Rise of the Defender (112 page)

     “And I would love the child as my own,”
Marcus replied without missing a beat. “It makes no difference to me.”

     “Stop thinking of yourself, Marcus,” Edward
said heatedly. “Consider her feelings for a moment. She just lost her husband;
do you truly think she wants another so soon? Give her time to heal, for God's
sake.”

     Marcus' jaw began to tick again and he
swung his leg over the destrier, dismounting in a jingle of armor; it was the
latest and most expensive armor Edward had seen. He approached Edward until he
was an inch from his face and lowered his voice so that only Edward would hear
him.

     “I love her, Edward. I have always loved
her, more than anything,” he muttered. “I have crossed the whole of England to
see her and I am not leaving until I do. You can announce me or I can find her
myself; the choice is yours.”                 

     Edward met his gaze with eyes as hard as
stone. “'Tis no choice, Burton,” he growled. “You have given me an ultimatum
and I do not take kindly to them.”

     “Then raise your sword and make your
attempt to stop me,” Marcus said, glancing sidelong at the other knights. “I
can take on all of you, even the Cornwalis twins. 'Tis only David that concerns
me.”

     “David is not here,” Edward replied. “He
left Lioncross around Christmastime.”

     Marcus' face rippled with surprise but he
caught himself. “All the better for me, then. Will you show me to Dustin or
must I find her myself?”

     Edward eyed him harshly for a moment. “She
is not as you remember her, Burton. Chris’ death has changed her a great deal.”

     “She is still Dustin,” Marcus replied
evenly. “I shall always love her as such.”

     Edward glared at him a moment longer before
turning on his heel. “Kessler, offer the baron's men refreshment,” he told him.
“We shall return shortly.”

     Edward took Marcus through the great hall
of Lioncross and Marcus appraised the place, comparing it to his own keep, but
his mind was focused on Dustin. He was so damned excited to see her that his
stomach was taut with nerves. As they passed into the kitchens, a tall young
man with a thin mustache met them and smiled inquisitively at Marcus. Edward
stopped abruptly.

     “Marcus Burton, this is Gowen Olmquist,
Deborah's husband and Lioncross' steward,” he said shortly.

     Marcus and Gowen barely had time to
exchange pleasantries before Edward was forging onward, taking Marcus out into
the small kitchen bailey and pointing to the iron-worked gate that led into the
garden.

     “She's in her garden,” he said with
restrained anger. “I shall leave you to talk to her alone, but be aware that I
will be within earshot. Bank yourself, Marcus; her mind is very brittle, as is
her manner. Be shocked with nothing she says or does.”

     He turned sharply and marched away, leaving
Marcus a moment to compose himself before seeing Dustin for the first time in a
year.  The anticipation was nearly too much to bear as he opened the garden
gate.

     Even though Edward had warned him, he was
still shocked at the sight of her. She looked like a prisoner, dressed in rags
and hoeing the ground furiously. Her luscious hair hung in dirty clumps and she
was far thinner than he had remembered. Disheartened, Marcus swallowed hard as
he stepped forward.

     “Dustin?” he said softly.

     She hoed a split second longer before
stopping. Slowly, her head came up and Marcus was distressed to see her gaunt,
pale face. Still incredibly beautiful, but so terribly haunting. He smiled and
her eyes widened.

     “Hello, honey,” he said. “It is been a long
time.”

     The hoe fell out of her hand and she
straightened, brushing her ratty hair from her face. “Marcus?”

     He nodded, taking a few timid steps
forward. Dustin took a step backward and he stopped.

     “What are you doing here?” she asked in
awe.

     “To see you, to see how you are,” he
replied. “I came to tell you how sorry I am about Chris.”

     She shook her head faintly. “You ran away,”
she said softly. “He was so worried about you. He went off to fight John and he
was angry because you did not fight with him.”

     Marcus’ smile faded. “I had to leave,
Dustin. I….something happened unexpectedly and I had to leave.”

     “You mean you made love to me and fled in
guilt,” Dustin said, remarkably clear-minded. “Aye, Marcus, I know what
happened that night. I thought I had dreamed it, but I knew soon enough that I
hadn't. 'Twas good that you left.”

     He lowered his gaze. “'Twas never my
intention to take you, Dustin,” he said, reliving that night so long ago. He
had lived on the memory for over a year. “I went into your bedchamber that
night to talk to you and in your sleep, you thought I was Christopher. I could
have stopped it from happening, but I did not want to. I have always loved you,
Dustin. You know that.”

     “Is that why you are here? To tell me you
love me?” Dustin asked, then smiled ironically. “I do not want to hear this,
Marcus. The only man I will ever love is dead, and I do not want anyone else. I
am sorry you have come all this way for nothing.”

     “Think on it, Dustin,” Marcus said softly.
“I can offer you protection, companionship, and my undying devotion. And your
daughter; I would be her father-figure.”

     Dustin stiffened, flooded with memories of
how much Christopher had loved his daughter.

     “You shall never be her father, Marcus,”
she said, rather angrily. “Her father is dead.”

     “Mayhap so,” Marcus said hoarsely. “But I
would love her as if she were my own.”

     Her eyes snapped to him but she bit her
tongue. She didn’t want to argue with him and she surely didn’t want to hear of
his proposal. In fact, she felt nothing for the man as she gazed at him. Not
even friendship.  There was no feeling at all. As she stood there, trying to
figure out how to get rid of him, Griselda brought Christin out into the bright
sunlight and Marcus' jaw dropped.

     At six months old, the babe had his black
hair and Dustin's gray eyes. The old woman passed the child over to her mother
and left the three of them standing in uncomfortable silence.

     Marcus’ eyes were wide at the black-haired
infant. “Dustin…?” he began timidly.

     “I do not know!” Dustin snapped harshly,
bouncing Christin when the baby whimpered at the sharpness of her mother's
voice. She softened her tone. “I do not know, Marcus.”

     Marcus’ mouth was hanging open. “But... the
hair. And the shape of her face,” he stammered.

     “My mother had black hair.” Dustin shot
back. “And her eyes and her face are as mine. She…she is Chris' child, Marcus.”

     He forced himself over the shock and
approached the two of them, holding out a timid finger to which Christin
gleefully latched on to.

     “She has my hair,” he said softly.

     Dustin did not answer. Marcus smiled at the
baby and was rewarded with a wide grin, displaying two new teeth. “Can I hold
her?” he asked.

     Dustin bounced the baby a moment longer
before reluctantly handing her over. Christopher had been very timid with his
daughter at first; Marcus held her with great confidence that made her heart
jump strangely.                             Christin grabbed his nose and stuck
her hand in his mouth. He was delighted.

     “What's her name?” he asked.

     “Christin,” Dustin replied sullenly, torn
between Marcus' joy in the babe and the guilt that was sweeping her.

     “Christin,” Marcus repeated. “What a pretty
name. Jesus, she's beautiful.  She looks just like you.”

     Dustin looked away from him, emotions
within her numb heart stirring again. Christin cooed and gurgled and Marcus was
instantly attached to her. He continued to play with her even as Dustin
meandered over to her hoe and picked it up.  He watched her pick it up and
begin scratching at the dirty again.

     “Come home with me, Dustin,” Marcus said
softly. “You shall love Somerhill. There are lots of children in the village
and Christin would have playmates, and it would be a fresh start for you. Away
from Lioncross and its memories.”

     Dustin hoed haltingly at the thawing
ground, her misery becoming evident. “I do not know, Marcus,” she whispered. 
“This is my home and I belong here. It is Chris’ home.”

     “And look what it is doing to you,” he said
with more firmness. “You are wasting away with grief. You must get away from
this place.”

     Her head snapped up and she prepared a
sharp reply, but the sight of him holding her happy, gurgling daughter brought
tears to her eyes and the hoe fell to the ground. As her hands went over her
face, Marcus went to her and wrapped her in his free arm.

     Dustin went to pieces. To feel a massive,
strong, warm arm around her once again threw her back into Christopher's arms
and she allowed herself to imagine, for a second, that it was he who was
holding her.

     The more she wept, the tighter Marcus’ grip
became and her arms found their way around his waist. She could hear him
comforting her softly and felt him kiss the top of her head at least twice. She
also felt a different pressure on the top of her head and heard Marcus scolding
Christin softly for eating her mother's hair. It was comical and she actually
laughed, lifting her head to see that Marcus was smiling as well as he unwound
her hair from Christin's death grip.

     Edward was standing by the kitchen door, a
birds-eye view of what was going on in the garden. He could see Marcus holding
Dustin and Christin, and he was seized with a great anger. Anthony and Jeffrey
joined him.

     “I want him gone,” Edward growled. “I do not
care how, but I want him out.”

     “Why?” Anthony asked. “He's the only one
who's gotten Dustin to respond in any way. Look; she's actually smiling.”

     Edward gritted his teeth. “The bastard
comes swaggering in here to collect Dustin as if she was a prize,” he seethed.
“I shall not stand for it. And neither would Chris.”

     “Chris would want her to be happy,” Jeffrey
said quietly. “I have known Lady Dustin longer than anyone. If she wants to go
with this Marcus, and in your judgment he is a just, fair man, then I know her
mother would have no objection. She only wished for Dustin's happiness also.”

     “Marcus Burton has a reputation second only
to Chris,” Anthony told him. “Richard loves the man. He is as fair and just as
they come. But you never told me he was in love with her, Edward.”

     Edward did not answer for a moment.
“Verily,” he replied faintly. “As much as Christopher, at least. But she only
had eyes for her husband, and now Marcus sees this as his opportunity.”

     Anthony watched them for a moment before turning
away. “If she will be happy with him, then I am sure Chris would approve.”

     Edward shook his head, eyeing Marcus and
Dustin menacingly. “She is Chris' wife,” he said.

     “And Chris is dead,” Jeffrey slapped him on
the shoulder and followed Anthony back into the kitchens.

CHAPTER
FORTY ONE

     Marcus stayed on for several days, trying
desperately to convince Dustin to return north with him. He would much rather
have her agreement in the matter, but whether or not she consented, he intended
to take her with him. He was resolute that he would not leave without her.

     Even with Marcus' presence, her habits
changed little. She bathed at least now and brushed her hair, but her clothes
were still of the peasant style and her appetite was nil. Marcus went into town
and ordered three new dresses for her as a surprise and ordered pretty
accessories to go with them, hoping to brighten her spirits. She was so sullen
and depressed all of the time that it broke his heart to see her moping about.
At first, taking her with him to had been completely selfish, but the more he
stayed on to observe her situation, the more he was convinced that it would
truly be in Dustin's best interest. He only hoped that he could convince her
that it would be best, also.

     But Dustin wanted little to do with him
other than conversation. She kept a cool distance, keeping her protective wall
up with him at all times because she knew how easy it would be to succumb to
him. He would give her what she was so desperately seeking, comfort, love,
protection, but the problem was that she wasn't seeking those things from him;
she wanted her husband. Any touch from Marcus would be compared to Christopher,
and with any kiss she would close her eyes and pretend it was her husband.
Marcus was a man who could stand on his own merits, no doubt. He was so much
like her husband it was frightening - strong, incredibly handsome, powerful,
brave. Had she never met Christopher, Marcus Burton would have been the love of
her life.

     But the fact remained that he wasn’t.
Marcus surprised her with the dresses one night after supper and Dustin showed
little interest, although she did thank him sincerely. Beautiful clothes
reminded her of her husband because he had taken such delight in seeing her
dressed to the hilt. She tried to explain her reasons to Marcus but she doubted
he could understand. She could see that he was hurt by her reaction and she was
sorry, but it did not change her feelings.