Rise of the Defender (119 page)

     Christopher thought of his wife and his
smile went soft. “I have one of those on my hands, also. Stubborn, too.”

     Marianne saw his expression and was touched
by the love she saw in it. “Your wife? Surely not. A man of your station would
have the most obedient, perfect wife in the realm.”

     He laughed loudly. “My wife is the most
willful, disobedient, frustrating woman God ever saw fit to create. I cannot
count the times when we have fought over the simplest of things or the number
of times I have wanted to blister her backside. Actually, I did on one
occasion.”

     Marianne looked dismayed, but he could see
she was fighting off the giggles. “Say not so, my lord. Did you not know of her
nature before you married her?”

     “Nay,” Christopher relaxed on his pillow,
thinking back. “I did not know her at all, although I knew her father well.
Richard betrothed us and I had no choice but to marry her.”

     Marianne could hear the adoration in his
voice and she smiled. “How fortunate you married someone you could care for, my
lord. These days, 'tis truly a miracle to be fond of your mate.”

     Christopher eyed her. “Fond of her? Christ,
I love the woman. Why do you think I am so desperate to return to her?”

     Marianne touched his arm gently. “You
shall, my lord. I promise you shall. Tell me of this woman, your wife. I am
sure she is most beautiful.”

     He closed his eyes, picturing Dustin. “She
has blond hair that falls to her knees, silken, like spun gold. Her face is the
most beautiful on this earth, and her eyes are the color of storm clouds. An
amazing shade of gray, which our daughter has inherited.”

     “What's her name?” Marianne asked.

     “Dustin,” he said reverently. “Lady Dustin
Mary Catherine de Lohr.”

     ''Dustin? An unusual name,” Marianne
remarked “And your daughter? What is her name?”

     “Christin,” he replied. “What a devil she
is. Smart, too.”

     Marianne was truly touched by this massive
knight’s devotion to his family; he obviously adored them. Strange, she usually
pictured knights as God-fearing warriors, bound only to themselves and to the
king. But this man, Richard's champion no less, had a definite love for
something other than himself. The romantic, womanly part of her was fulfilled
somehow and she envied Lady Dustin his devotion. Not that Rob was any less
devoted to her and to their son, but he did not speak of them as Sir
Christopher spoke of his family.

     Later on that night, Lizabetha returned
with his supper and he suppressed a grin; she refused to sit down or even look
him in the eye as she tended him.
Poor thing
, he thought. Rejected and
spanked all in one day. When he was finished with the rabbit stew, he thanked
her politely and she nodded, backing out of the hut with as much dignity as she
could muster. He waited until he was sure she was out of earshot before falling
into a fit of giggles.

     Rob and Jonathan descended on him after
supper. They seemed very energetic and rousing, and he wondered why.

     “I hear you wish to stand, my lord.”
Jonathan said loudly. “God be praised. The sooner you are out of here, the
sooner I get my bed back.”

     Christopher raised his brows in agreement.
“True enough, sirrah. But I will need both of your help to stand, I am afraid.”

     Rob held out his hand to Christopher and he
looked at it hesitantly. “Now?”

     “Now,” said Rob. “No better time to start
anything than now.”

     With a shrug, Christopher allowed both men
to take him by the arms and slowly, gently, pull him to stand. But Christopher
was hunched over like a troll, breathing heavily and his knees wobbled like a
newborn foal.

     “This is not such a good thing,” he rasped.
“I think I am going to be ill.”

     “Nay, you are not,” Jonathan said firmly.
“Just rest a moment; the sickness will pass.”

     Christopher took several deep breaths and
his stomach eventually calmed, but his torso was as sore as if he had been working
it day and night for months on end. Shaking and gray, he gripped Rob and
Jonathan tightly.

     “All right, then,” he whispered. “Let's see
how tall I can stand.”

     By sheer force of willpower, he stood as
straight and tall as if he had never been injured. Both men were astonished to
see just how tall he truly was.

     “A damnable giant, you are.” Jonathan
boomed. “And I thought I was tall.”

     Christopher laughed a soft, weak snort. “I
feel as if I am on top of a tree, looking down. I'd gotten used to the view from
the ground up.”

     “Can you take a step?” Jonathan persisted.

     “One thing at a time, Jon,” Rob admonished
him. “The man is standing up for the first time in a month; give him time to
adjust.”

     Christopher cuffed Jonathan gently on the
side of the head. “I promise I shall be out of your bed as soon as I can,” he
said.                 “But right now, I think I would like to sit down again.”

CHAPTER
FORTY FIVE

     Marcus and Dustin left just after dawn.
Bundled up against the cold, she rode Hercules out of the massive gates, tears
stinging her eyes. David had left without a word before she had even awoken and
her heart was saddened. She suspected that Marcus knew the reason, but she
would ask him later. Now, as she left her home, was not the time.

     Alexander, George, Caesar and Christin were
huddled in a large, protected wagon, watched over by the wet nurse who would be
doubling as Christin's nursemaid. The woman was big and shy, and wet-nursing
was her vocation since her youngest child was twelve. Dustin had found it hard
to believe that the woman would like breastfeeding so much that she would
continue it for years on end. But she loved Christin and Marcus felt
comfortable with the woman, so he allowed her to accompany them to Somerhill.

     Marcus had remarked that the wagon looked
more like a zoo than a nursery, for the animals outnumbered the people, but
Dustin insisted on taking all of her animals. Especially Caesar; he was old but
she would not leave him behind as she had when she had left for London. She
wanted her oldest friend with her, and she needed him now more than ever.

     Richard saw them off, begging the privilege
of staying on at Lioncross a few more days to rest before returning to Windsor
and the troubles that awaited him there. Dustin was happy to comply, and Edward
was the perfect host. They had spoken privately earlier about her future plans
and Edward assured her that Lioncross would still be standing should she ever
choose to return. It was a bittersweet goodbye between them, for Edward seemed
to be the last of Christopher's knights who hadn't been affected by everything
that had happened.

     As she left the gates, Harold came racing
up beside her, barking furiously. Dustin almost went to pieces; Harold had not
accompanied Christopher on his fateful mission because the dog had been ill
after killing and eating a whole chicken. Christopher had been sorry not to
have his mascot and as Dustin looked down at the dog, all she could think about
was her husband falling and dying in battle without his dog there to comfort
him. Hot tears fell on the breast of her cloak as she tried to reason with
Harold to stay behind. He belonged at Lioncross, if for no other reason than to
protect Christopher's phantom. She truly believed the dog belonged there.

     Harold, remarkably, stopped at the gate and
sat down, still barking and wagging his tail as Dustin continued on. She
watched the little mongrel for a few moments, still waiting for him to follow
and pleased when he did not. Mayhap all of his barking was not asking to accompany
her; it was asking her to stay. Dashing away the remainder of her tears, she
turned forward and found Marcus smiling at her. She gave him a small smile and
lowered her gaze.

     Her last glimpse of Lioncross as they
crested the hill and turned north was amazingly clear and bright.  The sun was
out and the snow had melted, cleaning everything and making the world fresh and
new. Her heart lurched with longing and grief, but Marcus reached out and
touched her arm, murmuring encouraging words. With a resigned sigh, Dustin
turned her back on Christopher's home.  She never looked back.

     They stopped for the night and made camp.
Marcus and Sir Thomas Dudley, or “Dud” from their London days, rigged up an
excellent tent using the bed of the wagon for a bed, and Christin was asleep
next to the wet nurse as soon as Dustin lay her down. Marcus and Dustin then
shared a quiet supper later that evening as his men rigged several tarpaulins
to keep the moisture away through the night, and Dustin wondered if Marcus
expected her to sleep with him.

     She was not surprised to learn that he did
expect them to sleep together, giving her a myriad of sound reasons as to why
she should not sleep alone. Dustin begged off politely, saying she would rather
sleep in the wagon with her daughter. She could see that Marcus was
disappointed, but he graciously backed off and made sure she was given the very
best and thickest blankets. The knights retired for the night, as did the
men-at-arms, and the camp quieted rapidly, leaving Dustin and Marcus alone by
the camp fire.

     “Well, I am rather tired,” she said softly.
“I would retire now. Good-night, Marcus.”

     “Dustin,” he said quickly, pausing almost
uncomfortably when she turned around and looked at him. “Are you quite sure...
I mean, the tent would be less crowded and....”

     Dustin smiled faintly, shaking her head.
“Thank you, but no,” she replied, seeing that he truly was disappointed. She
understood his feelings, but he had to understand hers. “Marcus, I am simply
not ready for you. Your presence is comforting and I am grateful for your
generosity toward Christin and myself, but I am simply not ready for your
affections.”

     He kicked at the ground a moment,
embarrassed at his eagerness. “Is it that obvious? I am sorry, Dustin. I am not
trying to push you.”

     She walked over to him, putting her hand on
his arm. “I know you are not, but you are nonetheless. Give me time, Marcus. I
need time to heal.”

     He took her hand and put her palm to his
scratchy cheek, his cobalt-blue eyes soft. “I know you do. And I want to help
you, if I can. Dustin, I do so want to be close to you. I have always wanted to
be close to you.”

     She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You are
pushing again.”

     He pretended to slap himself in the head.
“Old habits die hard. Well, let's get you to bed.”

     He took her arm and started to lead her
toward the wagon when she suddenly stopped. She reconsidered sleeping with him
for a split second and the thought of massive, strong arms around her and a
warm body to snuggle against was very inviting. Lord, it had been so long since
Christopher had held her and there was a huge void inside her wishing to be
held and comforted. Marcus understood she was not giving him permission to
ravage her, and she was confident he would not. But lying in his arms, she
might even be strong enough to pretend it was Christopher; just for a moment.

     “I think you are right,” she turned her
face up to him.

     “About what?”

     “Sleeping under your protection. Plus, the
wagon is crowded. I will probably not sleep at all with the baby snoring and
the dogs in my face.”

     He looked surprised. “Are you sure?”

     She nodded slowly.  “Aye, I am.”

     Snuggled against Marcus was a thoroughly
cleansing experience, cleansing in that it helped dash some of her doubts and
fears about her future. She could close her eyes and feel his strength and it
helped her a great deal. But as she lay in his arms, she was equally sure of
one thing; she could never love Marcus Burton. She could be fond of him, bear
his children even, but she could never love him. Her love would always and
forever be Christopher's.

***

     The rest of the trip was uneventful, even
if the weather was miserable. After the first night they slept in each other’s
arms, Dustin found that her wall was up with him. Sleeping in his arms was well
enough, but he wanted more and she wasn’t willing to give more. So Dustin kept
her wall up between her and Marcus and the more her mind cleared, the more she
wondered just what in the hell she was doing with him.

     The plan to go to Somerhill had seemed so
positive from the beginning and she was sure that a change of scenery would be
the best thing for her, but as her wits returned, she missed Lioncross
terribly. With each mile passed, she regretted her decision more and more and
was forced to admit that David and Edward may have been right. She had acted in
haste, wanting some sort of relief from her grief but not knowing what, and she
took the first opportunity that arose.