Rise of the Defender (56 page)

     “Absolutely, sire,” Ralph agreed.
“Especially with winter coming, who would want to brave south Wales? We could
keep her there comfortably for months.”

     John was suddenly not so angry that he lost
the game. His hard brown eyes found Ralph. “Make it so, Ralph. And no mistakes
this time.”

     Ralph nodded. “Trust me, sire. Lady de Lohr
is as good as ours.''

***

     Dustin waited patiently while her husband
conversed with the stable master, looking about the stables with interest.
Christopher had his back turned to her and she wandered a few feet away,
watching the people and the children, hearing the dog's bark and the horse's
bray.

     Absently, she began to wander slowly,
noticing everything and smiling shyly when a groom would give her a bow or a
nod. She stopped for a moment to admire a particularly beautiful black gelding,
trading a few words with the groom before continuing on, completely forgetting
about her husband. She was filled with the stables and the smell of horses and
hay.

     She rounded a corner and paused to study
the reddest chestnut she had ever seen when suddenly she heard tiny little
squeaks, like pathetic whimpers. The sounds grew louder and she followed them,
mounting a ladder to the hay loft curiously. It was there she found the source
of the sounds, three tiny pups flailing about in the hay.

     She cried out softly and crawled across the
dried grass, taking the first friendly puppy she came upon and cuddling him
sweetly. His brothers, seeing movement, stumbled toward her.

     She studied the pups, noting from their
teeth and eyes that they were five or six weeks old. She cradled a short-legged
blond puppy, while his siblings were black with white and all brown,
respectively. It was no time before they were crawling all over her, snagging
her surcoat with their sharp baby claws and she was thoroughly delighted. She
wondered where the Mama dog was, the straw was dented and a little dirty, but
the pups were thin. She decided that the mother must have abandoned them and
the pups were obviously too small to find then way down from the loft. As she
cuddled and cooed, she heard her name being shouted loudly.

     “I am here.” she called out.

     Christopher didn't answer for a minute,
marching into the stables with the rage of the devil. “Where?” he boomed.

     “Up here,” she answered, looking down. He
was directly below her.

     He heard her voice and looked up, seeing
her through the slats and the hay. “What in the hell are you doing?” he
demanded. “Dustin, you know better than to wander off.”

     “Come to the ladder,” she said softly. “And
hold up your hands.”

     “What?” he scowled, putting his hands on
his hips.

     “Please, Chris, just come to the ladder,”
she said, picking up all three pups. “Hold up your hands.”

     With a snort of annoyance, he came around
and mounted the first step of the ladder, holding up a hand as requested.
Dustin scooted to the edge of the opening and handed the first puppy, the black
and white one, down into his mailed glove.

     “Christ.” he hissed, clutching the puppy
quickly to him so he would not drop it. “What is this?”

     She put her feet on the top rung of the
ladder, holding two puppies in one hand. “I found them up here. Their mother must
have abandoned them. Aren't they cute?”

     “Delightful,” he said dryly, noticing that
she was trying to descend the ladder with one of her hands occupied. “Hold,
lady. Give me those mongrels before you fall and break your neck.”

     Carefully, she handed the two down to him
and quickly took the ladder, taking back the pups she had given him gently. He
continued to hold the black and white, eyeing it critically.

     “And what, I am afraid to ask, are you
planning to do with these rats?” he asked sternly.

     She turned her wide, innocent eyes to him.
“Keep them, of course. I miss Caesar so, and holding them helps ease the pain a
little.”

     He bit his tongue. Every negative word he
was about to say simply slipped away and he could not deny her. Exasperated at
her, and at his own weakness, he put his huge hand on her back and guided her
from the stable.

     “Where will they sleep? Surely not in our
bed,” he said.

     “Nay, I will make them beds of their own,”
she said, rubbing noses with little blond puppy. “I think I will call this one
Alex, in honor of Alexander the Great. And this one,” she nuzzled the brown
puppy with the long legs,” I will call Cabal.”

     He cocked an eyebrow at her. “King Arthur's
dog? A sound name, though he does not look deserving enough.”

     She pursed her lips at him in irritation
and gazed fondly on the little black and white mutt cradled in her husband's
massive hand. “And that one, I will name Harold.”

     “After King Harold, no doubt,” he muttered,
then looked at the wriggling little pups. “Al, Hal and Cab. What a trio.”

     He snickered as she protested strongly,
though not without cracking a smile. “You will not call them that,” she
demanded. “You will call them by their proper names.”

     He ignored her, lifting the pup he held in
against his chest so he could look at the little black-and-white face. “How
goes it with you, Hal? Do not think to overrun my house like that vicious beast
disguised as a cat does. You will know your place or I will have roast dog for
sup.”

     “Do not say that,” Dustin admonished, laughing
loudly when Harold licked Christopher's nose. Christopher, goaded by her
laughter, kissed her soundly on the lips and smeared puppy saliva on her cheek.
Dustin giggled, licked her lips, and returned the kiss. Christopher almost
forgot about the dog and pulled her to him with his free hand, his lips sweetly
invading hers. They were about to become even more involved when someone
shouted his name.

     They looked up to see Edward approaching,
smiling but puzzled as he came up on them.

     “What is this?” he pointed at the pups.

     “Dogs, Edward, or are you truly that
ignorant?” Christopher said sarcastically. “My wife has acquired three new
pets, God help us.”

     “Charming,” Edward sniffed. “So you have
been here playing with puppies while Baron Sedgewick and Lord Darby demand you
fight them both? They refuse to take on us of lesser rank.”

     Christopher made a face. “Damn, I was
hoping they would occupy themselves elsewhere this morn,” he said. “I wish to
take my wife into London.”

     “So take her.” Edward was thrilled to see
that Christopher and his wife were getting along again. He had been concerned
for them. “I shall simply tell the baron and the earl that you cannot be
found.”

     Christopher glanced at Dustin' s eager
face. “And so I shall,” he said, handing the pup he was holding over to Edward.
“Take this canine and his brothers to Marcus. Tell him to feed them or
something, at least until we return.”

     “What about his hand?” Edward demanded,
taking on Dustin's puppies.

     “His other hand is fine, as is the rest of him,”
Christopher said. “He is wasting the day by lying around like a weakling, so he
can busy himself with these little maggots. This one is Al, this one is Hal,
and this one is Cab.”

     Dustin rolled her eyes and pushed forward,
shoving her husband aside. “This one is Alex, this one is Harold, and this,”
she eyed her husband impatiently, “is Cabal. Make sure you tell Marcus and tell
him I shall come for the pups in a few hours.”

     Edward was vastly relieved. If Dustin was
speaking of Marcus, and Christopher was beaming like a fool, then things must
be right in the world. He wondered if Christopher took his advice and
apologized for his rashness; obviously, something had happened and he was
thankful, for everyone’s sake.

     “As you wish, my lady,” he said, grasping
the puppies awkwardly as he strode away.

     Once the dogs were gone, Christopher took
her hand. “And now, we go to London.”

     The Street of the Jewelers was where every
fine gold and silversmith in London kept shop. Christopher brought six trusted
soldiers with them because he wanted his wife protected while he selected her
gift alone, for he wanted it to be a surprise.

     Dustin, not one for jewelry, was not
particularly interested in the wares displayed, but more the people and
buildings. She watched fine women walk by, taking note of their surcoat or
hair, and then her head would whip around to study another individual. Christopher
watched her with a great deal of amusement.

     “One more snap of the neck like that and
your head will come free from your shoulders,” he remarked after she intently
studied a man dressed in flowing black with an odd sort of cap on his head.

     “Who was that?” she asked, pointing to the
man walking away from them.

     “A Jew,” he replied.        

     Dustin turned once more to watch the man
disappear into the crowd. “Oh,” she acknowledged with wonder. “I have never
seen a Jew before.”

     He reined his destrier in front of a busy
shop and Dustin rode alongside. He was dismounted and moving toward her, and
she was too busy observing the people around her to notice. He held his arms up
to her and she ignored him, though not intentionally.

     “Are you going to sit up there all day?” he
asked with feigned annoyance.

     She grinned at him sheepishly and slid into
his waiting arms. He held her just a bit longer than necessary, smiling at her.
“This is the shop where I bought your wedding ring,” he told her. “Mayhap they
have another ring to match.”

     She nodded as he took her arm and led her
into the dark shop. The goldsmith, although busy with another customer,
recognized him and waved enthusiastically.

     “Baron,” he said happily. “So good to see
you again. How was it in Wales?”

     Christopher removed a gauntlet. “I was not
in Wales, I was on the border, and it was acceptable. I have brought my wife;
she wishes to purchase a ring for me like the one I gave her.”

     Dustin held up her hand and showed him the
pretty gold band with five tiny diamonds and the man nodded firmly.

     “Ah, yes, I have something that will match
quite nicely for you, baron, a very princely ring,” he said, rummaging through
his wares.

     Dustin and Christopher watched him as he
dug around and mumbled to himself. Suddenly, he drew forth a ring gleefully and
thrust it toward Christopher.

     “Now there is a fine ring for a baroness,
do not you think?” he said.

     Christopher took the ring and scrutinized
it closely. It was an exquisitely cut diamond, as big as a fair-sized pebble, set
in a thin gold band so that the diamond nestled atop the band and caught the
light brilliantly. He moved it around, noting the quality and color of the
gemstone.

     “Give me your hand,” he told his wife.

     She held up her left hand and he slipped
the band on her finger, placing it flush against her wedding band. It was a
perfect fit.

     He examined the ring closely, turning
Dustin's finger from side to side. “I shall take it,” he said as easily as if
he had just purchased a loaf of bread.

     Dustin stared back at the ring in awe. It
was a magnificent diamond and the rainbows of colors that radiated forth from
it were unimaginable. But it was also quite large and, she thought, gaudy.
Although it matched the wedding band beautifully, she believed it looked sorely
out of place on her hand with the chewed nails.

     “Christopher,” she said softly. “’Tis a
lovely ring, but I am very happy with the band you gave me. Surely I do not
need another wedding ring.”

     “You do, and now you have one,” he replied
in a tone that she dare not argue with.

     Resigned to the rock that now hugged her
finger, she gazed at it again, holding it in front of her and watching the
colors as it caught the light and growing to like it better by the second.
Suddenly, the jeweler let out a small cry and brought forth what he had been
searching for. With great flourish, he handed it to Dustin.

     It was a horribly gaudy ring with a diamond
on it as big as a bird's egg. She turned her nose up at it and handed it back.

     “I want a man's ring, not a woman’s.” she
sniffed.

     “But this is a man's ring, a baron's ring.”
the goldsmith insisted. “See the workmanship? The craftsmanship?”

     Dustin shook her head firmly. “I want a
strong ring, solid and beautiful and simple. That thing is for the court
dandy.”

     Christopher hid a smile as the jeweler
began to sort through his wares again. Dustin stood on her toes, trying to see
over the man's shoulder as he shuffled about. He would hold up a ring to her
and she would shake her head, the gaudier the ring, the harder the head would
shake. Finally, desperate and down to his very last ring, he held up what he
considered to be a grossly inadequate ring for a man of the baron's status.