. “Three feet or so should be enough.”

  David dismounted his steed and fumbled around in his saddlebags. He drew forth a length of rolled leather and handed it to her. Holding the horse’s head still as she tied the leather onto the chinstrap of the bridle, Dustin ran it between his front legs and secured it to the cinch of the saddle. The knights watched her work quickly and expertly, tying a knot as well as any man. When she was done, she stood back and tested the strength and length of the leather.

  “That should do well enough,” she said, motioning to David to help her mount.

  Christopher moved the company forward again. As before, Hercules danced and snorted and did fancy little sidesteps, but the strap she had secured under his chin kept him from throwing his head wild, saving Dustin’s strength and her hands and actually calming the horse a bit. When she was sure the steed was somewhat under control, she glanced up at her husband and saw that he was looking at her, although she could not see his face. She smiled anyway.

  Christopher was quite amazed with his little wife’s skill with the horse. She was such a paradox to him; sweet and feminine and more sensual than any woman he had ever known, and yet she could ride better than most men and she could fight like a ruffian. And the most wonderful thing was, he realized, that she belonged to him. He told her once that he would know everything about her but he wondered if he ever truly would.

  The rain was steady and they rode until after nightfall, when they came upon a small inn that looked as if it was leaning somewhat to the left. Everything sloped sideways. But it was presumably warm and dry. Christopher dismounted, ordering his men to set up a camp in the meadow adjacent to the inn, and made his way to his wife.

  Dustin sat atop Hercules as David and the other knights saw to the men and to the horses. She smiled wanly at her husband as he approached and held up his hands to her. Wearily, she slid into them.

  He lowered her to the ground, too busy making sure all was riding smoothly with his troops to notice much about her. He continued to give orders even as he opened the inn door for Dustin, finally quieting long enough to enter himself. He flipped up his visor, his blue eyes scanning the common room of the inn, which did not seem to lean as the outside structure would indicate. Smelling like unwashed bodies, the room was nonetheless dry. The innkeeper, a small man with a red face, dashed to greet his new guests.

  “My lord, my lady,” he said respectfully. “A room for ye on this miserable night?”

  “Indeed,” Christopher replied. “And for my knights as well. Three rooms should be adequate.”

  “Of course, my lord,” the man glanced at Dustin. “And a bath for your wife?”

  “She would be grateful,” Christopher said as the maids were hustled in by Leeton. The door slammed once more and Christopher turned back to the innkeeper. “But now, we would eat.”

  The innkeeper looked at Dustin again and Christopher wondered what the man found so interesting about her other than her obvious beauty. He finally looked at his wife and was appalled to see how pale she was. And she was soaked to the skin.

  “Christ,” he murmured. “Bath now, man, food later. Move.”

  The innkeeper jumped, yelling for his wife and for a bath to be prepared. Christopher put his arm around Dustin’s shoulders, following the man up the stairs and to the right. He led them down two doors and into a small but comfortable room.

  “The bath will be here shortly, my lord,” the man said.

  Christopher ripped off his gauntlets and set to removing Dustin’s hood and cloak. “Feed my men when they come in,” he ordered quietly. “My wife and I will take our meal in our room.”

  “As you wish, my lord,” the innkeeper backed out and closed the door.

  When he was gone, Christopher let out a hiss. “Dustin, why didn’t you tell me you were wet through?”

  Her teeth were chattering. “You….you told me no complaints.”

  He swore softly, pulling her wet cloak free and throwing it to the floor. “Take off your gloves, sweetheart,” he said.

  She held out her hands stiffly, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I can’t. My hands are too cold.”

  He loosened the fingers of her right glove and pulled, startled when she let out a stifled cry. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She looked sheepish, embarrassed that she was causing so much concern. When she didn’t reply, he gingerly pulled the glove free and saw her source of pain. Wrestling with the horse all afternoon had rendered her palms blistered, bloodied and raw. He clucked softly, examining her hands.

  “Oh, Dustin,” he murmured regretfully. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you told me not to complain,” she repeated. “Besides, I wanted to ride with you and the others. I do not like riding in the wagon.”

  He removed her other glove carefully, tossing it aside. There was a knock at the door and he went to open it, moving aside as a plump woman and three men brought in a large copper tub and began filling it with hot water. Dustin sank wearily on the nearest chair, waiting patiently while her bath was filled and wanting nothing more than to bathe and go to sleep. She was so exhausted that food had even lost its appeal.

  An inn maid came in, bearing linen towels and a large bar of soap. Christopher could see that she expected to stay, but he sternly chased everyone out, bolting the door behind them.

  “Stand up, sweet, let me get you out of that dress,” he said, approaching her once more.

  The dress, all the way down to the woolen shift, was wet. Her skin was pale and icy to the touch and he helped her into the tub, up to her neck in the hot water. The chill began to flee as she lay back, feeling her blood began to flow again. Reclining against the side of the tub, Dustin watched her husband remove his armor and the rest of his wet clothing, save his breeches. Then, he poured himself a cup of wine and faced her.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Much. My blood is warming.”

  He nodded, taking a sip of wine before holding the cup to her lips. She took a healthy drink, thanking him with an appreciative look. He smiled and crouched next to the tub, his eyes grazing her.

  “You will not be able to ride tomorrow with those hands,” he said. “I shall bind them up tonight and tomorrow you can wear your gloves over the wounds to protect them.”

  Her face fell. “But I want to ride with you. I have ridden with my hands worse than this, and…”

  “You can ride with me, sweetheart, in front of me,” he put in, cutting her off. “Any woman who would withstand such vicious hardships on my behalf I would not dare deny.”

  Relieved, she took another sip of wine and he noticed that her cheeks were regaining their color. There was a knock at the door then, and he rose on his long legs.

  “Who comes?” he demanded harshly.

  “ ’Tis us, milord,” came an older female voice. “Your wife’s maids.”

  He glanced at Dustin. “Are you content that I may go out and see to my men?”

  She nodded. “Verily, husband. I feel much better now.”

  He smiled faintly. “Good. I shall return later.”

  “Can we sup downstairs, in the common room?” She sat up in the tub, looking eager.

  His brows drew together. “What about your hands? And you must be exhausted, Dustin.”

  “Please?” she begged. “I have never supped at an inn before.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “There will be another time for that,” he said. “Tonight we will sup in ou
r room and go to bed early. I plan to be on the road to London before dawn.”

  Her expression went downcast but she didn’t argue the point. He was sorry that he had to refuse her, but he believed it would be best if they kept to themselves. He had seen the way she became when she was around his knights. She demanded to be entertained and loved the company. He could only imagine that she would find a way to stay up all night if they supped in the common room with the various travelers. She wouldn’t rest until she had talked to every one of them.

  He opened the door for the maids and the two plump women bustled in, their arms laden with items for Dustin. He had one of the women help him on with his hauberk and he shook the water off his helmet before shoving it on. He paused, turning to his wife where she sat in the great tub, one woman drying her hair with a towel and the other scrubbing her right calf and foot with soap and a horsehair brush. Their eyes met and she smiled.

  “I shall return shortly,” he said, opening the door and closing it quickly behind him.

  Dustin closed her eyes as the maid rubbed her head a bit too hard, yet her mind followed her husband back down the hall, down the stairs, and out into the elements. It was as if with every passing minute, she became more and more attached to him. If he were to suddenly leave her, she knew she would be utterly lost. She wondered if she clung to him because he was the only familiar person she had left and a recent acquaintance at that. But she also wondered if she clung to him because she felt more than simple fondness and comfort. Something told her it was much, much more.

  Christopher returned to the inn almost two hours later, sputtering water and saturated through and through. David, Leeton and Edward followed close behind him, slamming the heavy inn door to block out the harsh climate. They stood for a moment shaking water off them as the innkeeper approached eagerly.

  “Ready for your meal, good knights?” he asked anxiously.

  Christopher nodded. “My knights will take their meal down here, but I will eat with my wife in our room.”

  “We’re eating down here,” Dustin said from the top of the stairs.

  They all looked up at her as she descended the stairs, her damp blond hair flowing about her like a golden cape and dressed in a soft woolen surcoat of muted red. As simple as it was, it clung to her voluptuous form and Christopher was alternately admiring the picture she presented and highly irritated that she was disobeying his wishes. She approached him, the full skirt swirling about her and soaking up the water on the floor.

  “Dustin, I told you we would eat in our room,” he said evenly. Then he looked at his knights. “Take your meal.”

  “But I want to eat down here,” she said, helping David remove the mail gloves he was struggling with. “Please, Chris? It is much nicer than our cramped little room, and besides, I have been having the most wonderful conversation with the serving girl,” she pointed over her shoulder, “over there. Her name is Rachel.”

  Christopher flipped up his visor. “You have been in the common room conversing?”

  “Aye, I have,” she said, not registering his tone of voice. As she spoke, Christopher glanced around to the other occupants of the room. Three other knights sat at the far corner, partially obscured by the shadows. Three other tables were occupied by one or two men, most likely traveling merchants, but he was dismayed that his wife had been in the common room, unescorted, making a spectacle of herself. Her chatter roused him from his thoughts. “I ordered roast beef, and a beef and barley soup, and ale, and baked apples with honey and cinnamon. And do you know what else? The cook has a cat.”

  He looked at her, honestly stunned that she saw nothing wrong with her behavior. David, seeing his brother’s reaction, put his hand protectively on Dustin’s shoulder.

  “Well and good, my lady,” he said, eyeing his brother. “It sounds as if you have demanded a feast for us. Where would you have us sit?”

  Dustin indicated a long table already set with trenchers and pitchers of ale. As she and the knights moved towards it, Christopher’s shock moved to anger. He fought it down by telling himself that Dustin did not know of her transgression; he did not literally tell her that she could not go down into the common room. All he had told her was that they would eat in their rooms. She had disobeyed his wishes and for that, he would correct her. She was too headstrong for him to let it slide.

  Dustin had just sat down as Christopher came up behind her and pulled her chair back out. Grasping her arm, he pulled her up to stand.

  “We will take our meal in our room,” he repeated the order she had already heard, glancing to his knights. “You gentlemen continue your meal and we shall see you on the morrow.”

  Dustin looked stricken. “But…but I….”

  Firmly, he pulled her with him a step or two before the room was filled with a loud voice, directed at him.

  “De Lohr, I have never known you to force a woman to do your bidding.” The voice was deep and masculine. “What’s wrong, Lion’s Claw? Losing your touch with the fairer sex?”

  Christopher’s expression never wavered, but David, Leeton, and Edward stood immediately, hands on the hilts of their swords. Dustin’s eyes were wide, for she could sense the tension in the men. Christopher’s grip on her tightened.

  “Show yourself,” Christopher demanded steadily.

  “In good time,” the man said casually. “I cannot believe you do not recognize my voice, old man. You should. You heard it every day for three years.”

  Christopher didn’t look overly worried, but Dustin was growing terrified. He let go of his wife and moved closer to the man and his two companions. His manner was steady but his body was coiled, his hand close to the hilt of his sword.

  “I could scarce believe when you called that exquisite creature your wife,” the man continued. “How in the hell did you get to be so fortunate? I have been watching her for the better part of an hour and I can tell you, she is beyond believing. Where did you find her and, more importantly, does she have any sisters?”

  Christopher’s eyes glittered, his jaw was twitching underneath his beard. “Show yourself, bastard, or I shall cut your heart out.”

  After an eternal pause, the man rose on long, muscular legs. He straightened his armor, taking his time about it, before stepping forward into the light. Christopher was prepared to run the man through when the light fell on his face. Christopher’s eyes widened.

  “Burton!” he gasped in surprise. A smile crossed his face, with relief, and he took the extended hand in greeting. “Marcus Burton. What in the hell are you doing here?”

  Sir Marcus Burton shook his liege’s hand happily, his handsome face split in two with a wide smile.

  “Coming to see you,” he replied. “I was told your new seat is Lioncross Abbey.”

  “Indeed it is,” Christopher said, his eyes twinkling warmly. “Christ, are you a sight. Come and greet my brother and my wife.”

  Marcus followed Christopher to the table, greeting David with a slap to the head and punching Edward in the chest. He knew Leeton vaguely and greeted him civilly, yet when his eyes fell on Dustin, his manner seemed to grow warm and serious. Piercing blue eyes gazed upon her, the color of cobalt, and he had chiseled features with a crown of cropped black hair. Big and muscular, he was extremely handsome. The cobalt blue eyes were intense as Christopher introduced them.

  “Marcus, the woman you have been lusting after is my wife, Lady Dustin de Lohr,” Christopher said as he drew her forward. “Dustin, this is my closest friend, Sir Marcus Burton.”

  Marcus ripped off a mailed glove and took Dustin’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “My lady is too lovely for words,” he said smoothly. “Forgive my boldness, but you were indeed a pleasure to watch. Since I saw the baron leave to attend to his men, I found myself your personal protector should any of these merchants be foolish enough to force their attentions.”

  Dustin blushed deeply as he kissed her hand, smiling when Christopher snatched it away. Marcus laughed. “Since when
are you so damn possessive over a woman?” he snorted. “Jesus, Chris, with all of the woman that fawn over you….”

  Christopher cleared his throat loudly. “They aren’t my wife,” he said, giving Marcus a quelling look. “Lady Dustin is, and I appreciated you watching over her while I was indisposed.”

  “My pleasure,” Marcus said, his eyes once again on Dustin. “She needs watching over. Is she as disobedient as I gather she is?”

  Dustin flushed pink, wishing he would stop looking at her as if she was a prize mare. Christopher looked at her, too, but with a reproving gaze.

  “She is learning,” he said. “She is better than she was.”

  The other knights were sitting down and Marcus drew up a chair. Christopher, reluctantly, sat as well, drawing Dustin down beside him.

  “Tell me, Chris,” Marcus said as David and the other two began to chow down the food. “Where did you meet her? You have only been in England a week. Was she waiting for you? You never mentioned that you were betrothed.”

  Christopher removed his helmet, running a hand through his blond hair. “Dustin is Sir Arthur Barringdon’s daughter,” he said. “She, and Lioncross, were a gift from Richard.”

  Marcus nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes, Arthur was dying when I left,” he said softly. “The old man thought a good deal of you, Chris. So you married his daughter and gained the keep? An excellent arrangement. However, if I had known Arthur’s daughter was such a beauty, I would have vied for her myself.”

  He was talking about Dustin as if she weren’t even there and it irritated her. Since Christopher wasn’t eating, she didn’t either. She kept glancing at David as he gnawed away on a large beefy knuckle. He would glance at her every so often and smile.

  Christopher didn’t like Marcus’ callous attitude, either. But Marcus was deeply acquainted with the Christopher before Dustin, the Christopher who would use woman for his own pleasure and who considered them no more than a necessary nuisance. But this Christopher was disturbed by the references to his wife, and he was unnerved that Marcus’ words should upset him so. He felt unbalanced.