Rise of the Defender (51 page)

     “Is that what you plan to do?” he asked
quietly.

     “Nay,” Christopher replied, as steadily as
he could manage. “But I would like to know why you lied to me.”

     Marcus sighed faintly and averted his gaze.
“I do not recall lying to you, Chris,” he said softly. “Specifically, I told
you I did not ravage your wife, and I didn't. We shared a small, stolen kiss
for which I am completely guilty, and nothing more. It was over almost before
it began.”

     Christopher's big body tensed as he studied
Marcus' profile, but it occurred to him that he was right. He never actually
denied kissing Dustin; he only denied ravaging her. His anger was fed because
of the small technicality upon which Marcus was basing his answer.

     “Why, Marcus?” he finally managed to
whisper, his pain breaking through and hating the fact that he sounded so hurt.
“Why did you do this?”

     Marcus met his liege's eyes, his composure
slipping because of what he heard in Christopher's tone.

     “I do not know,” he murmured. “Mayhap the
three days I spent with your wife proved to be too much for me. I told you I
thought she was absolutely beautiful, and I believe my infatuation with her got
the better of me. I cannot tell you how sorry I am, Chris, for everything. You know
me well enough to know I am an honorable man.”

     “I thought I did,” Christopher said. “I
trusted you and you betrayed me.”

     Marcus’ jaw ticked with the severity of his
words. “’Twas never my intention. I can only beg your forgiveness.”

     Christopher held his gaze a moment longer
before looking away. Marcus, too, looked away, his eyes distant and painful.

     “Do you have feelings for my wife?”
Christopher asked quietly.

    
Of course I do
. Marcus had been
grappling with them ever since he kissed her. But he had a suspicion that this
honesty would not be well received.

     “’Twould be futile, my lord, for she cares
only for you,” he said quietly, “and I am a man unaccustomed to futility.”

     “Pretty words, Marcus, even for you,”
Christopher said. “But you did not answer me.”

     Marcus sighed softly, forming his answer
carefully. “I told you that I am infatuated with her, but that is all. It will
pass.”

     “What if it does not?” Christopher asked.
“Will I find myself being challenged by you in the future, the prize being my
wife?”

     “Nay, my lord, I would never do that,”
Marcus insisted softly.  “She is your wife, in the eyes of God and England. I
would not, nor could I, take her from you.”

     Christopher was more hurt now than when he
had entered the room. His anger was banking, manifesting itself into sorrow. He
had trusted this man, his dearest friend, and he had been betrayed.

     “Do you love her, Chris?” Marcus asked
after a moment.

     Christopher didn't look at hm. “I do not
see how that is any of your affair.”

     “It isn't,” Marcus said. “But I think had
this incident been more a matter of pure honor, I would be lying on the floor
right now in a pool of blood. Yet I see a look in your eye now that I have
never seen before, a great pain. If you did not love her, you wouldn't be so
agonized nor indecisive.”

     Christopher clenched his teeth. “She is my
wife, Marcus. Of course I am hurt by this, but at least she confessed. I had to
drag it out of you.”

     Marcus knew that was the closest thing to
an admission as he would get. “Shall I seek another liege?”

     “Nay,” Christopher said shortly, regaining
some of his composure. “I need you, Marcus, and we must hold together if for
nothing else than for Richard's sake. No woman will drive us apart.”

     Marcus bowed shortly. “As you say, my lord.”

     The air between them grew stiff and formal,
as if there was an understanding between them yet the camaraderie had vanished.
Christopher was distrustful of Marcus' intentions, and Marcus resented his
liege for the one thing he truly desired - his wife.  It was a horrible
circumstance, one they both struggled with. 

     From the best of friends to distrustful
comrades, the fall from grace was a painful thing, indeed.

***

     Later on that evening, Marcus walked alone
through the corridor heading toward his chamber, feeling distinctly saddened
and ashamed.  He was so caught up in his thoughts, wandering, that he was
genuinely shocked to see Dustin emerge from the darkened corridor.

     Dustin came upon Marcus, her beautiful face
pale and furrowed. She was dressed in some sort of simple surcoat, wrapped in a
heavy shawl. She looked ill and lost.

     “Dustin?” he asked softly, deeply puzzled.
“What in the hell are you doing out here? Where's Chris?”

     “I do not know,” she said wearily. “He has
not returned and I was concerned. Are you all right?”

     She was looking him over for injury and he
knew what she meant. “I am fine,” Marcus reached out and took her arm, turning
her around in the direction she had come. “Let me take you back.”

     Dustin allowed him to lead her back down
the hall. Truth was, she was feeling terrible and sickened, and was grateful
for the assistance. But she was desperate to find Christopher for he had left
so abruptly that she was terribly worried.

     “I told him,” she said softly, leaning into
his arm. “I am sorry, but I had to. 'Twasn't fair to lie to him.”

     “I know,” Marcus replied quietly. “We have
spoken of it.”

     “Does he hate you?” Dustin looked up at
him. “He hates me, you know. Left me alone in our room. He just… left. He never
even wanted a wife and I am sure now that he is doubly sorry.”

     Marcus shook his head. “That is nonsense,”
he said, helping her up the stairs. “He does not hate you, and he does not hate
me. He is grieved, ‘tis all.”

     “He took a serving wench to his bed right
after we were married, you know,” she mumbled, tired and defeated. “When I
found out I was hysterical. He hadn't even bedded me yet, but I forgave him.
Why can he not forgive me?”

     “He will, Dustin,” Marcus murmured. “He
will forgive us in time.”

     She stumbled and he paused, lifting her
into his big arms and carrying her the rest of the way down the hall. There
were several soldiers in the hall and Marcus lay into them.

     “Who's in charge?” he bellowed.

     The soldiers snapped to attention, the
voice of Sir Marcus Burton sending bolts of fear through them.

     “Crag Armitage.” One soldier replied
firmly. “He is inside with the baron now, my lord.”

     Without another word, Marcus pushed past
the soldiers and kicked open the door to the antechamber.

     Christopher was reaming the unfortunate
sergeant as Marcus breezed in with Dustin cradled in his arms. One look at
Marcus holding his wife and Christopher practically kicked the soldier out, his
face contorted with rage.

     “What do you do?” he demanded ferociously.

     “I found her wandering the halls
downstairs,” Marcus replied steadily. “She's exhausted.”

     Christopher snatched Dustin from Marcus’
arms, setting her down roughly and she stumbled, falling back even as he
reached out to steady her. But his attention, his anger, was solely focused on
Marcus.  Veins were bulging and his outrage had reached its limit. It began to
overflow, spilling out all over the place, and Christopher spoke before he
could think about what he was truly saying.

     “You are dismissed, Burton,” he growled.

     Marcus' eyebrows rose, off-guard. “I… what
did you say?”

     “You heard me,” Christopher snapped. “You
are dismissed from my corp. I want you away from Windsor, and away from my
wife. If I ever see you again, I will kill you.”

     Marcus' dander rose, fury to match Christopher’s. 
“For what? For God's sake, Chris, I was just....”

     Christopher cut him off. “You will address
me as ‘my lord’ from now on,” he roared. “Get out of my sight, Burton, or so
help me, I shall drop you where you stand.

     Marcus’ expression turned deadly. “You may
try, my lord,” he said in a low voice, “but I will defend myself wholly, for I
have done nothing wrong.”

     “You have done nothing but covet my wife
and break God's holy commandment,” Christopher seethed. “If the only way I can
keep you away from her is to banish you from my sight and service, then so be
it.”

     Marcus was stunned. He stared back at the
baron in complete disbelief, not wanting to believe his words. He finally shook
his head slowly.

     “You are mad.” he hissed. “Would you have
preferred that I left her wandering the halls for John or Ralph to find?”

     “Get out,” Christopher turned his back on
his former friend and knight. He could not stomach the sight of him anymore. 
“I have nothing more to say to you.”

     Dustin, having sat in shocked silence
throughout the exchange, suddenly found her voice. “You are not being fair,
Chris,” she said. “Marcus did nothing.”

     “Nothing but lie to me, nothing but covet
you,” he whirled around to Marcus again. “Is there anything else you have
failed to mention? I never asked you if you bedded my wife back at the inn. Did
you?”

     “I told you he didn't,” Dustin insisted.

     “And I swore to you on the Holy Bible that
I never touched your wife in that manner,” Marcus said. “I can do no more than
that.”

     “What you have done is driven an
irreversible wedge in Richard's loyalists.” Christopher said. “You always were
a womanizer but I never believed that you would stoop so low as to pursue my
own wife. 'Tis your own actions you must blame for this.”

     “And what of you.” Marcus shot back, his
massive body rigid. “How dare you speak of betrayal when you saw it fit to bed
a serving wench after you had taken your vows with your wife. Mayhap you are
ignoring your own guilt by focusing on me.”

     Christopher's eyes widened, cut down by the
information, now used against him. It had been a weak moment that was coming
back to haunt him. But he stood his ground. “I have no guilt.” he insisted, jaw
ticking. “Dustin has forgiven me, which is of no concern to you.”

     Marcus was still posturing furiously. “It
is not my concern, but you stand here accusing me of a heinous crime when, in
fact, 'twas a kiss I stole. I did not bed the woman.” He jabbed a finger at
Christopher. “How dare you act the hypocrite!”

     “You are jealous,” Christopher said as if
the entire concept had just dawned on him. “You are jealous of me, of my titles
and land, and of my wife. Aren't you? So you intend to destroy what you cannot
have.”

     “Stop it!” Dustin shrieked. “Listen to what
you are saying!”

     They were ignoring her, their eyes spitting
venom at each other. Finally, Marcus turned for the door. He was afraid of what
would happen if he didn’t. Dustin, her hands on her mouth, took a few timid
steps after him.

     “Please, Marcus,” she pleaded softly. “He did
not mean it.”

     “Leave him alone, Dustin.” Christopher
snapped, turning his back on Marcus. “He must go.”

     She backed off, her eyes extending a
thousand apologies to Marcus. He gazed at her, his body riddled with pain and
jealousy, wishing he could take her with him, but more concerned with the
ending of his relationship with Christopher. He simply could not believe what
was happening. Shocked and furious, he quit the room.

     When he was gone, Dustin turned her
tear-streaked face to her husband. “How could you do that?” she demanded. “You
had no reason!”

     He didn't answer her, leaning against the
wall and staring out of the window into the night.  His jaw was still ticking,
beads of sweat on his forehead. He was angered and sickened, devastated and
grieved.  He was so much at the moment that he couldn’t single out one
particular hurt. It was all hurt.

     “Go to bed, Dustin,” he said finally.

     Devastated, Dustin let her wrap fall to the
floor and she wandered woodenly toward the bedchamber door. She paused a moment,
trying to think of something to say, but no words would come. All she knew is
that something horrible had happened this night, and she was responsible for
it.

     If there was any doubt that he hated her
before, there was none now.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

     Marcus, furious and irrational, found
himself wandering aimlessly through Windsor's great corridors. All of his
senses were reeling, his mind focused on Christopher's rage and words, and
wondering if he should return to protect Dustin from his wrath. Yet he knew the
anger was focused on him and him alone, and that hurt him to the core. A moment
of weakness would apparently cost him what he had worked for all his life.