Rise of the Defender (26 page)

     His wife did not seem particularly
interested in his presence even though he tried to strike up a conversation. 
Several times, in fact.  After the fourth or fifth attempt, he lost count,
stopped trying, and excused himself. He should have ordered Jeffrey to leave as
well, but the situation was tense enough as it was and he didn't want to make
things worse. As he went about his business, he set Anthony to watch the two of
them at a discreet distance.

     He had nearly devoured his meal and was
waving the serving wench to bring him more when his eyes suddenly caught a
vision at the top of the stairs. His gaze trailed upward and he stopped in
mid-chew, surprised and pleased to see his wife descending the stairs, dressed in
one of the new surcoats he had retrieved that day. He had left the surcoats in
her room, half expecting to never see them again, and pleased that he had been
wrong.

     He and the other knights rose as she
approached. “I am pleased that you have decided to join us, Lady de Lohr,” he
said graciously, kicking David out of the chair immediately to his left and
pulling it out for her. “Please, sit.”

     Without a word, Dustin accepted the chair
and sat. Two serving women attended her with food and drink, and the knights
sat.

     Christopher could not take his eyes off
her. She was wearing a striking sapphire blue that complemented her eyes and
complexion beautifully. Her hair, long and straight and silky, was free down
her back and he spent so much time looking at her that it took him a moment to
realize she had yet to look at him.

     He was puzzled with her behavior. He had
been sure that everything had been said between them that morning and that they
were stronger for it, but he was forced to admit that mayhap he was wrong. She
was brooding and quiet and he hated to admit that it concerned him.

     “The beef is delicious,” he remarked as she
chewed.

     Dustin swallowed, nodding. He watched her
drink from her cup and take another bite, still not speaking. He respected her silence
and returned to his food.

     “I have never been this close to Wales,”
Edward piped up from across the table. “Tell me, my lady, when does winter set
in?”

     Dustin’s haunting gray eyes turned to him. “Soon,
my lord,” she said. “By late October we will have snow, and will most likely
last through February or March. Being so close to the mountains, our weather is
always more severe.”

     “Snow,” David sighed. “It has been three
long years since I have seen it. There were days in the scorching heat I would
dream of it.”

     Dustin looked at her brother-in-law. “The
cook gathers great bowlfuls and pours fruit juice or honey on it for a treat.”

     David smiled at her. “I am looking forward
to it.”

     Dustin grinned back. “As do I, but father
said I would freeze to death eating flavored snow when it was all we could do
to keep the great room a little above freezing itself.”

     Christopher watched his brother and wife smile
at each other and felt a peculiar twinge deep in his chest. But he said nothing,
knowing wisely that he would spoil the mood.

     “I hear you have a cat, my lady,” Leeton
said, sitting opposite her.

     “Aye, my lord, a big fat stripped cat,” she
nodded. “His name is Caesar because he rules this house and hold.”

     Leeton nodded. “I have seen him, skulking
about. Not a particularly friendly animal.”

     “He is,” she looked directly at Christopher,
he thought, accusingly. “He is quite fond of the baron.

     Christopher snorted into his goblet. “Ask
me not why, for I do not know. He has taken a liking to me and I am at a loss
to explain it.”

     “They say predators think alike, Chris,”
Edward said dryly.

     Christopher nodded, the joke at his
expense. “Which is why you and I get along so well.”

     The banter from that point on was light and
amusing, although Dustin and Christopher never directly addressed one another.
She spent most of her time listening and feeling her mood lighten, and it
wasn’t long before she seemed to pull out of her mood.

     Dustin had indeed been brooding, although
she truly didn't know why. She only knew that ever since Christopher had kissed
her, she had been confused and disoriented. She had liked it and she had been
willing to submit to him without a fight, and that had frightened her. Why had
she relented so easily? What was the power the man had over her with just a
simple touch? She didn’t understand what her body was telling her.

     The safest thing, she decided, until she
could figure out her mind, was to stay a safe distance away from him. It wasn’t
that she was angry with him, but the feelings he awakened within her scared her
and her fear kept her aloof.

     The idea that scared her the most was the
fact that she wanted him to care for her. She wanted him to like her, to
protect her, to need her. He had told her that he did care for her, and even
when she heard it, it was as if she didn't want to hear it. It was as if the
stubborn, independent female inside her was fighting with the soft, willing
woman that was begging to be let out.

     The meal passed and even when the food was
cleared and the senior officers left, and the knights were enjoying their wine
and stories and she found that she was enjoying the company too much to leave.
She was increasingly aware of Christopher’s gaze on her but she tried
desperately to ignore him. She didn’t know what to say to him.

     Two of the kitchen servants who also
doubled as minstrels began to play their wooden flutes and Dustin listened
dreamily to their soft ballad. David tried to get her to dance, twice, but she
refused. She honestly didn’t know how to dance very well and she would not
embarrass herself. She’d never liked to dance.

     The more they drank, the louder and wilder
the stories became and the more amused Dustin became. She listened to the de
Velt twins recall a particularly comical adventure they had shared and she
laughed until tears came to her eyes. Max and Anthony were not the brightest
men in the room, but they were gifted storytellers and she enjoyed their antics.

     As Dustin loosened up, Christopher nursed
his third watered wine. He sat back in his chair, smiling as he listened to his
knights and watching his wife's reaction. She giggled and joked, endearing
herself to men who had only seen her belligerent and surly side. This was the
Dustin he wanted to know, to be a part of. He hoped to talk to her again before
she retired for the night and was preparing his strategy when several of his
soldiers entered the smoky hall. Christopher and the other knights were immediately
on-guard as a senior soldier saluted his liege.

     “Trouble in the village, my lord,” the man
said.

     “What sort of trouble?” Christopher
demanded.

     The soldier’s gaze flicked in Dustin’s
direction. “It seems that a young woman and her mother have been killed, and
the entire village is in an uproar,” he said.  “’Tis said that the young woman
was a friend of your wife’s.”

     Dustin shot up from her chair in a panic. “Who
is it? Who was killed?”

     The soldier was hesitant, looking to
Christopher for direction. “I…,” he stammered. “I am not certain. They could be
wrong, of course.”

     Christopher could see the man’s reluctance
but he needed answers. “Who have they said was killed?”

     The soldier sighed faintly, knowing he had
no choice but to relay what he had heard. “Comlynn,” he said after a moment. “I
was told her name was Comlynn.”

     Dustin’s hands flew to her mouth.
“Rebecca?” she gasped.

     Christopher looked at her with great
concern, instinctively reaching out to steady her. “Steady, lady,” he murmured
firmly before looking to his knights. “Mount your steeds. We ride.”

     The great hall turned into a shifting
company of men, all moving purposefully to do their liege’s bidding, but
Christopher wasn’t paying much attention to them. He was more concerned with
his wife, who had quickly dissolved into tears of fright. Not wanting to leave
her, alone and terrified, standing in the great hall, he swept her into his
arms and carried her up to her bower.

     Once in her chamber, he set her down on the
floor but still kept a strong grip on her arms. She was gasping and crying, her
face as white as snow. She didn’t try to pull away from him or fight him,
rather, she seemed afraid to let him go.

     “Christopher.” she gasped. “It cannot be
true.”

     He felt terrible for her, losing her
father, her mother, and now her close friend all within a few days. His huge
hands cupped her face.

     “I shall go see, sweetheart, I promise,” he
soothed her. “I shall see to your friend.”

     Her hands were gripping his wrists, her big
gray eyes gazing up at him. “I would come.”

     He shook his head. “Nay, you will stay here
and wait for me,” he said calmly. “I shan’t be long.”

     “Please,” she begged. “I want to come. I
must see for myself.”

     “Dustin, you will not, you will stay here,”
he pulled her to him fiercely, holding her to stop her struggles and comfort
her. “I promise I will return quickly. I want you to stay here and calm
yourself. The soldier could be wrong, you know.

     Those seven words calmed her considerably.
Her crying lessened but she still clung to him, her face buried in his tunic.
He stroked her hair, her back and arms, unwilling to leave her until he was
sure she was calming. When he felt her breathing slow, he pulled back and
looked at her.

     “I will go now,” he said softly. “But I
shall return. Promise me you will not leave your room.”

     She nodded unsteadily, her face wet and her
lashes spiky with tears. She looked so pitiful that his heart went out to her
and he leaned down, gently kissing on the cheek.

     Dustin’s hand went instinctively to the
spot he had touched. She could still feel his lips there, soft and sweet.  It
had been a tender act, one of unspoken warmth, and as she continued to gaze up
at him, somewhat awed by the gesture, he winked at her.

     “I shall return,” he said simply and quit
the room.

     She sat on her bed and waited.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

     Rebecca wasn’t simply killed, she was
massacred. When Christopher entered the small hut, he was assaulted by blood
everywhere, all over the walls, all over the floor. His stomach turned at the
sight, but only on behalf of his wife. Her worst fears had just been confirmed.

     Rebecca’s mother was in the smaller room,
tied to one of the posts and all but gutted. Her blood coated the floor and
Christopher was sure she was completely drained of it. Whoever had done the
horrifying deed seemed to have done it with particular malice, for the woman
was so chopped up that she was barely in one piece. That sort of anger
indicated madness.

     But the sight of Rebecca, in the alcove
where the beds were, disturbed him greatly. Whoever had killed her had done it
with such viciousness that even a hardened warrior like Christopher was taken
aback. David and Edward, having arrived several minutes earlier, had already
had a chance to examine the body.

     “What devil did this?” David muttered, gazing
down at the corpse.

     Christopher motioned at her. “Her throat is
cut,” he commented. “And it looks as if she had been gutted.

     “Look at this,” Edward lifted her wrist. “She
is missing a few fingers. This woman was tortured, Chris.”

     Christopher let out a sigh of disgust. “Why
in the hell would anyone torture this woman?” he wondered aloud. “What could
they possibly gain by it?”

     David flipped up her skirts, revealing
bloodied thighs. “She was raped, too.”

     “Christ,” Christopher muttered, looking
hard before turning away, crossing himself. “Whatever you do, do not tell Dustin
that. God be merciful.”

     The knights stood silently over the young
woman, saddened at such a waste and feeling for the baron’s wife. Christopher
took a moment to compose himself before turning around once more and reaching
down to gently pull Rebecca’s skirts back over her legs. With a sigh of regret,
he reached down and picked up the stiffening body.