Rise of the Defender (151 page)

     “Swear it?”

     “I do.”

     “Then take me home,” Dustin whispered
fervently, tears suddenly welling in the huge gray eyes.

     Christopher broke, rushing to her and
capturing her in his embrace with the passion and want and tenderness of the
ages. Her tears turned into full-blown sobs of joy as she felt him against her,
his face in her hair and his armor jabbing her with familiarity. He was here,
in her arms, and she would never leave him again. She was so choked with
emotion that her mind turned into a warm haze, where the only thing that mattered
was that he loved her. Her hair felt wet and it took her a moment to realize it
was due to her husband's tears.

     Time had no meaning as they held each
other, too consumed by emotion to speak. Christopher embraced his wife to him,
his eyes closed, smelling and feeling her to the very core of his soul. It was
a magical moment, the sweetest of times, and he did not even realize he was
rocking her slowly.

     “Why did you leave?” he managed a rasp
whisper.

     She sighed raggedly, pulling back from him.
Her hair, half of it out of the braid, was ensnared in the shoulder joints of
his armor. “Because you and Marcus were fighting,” she sniffled. “You were
fighting because of me. You hated each other because of me. I thought…thought
if mayhap I left, you would stop fighting. You would have no more reason to.”

     His hands gripped her face, swallowing her
head. “How could you think that?”

     She shook her head, lowering her gaze. “I
do not know. I was going to leave and never come back.”

     His sky-blue eyes bore into her. “Do you
hate me so much that you would be so desperate to escape me?”

     She choked on his words and her eyes
widened. “I do not hate you at all. I love you, Chris, but you should hate me
for causing you so much trouble.”

     It all became painfully clear to him why
she had left and he shook his head slowly. “Christ, Dustin. I could never hate
you, sweetheart, and in spite of your crazy ideas you have done absolutely
nothing to cause trouble,” his voice was infinitely tender. “I thought you ran
away for all of the pain and grief I had caused you. It was not easy on you to
think me dead, and it certainly unbalanced you when I returned. I thought you
hated me, sweetheart.”

     Her mouth opened in surprise. “Of course
not. Chris, I
love
you.”

     He let out a heavy sigh and pulled her to
him once again with all of the reverence and satisfaction he felt. He was so
terribly relieved that his body threatened to collapse on him. In fact, he
discovered that his hands were indeed shaking and it puzzled him. But he
continued to hold his wife and say a, silent prayer to God for her safety. So
what if there was a battle raging around them; they could do without their
Defender for a moment longer.

     Suddenly, the burned-out doorway was filled
with knights and Christopher looked up to see his brother standing in the door
way, his eyes wide.

     “What took you so long?” Christopher
demanded softly.

     David almost collapsed with relief. “Jesus
Chri....are you all right?” he asked, entering the destroyed  room. “Where in
the hell are Ralph and John?”

     “Ralph is dead but I do not know where John
is,” Christopher said, releasing his wife. “How goes the siege?”

     “Nottingham is ours,” David replied
confidently. “The mercenary troops are already disbanding. Say, who’s this
bastard in the hall?”

     “Some fool who was stupid enough to
challenge me,” Marcus replied, touching the puncture wound in his back.

     Gabrielle, on the opposite side of Marcus,
craned her neck around and let out a gasp of surprise. “Lord Bruce.”

     Dustin's eyes widened and she broke away
from Christopher, only to be met with the gory sight of her dead grandsire.
Christopher moved quickly behind her, afraid she was going to fall into fits,
but instead, she shook her head.

     “He got what he deserved,” she murmured,
turning to Marcus. “Thank you, Marcus. You did my mother and me a great
service.”

     “That is your grandfather?” Marcus repeated
incredulously, not sure whether to beg her forgiveness or acknowledge her
thanks. He looked to Christopher, who shook his head faintly.
Let it go.

     Most of Christopher's and Marcus' knights
were crowding the corridor, waiting for a command of action and wholly glad to
see Lady Dustin. It was Christopher who moved first.

     “Let's get the hell out of here, then,” he
said, his voice strangely dull.

     Marcus moved to escort Gabrielle, who made
a valiant attempt to walk but found her knees buckling. In an instant, she was
in Marcus' arms and he found himself gazing back at an extraordinarily lovely
woman. He truly hadn't noticed before. Gabrielle flushed and started to
apologize, but he shushed her.

     “You have had a time of it, my lady,” he
said, noticing the clear hazel of her eyes before tearing himself away. “I
consider it an honor to assist you.”

     He swept her out of the room, followed
closely by Dustin, Christopher and David. Yet suddenly, when they filtered into
the hall, Christopher came to an unsteady halt and weaved dangerously. Dustin
turned around to ask him what the matter was when he suddenly plummeted to his
knees.

     Dustin screamed and grabbed hold of one of
his massive arms. “What's wrong?”

     David and Edward were there, grave concern
written all over their faces. Christopher, breathing hard, ripped off his
helmet and sent it crashing before putting a hand over the left side of his
torso.

     “Goddamn wound is acting up again,” he
mumbled.

     “Wound? What wound?” Dustin demanded
severely. “Let me see it.”

     He tried to stop her, but she pushed his
shaking arms away and shoved his mail and armor aside. An oozing, puckered scar
the size of an apple confronted her and she gasped loudly.

     “What's this? How did this happen?” she
cried.

     “Shush, sweetheart, you are going to get
yourself all worked up,” Christopher said, his voice soft and a tired smile on
his face. “This, my love, is why I was away for three months. This is what
nearly killed me, and I see it is trying to accomplish its unfinished task.”

     Dustin’s pallor turned ashen and her hand
flew to her mouth. “Oh my dear God,” she whispered. “Oh, Chris, you have
reopened it. Are you going to die?”

     “Nay,” he said flatly. “All I need is some
rest and my wife by my side and I shall recover fully. “David, take Dustin.
Edward, help me to stand or we shall never make it out of this God-forsaken
place.”

CHAPTER
FIFTY NINE

     Dustin had never experienced such complete,
utter satisfaction as the army crested a small hill and Lioncross came into
view. Her home, Christopher's home, loomed in the distance and tears of relief
sprang to her eyes. Surely heaven was not as gracious and welcoming.

     Christopher viewed Lioncross with a great
deal of relief and joy, as well. A smile creased his lips as his gaze devoured
his lands, his keep. He had returned once more and he swore silently that,
barring any great catastrophe on Richard's part, he would never leave Lioncross
again. He was home to stay.

     Dustin rode in front of Christopher,
clutched against him as she had been the entire journey. He was exceptionally
weak, but he refused to let her ride alone. It had been far too long since he
had held her and he was determined to make up for lost time. Dustin reveled in
his touch, ignoring the jab of the armor and her own aching back. Wherever
Christopher was, she was content and comfortable.

     Everyone had accompanied them back to
Lioncross, save Richard. With his brother on the run, he was obliged to follow.
Pleased beyond words that the situation had righted itself and all was well
with his knights, he allowed Marcus and David only a few days’ time to
accompany the Defender home and then return to the troops. Christopher had
earned the right to recover fully at home and was therefore spared any further
service to subdue John. Considering the price the man had paid against the
prince, Richard was more than willing to be generous to his Defender.

     Christopher had learned that Richard's
first destination was Tickhill. With sincere earnest, the Defender fulfilled a
promise to the man who had saved his life and had pleaded the case of Lord
Robin of the Hood to the King of England. On pure faith from his Defenders
words and as a result of the gratitude he felt, Richard promised to fully look
into the charges and restore the earldom. Christopher could ask for no more
than that.

     Riding in front her Uncle David, Christin
crowed happily and chewed her hands as the army skirted the village en route to
the keep. Christopher and Dustin smiled over at the fat, happy cherub.

     “She looks more and more like you daily,”
Dustin commented.

     “Yet it would seem that she harbors your
characteristics,” Christopher replied, splaying his great hand on her belly.
“Mayhap this child will be like me.”

     “Ha!” David scoffed. “That will remain to
be seen. You shall probably have a house full of women before this is through,
every one of them like your wife.”

     Christopher raised an eyebrow as Dustin
chuckled. “Now where have I heard that threat before?”

     “'Tis no threat, sire, but a promise,”
Dustin snickered. “This child will be a girl.”

     “Christ,” Christopher muttered. “And just
what are you planning to name this spawn? Curtis?”

     “Nay.” Dustin insisted with a grin, passing
a glance at Gabrielle, seated in front of Marcus. “I was thinking on naming her
after a friend.”

     “Friend? What friend?” he asked.

     Dustin sighed with content and snuggled
back against him. “Lady Brielle de Lohr has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?”

     “Brielle?” he looked over his shoulder to
Gabrielle and Marcus, as well. “Ah, of course.

Tis a fine name.”

     The gates of Lioncross yawned open wide to
welcome home their lord and lady. Men were shouting and several peasants had
turned out to shout their welcome as the large company passed through the
gates. Christopher acknowledged the horde, so very glad to be home.

     Jeffrey and Max were there to greet them
and Christopher was immediately reminded of Anthony's death at the sight of his
brother. Edward rode close to Christopher, reading his thoughts.

     “I shall tell him,” he murmured to
Christopher.

     “He died in battle, Edward,” Christopher
said softly. “He died with a sword in his hand.”

     Edward nodded. To tell Max that Marcus had
killed his brother would surely create another battle, and it was best to omit
certain facts to the man in this case. Christopher was tired of battles.

     “What took so long?” Jeffrey greeted, a
rare smile on his face. “We thought you went on the bloody quest again.”

     Christopher reined his charger to a halt
and carefully lowered Dustin into Jeffrey's waiting arms. She surprised her
father's former captain by hugging him warmly.

     “Nay, no quest,” Christopher dismounted
stiffly, his wound was still tender and raw. “No more quest. No more war. No
more fighting of any kind anymore.”

     Jeffrey raised an eyebrow as Dustin walked
away from him, making a beeline for Deborah on the front steps of the keep.
Christopher watched his wife and sister embrace happily and he could hear their
chattering from where he was standing. Weary but happy, he turned to supervise
the dismantling of his troops when Jeffrey suddenly took hold of his arm.

     “I must speak with you immediately, my
lord,” the German said quietly.

     “What is it?” Christopher removed his
gauntlets.

     Jeffrey glanced at Dustin briefly. “You
have a visitor, my lord,” he said. “He arrived nearly three weeks ago.”

     Christopher looked puzzled. “Who?”

     Jeffrey cleared his throat. “Your son.”

     Christopher stared back at him. “My son?”
he repeated slowly. “What are you talking about?”

     “Peter Myles de Vries arrived with his
nurse and a male servant from France,” Jeffrey informed him. A missive
accompanied him from the Earl of Calais. It would seem that young Peter's
mother, a Lady Amanda, and her husband, had been killed in an accident and the
boy was orphaned. The earl felt himself too old to raise the lad and decided
the boy would be better off with his father.”

     Christopher was thunderstruck.
His son?
Here?
He closed his agape mouth. “Where is he?”

     “Out back, where your wife kept her
rabbits,” Jeffrey replied. “It would seem that the boy has a fondness for
rabbits, as well, and has already amassed a collection.”