Rise of the Defender (75 page)

     “Talk to me, wife,” his voice was a
seductive growl. “What is so important?”

     Her courage returning, Dustin disengaged
herself from his arms and stood back, unfastening her cloak and removing it.

     “Do I look any different to you?” she
asked.

     He was thoroughly puzzled. “You are as
beautiful as you ever were. Why?”

     “Do I look fat?” she persisted.

     He looked at her ripe, supple body and
shook his head. “No Dustin, why the questions? What are you driving at?”

     “Do you know that none of my surcoats fit
me anymore? They are all as snug as skins on a grape,” she said insistently.

     He raised an eyebrow, his eyes raking her
body once more. “I see no difference. If you are worried about it, then we
shall have more surcoats made. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

     “Nay,” she said quickly. “Yes. Oh,
Christopher, it's just that…
oh
!”

     She stomped her foot with frustration and lowered
her gaze, again searching for the correct words. He reached out after a moment
and pulled her against him.

     “If you are worried that you are putting on
weight, do not,” he said softly. “You are a delightful, delicious morsel for my
tongue, sweetheart.”

     “I
am
putting on weight,” she
agreed.

     “I care not,” he replied, thinking what she
wanted was reassurance that he still found her desirable. “You look better than
you ever have. Your breasts are more than a handful for me and your beautiful
legs are supple and…”

     “Chris,” she put her hand to his lips to
quiet him. “We are going to have a baby.”

     His eyes widened and beneath her fingers,
his mouth went agape. Her eyes met with his for an eternity of long seconds
before he even trusted himself to speak.

     “A
baby
?” he whispered. “Dustin, are
you pregnant?”

     She nodded, trying to gage his reaction.
“Are you happy?”

     He tried to laugh at the idiocy of the
statement but all that came out was a choked gasp. Complete, unexpected joy
surged through his veins as his disbelieving mind tried to comprehend her
words. “Happy? Christ in Heaven, Dustin. Happy isn’t a word I would choose to
describe my feelings.”

     She looked at him with uncertainty. “Tell
me, then. Are you not happy?”

     He responded by kissing her feverishly,
every inch of her face and neck until she was laughing and gasping with
delight. She tried to speak, but every time she uttered a word his mouth was on
her again and sucking at her with furious joy. He stopped long enough to allow
her to catch her breath, cradling her against him with the utmost reverence.

     “Christ, sweetheart, I cannot describe in
words how thrilled I am,” he whispered against her, then held her back to look
her over urgently. “How do you feel? Are you all right?”

     She smiled. “I am fine, just fat,” she
said, winding her arms around his neck. “I love you, Chris. I hope to give you
a fine, healthy son.”

     He kissed her tenderly. “That would be the
ultimate gift, sweet love. As long as you come through unscathed, tis all I
will ask of God.”

     Their lips met again, so sweetly and
worshipful of each other, growing increasingly passionate by the moment. The
storm outside was a full-blown climate upheaval, but inside the deserted
stable, their love was filling the air like a warm breeze.

     He lay her back on her cloak, throwing off
pieces of armor and hearing them hit the straw in reckless disorder. Not a word
was spoken, but there was no need, his gentle touch and eager lips spoke
volumes to her. Between tender, urgent kisses and reverent caresses, she helped
him off with his hauberk and underclothing.

     He ran his hands over her nude body for the
longest time, kissing her slightly rounded belly over and over, worshiping the
miracle they created inside her. He still could not believe the good news.

     She moaned softly at his touch, closing her
eyes to savor every sensation he was bestowing upon her. From her breasts to
her toes, he was unstoppable, his huge body prowling over her like a graceful
beast. When he finally did mount her, it was with more tenderness than she
dreamed possible, his strokes even and measured and erotic.

     He made love to her as he never had, his
throat tight with emotion. The child she carried,
his
child, meant more
to him than anything on earth and he was so, so grateful that Dustin loved him
enough to bear him the gift.

     When they did climax together, tears of joy
found their way down her cheeks, clinging to Christopher for dear life. She
never wanted to let him go, simply remain as they were forever, listening to
the storm outside yet warm and happy with their contentment.

     He dressed her carefully, managing to touch
her stomach a dozen times in the process. He wouldn’t allow her to help him
with his armor, only his hauberk because it was bulky and awkward. When he was
fully dressed, he pulled her to him once again and kissed the life from her.

     “Now I want you to go back to the
apartments and rest,” he said softly.

     “But there’s to be a grand luncheon in the
great dining hall and Deborah and I promised to attend,” she protested. “There
will be entertainers and….”

     “Nay,” he said firmly. “You will return to
our apartments and relax. I do not want you exerting yourself in the least.”

     She frowned at him. “Chris, I have been
pregnant for almost two months and have yet to injure or exert myself in that
time. Be reasonable about this, I won’t break.”

     He raised an eyebrow at her. “Do not argue
with me.”

     “I am not,” she insisted. “But I have seven
more months to go and refuse to be treated like an invalid until June. Can I
please go to the luncheon if I promise to leave the moment it is finished?”

     He eyed her and she was hopeful with his
indecisive pause. “If you promise to leave the very moment you have finished
eating, then I will allow it.” He pointed a massive gauntleted finger at her
when she smiled triumphantly. “But if you so much as vary in your plans but a
moment, I shall chain you to the bed myself until my son is born.”

     She stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the
tip of his nose. “I promise, I promise.”

     He smiled and swatted her on the bottom.
“Delay me no further, wife.”

     He took her out of the stable, shielding
her with his huge body from the driving rain and to the waiting escort of his
men. He suddenly found it difficult to let her go with them, wanting more than
ever to protect her himself and reluctant to leave the duty to anyone else. But
he forced himself to let her go, waving a hand at her in response to her huge
smile as they led her away.

     Behind him, Marcus rode up and kicked mud
all over his legs. “Where in the hell did you go?”

     He looked up at his vassal, rain pelting
his face, and smiled the broadest smile Marcus could ever remember seeing.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

     Word spread throughout Windsor that the
Defender’s wife was expecting. Dustin was the recipient of thousands of items
for the baby, all of them designed for a boy, and she prayed to God every night
that the child would be male. She knew Christopher would be tremendously
disappointed if she bore a daughter.

     Deborah was mayhap even more ecstatic over
the baby than she was, if such a thing were possible. She sewed endlessly,
making mounds of blankets and little suits and booties until Dustin’s wardrobe
was fair to overflowing with the stuff.

     Dustin’s twentieth birthday came and went
with very little fanfare, as she requested. Christopher held a small dinner
party in her honor with only a very few select guests, mostly other knights.
She was embarrassed with all of the attention and gifts, but it was a lively
party and she was sorry to see it end. The greatest gift came later in their
bedchamber, however, when Christopher presented her with a beautiful bejeweled
hair clip and matching ear-bobs. He stripped her of her surcoat, piled her
considerable hair on top of her head and secured it with the clip, and put her
ear-adornments on her and proceeded to make love to her deep into the night.

     It was around this time that Dustin noticed
how distant Marcus had become. No longer was he the humorous, personable man,
but rather detached from everything. Deborah had a mad crush on the man and
Dustin suspected that mayhap he was uncomfortable with the attention, and was
concerned for him. When she tried to talk to him, he would always excuse
himself before they could delve into any manner of conversation.   

     Around Dustin, he was even worse.  Whenever
she would come around, he would leave before she could say a word to him. 
Dustin was concerned, of course, but the impending baby seemed to wipe all else
from her mind.  Whatever was troubling Marcus, she couldn’t be bothered by it.

     It was a few days before Christmas when
John decided to have a mask.  It was a season of celebration and prayer, but
the prince took it to the next level.  He wanted a mad party.  The mood struck
John to have a mask, and a mask all of Windsor would have.

     Dustin had been planning on the dance since
she had learned of it days before. Even though she didn’t dance, she still
thought it would be great fun to attend and she and Deborah had spent the
entire afternoon selecting a surcoat. A clear red brocade was her choice,
complementing her skin beautifully. Deborah's finest surcoat was an elaborately
embroidered black and white brocade which Dustin thought to be gaudy, but with
her simple tastes, everything seemed gaudy.

     She still could not believe a tiny life
grew inside her. Days after the discovery, she kept running her hands over her
stomach in disbelief, grinning when Deborah would touch her belly also. In
fact, Deborah seemed to touch her belly more than Dustin did, so excited was
she.

     Christopher returned from the practice
field in the late afternoon, grimy and sweaty and smelling like a horse.
Deborah retreated, leaving Dustin alone with her filthy husband.

     He tried to kiss his wife but she ducked
away from him, wrinkling her nose. “Not until you bathe.”

     He gave her a half-grin, removing his
gauntlets. “I must bathe simply to kiss you?”

     “You must bathe if you plan to sleep beside
me tonight,” she told him. “Moreover, I will not be seen with you tonight at
the mask if you do not clean yourself up.”

     “Mask?” he repeated. “You mean John’s
deviant party?”

     She eyed him. “Aye, that’s what I mean. Did
you forget? You promised we could go.”

     “But that was before you told me of your
condition,” he said sternly. “You will not cavort about the dance floor and
exert yourself.”

     “I do not dance, you know that.” she said
sharply. “But you promised that we could go, and I want to very much.”

     “Go and do what? Sit?” he shot back. “Nay,
Dustin, you will stay here and rest tonight. You should not be out and about.”

     She frowned, putting her hands on her hips.
“Do not start that again. I am fine, I told you. And I want to go to the party
simply, well, to see the fine surcoats and talk with people. Our friends will
be expecting us.”

     “Our friends will understand when I explain
to them why you were unable to attend,” he said as he removed his breastplate.
“Your health is more important than a party.”

     Her pretty mouth set in a stubborn line.
“Are you breaking your promise to me? Is your word no better than water through
my fingers?”

     He raised an eyebrow reprovingly. “You know
better than that. I promised you before I knew you were carrying my son and the
circumstances have changed. I do not wish to discuss this anymore.”

     “And we shan't.” Dustin stomped an impudent
foot. “I am going, and so is Deborah. The only way you can stop me is to tie me
down, but know that I will fight you every step of the way if you try.”

She dashed into the
bedchamber and he tossed his breastplate and hauberk to the ground with
frustration. “I will tie you down if I have to.” he yelled to her. “Do not
think that I won’t.”

     “And risk injuring your precious son?” she
exclaimed angrily, suddenly standing in the doorway. “You already care more for
this child than you do for me. Will you forget about me completely when it is
born?”

     He turned to scowl at her, but she was
already gone. He could hear her rummaging about in the bedchamber.  With a sigh
of annoyance, he shirked off the rest of his armor and tossed his boots over by
the hearth.

     Dustin was digging through a chest in the
bedchamber.

     “What are you doing?' he asked, yanking his
shirt off.