Rise of the Defender (13 page)

***

     Even as his wife slept the night away,
Christopher was wide awake in massive bed that was now his. He could only stare
up at the ceiling, his mind a confused jumble of emotions he could not quite
grasp.

     She had not mentioned leaving for Nottingham
on the morrow, which was good. He had reconsidered allowing her to leave and hoped
that she might change her mind before he had to order her to stay. After what
had happened today, he was reluctant to let her from his sight and the damnable
thing was that he didn’t have the slightest idea as to why.

     He didn’t want his chattel damaged. Aye,
that was the reason. Should she be hurt or maimed, 'twould be his burden to
bear. Should she be killed, he would feel damn guilty for letting her leave in the
first place. He could not seem to admit to himself that he was curious about
her and she was very pleasant to look at, and in the recesses of his mind he
knew if she left, Lioncross would be a colorless place. Besides that, he would
have to appoint one of the servant’s chatelaine and from what he had seen of
them, they were a stupid lot. Nay, he needed someone competent to run his
house, and his wife seemed to have her wits about her. Well, sometimes.

     Her place was here, at Lioncross, running
the castle for him, not dreaming her days away in Nottingham.  He only hoped
she didn't hit him when he told her that, his lip was still swollen. Besides,
if she did that, he might have to put her over his knee.

     Something hit the foot of the bed and he
jumped, sword in his hand before he drew another breath. Yet his defensive
posture was for naught. Caesar was purring madly at the bottom of the bed,
kneading at the coverlets as he approached.

     He let out a loud hiss of relief and put
the sword back down. “Christ, you little maggot,” he grunted. “You scared the
hell out of me.”

     Caesar’s eyes were half-closed as he bumped
up against Christopher’s hip, his big claws snagging the coverlet. Christopher
sat up and frowned at the animal. “What are you doing here, anyway? Your
mistress will be wondering where you are.”

     The cat’s answer was to purr even louder,
then yawn a big cat yawn at him. Christopher grinned in spite of himself.  “So
you want to sleep here, do you? Well, I will not allow it. I do not like cats,
especially pushy ones. Go away.”

     Caesar turned a couple of circles trying to
find just the right spot to lay on, and then promptly deposited himself.
Christopher scowled. “Nay, beast, not here,” he said sternly, reaching to pick up
the cat.

     Quick as a flash, Caesar rolled onto his
stomach and latched onto Christopher’s hand, claws digging into him and his big
teeth clamping down. Every time Christopher tried to move his hand, Caesar
would scratch at his forearm with his huge back claws.

     “So you think you have a catch, do you?”
Christopher demanded, amused. The cat wasn't hurting him so long as he remained
still. “Release me, devil, or I will take my dagger to you.”

     The cat started to purr again, still
clutching his hand with a death-grip. Christopher shook his head. “Let me go
and you can stay.”

     The cat’s hind legs scratched at him again
and Christopher scowled. “I promise.”

     He would swear until the day he died that
Caesar understood him. The cat immediately released him and rolled into a ball,
his cat-green eyes closing contentedly and his purring loud and rhythmic.
Christopher had to chuckle, sliding back down under the covers, trying not to
disrupt his new friend.

     “Damnedest thing I ever saw,” he muttered,
finally feeling relaxed enough that he might sleep.

     Caesar was half-laying on his neck when he
awoke. The sun was just beginning to peer over the eastern horizon and the day
looked to be clear. Christopher reached up and carefully removed the animal,
lest he find a claw in his neck, and sat up, scratching his head. Finally rising,
he ordered hot water so that he might quickly bathe himself.

     After a brief wash and shave to trim up his
beard, he dressed in most of his armor and gave a quick glance at his bed
before quitting the room. Caesar still fast asleep on his pillows. Christopher
shook his head at the beast, he hoped this was not to be a nightly occurrence.

     The house was coming alive as he descended
the stairs, servants bustling about and the smells of the morning meal floating
through the dim great room. David and Edward greeted him as they came indoors
from the bailey.

     “You over-slept,” David commented.

     “It would seem so,” Christopher answered,
turning to Edward. “How goes the repair on the north corner of the keep?”

     “Done, my lord,” Edward replied. “Finished
yesterday while you were tending your wife. She looks well enough.”

     Christopher’s brow furrowed. “Is she up
already?”

     “Aye, up and gone,” David said. “She seemed
quite distracted, too. Did you two have words again?”

     “Gone
where
?” Christopher demanded,
ignoring the other questions.

     David shrugged. “I do not know, but I sent Leeton
to follow her,” he said. “Do not worry about her.”

     Christopher passed a glance at the open front
door, noticing the pink hue cast over the stone. He wondered why Dustin was up
so early. Where could she possible go? His inclination was to go after her but
he refrained. Leeton would watch over her.

     “Well, Edward,” he said after a moment, “Let
us see what kind of repair job has been done to my wall.”

     “You will approve, my lord,” Edward replied
arrogantly. “I, myself, do.”

     Christopher raised an eyebrow. “Then let us
hope that your standards are as high as mine,” he said, just to poke at the
man’s pride.

     The repair was indeed well done and
Christopher was pleased. There were so many other repair jobs that Edward and
David had already put men on them. Even as the sun rose the keep was busy with
activity. Christopher would inspect every job, every bit of material,
personally.

     “Where is Sir Jeffrey?” he finally asked
after inspecting the second such repair job.

     “On the wall,” David replied, glancing up
to the ramparts. “He was up there all yesterday, and was on the parapet before
the sun rose. I have yet to have said two words to the man.”

     Christopher stopped and looked up to the
top of the wall, his eyes scanning for the big German. It did not take long for
him to find the man, standing with his arms crossed near the guard tower, gazing
across the distant moor.

     Christopher stared at the man for a few
long seconds, his face unreadable.

     “Send him to me,” he said finally. “We
would be through with this now.”

     “You are going to dismiss him?” David asked.

     “Hell yes.” Christopher turned and went
into the castle.

     Jeffrey did not keep him waiting this time.
Christopher received him in the small solar where he had delivered his missives
to Lady Mary, standing by the long, thin windows that opened out onto the bailey.
He, however, kept Jeffrey standing in silence for nearly 10 minutes before he
acknowledged him.

     “How long have you served here at
Lioncross?” Christopher asked coolly.

     “Six years,” Jeffrey answered, then almost
as an afterthought, “my lord.”

     Christopher ignored the potential insult. “Then
you served Sir Arthur.”

     “Yah, my lord,” he replied. “I am his
captain.”

     “
Was
,” Christopher corrected him as
he turned around. “Since the man is dead and the fortress is mine, your
position is dissolved.”

     Jeffrey stiffened slightly. “Lioncross is
my home, my lord. I have defended her well, as I have defended Lady Mary and
Lady Dustin.”

     Christopher looked at him then, when he
mentioned Dustin, just to see what sort of expression the man held. There was
none.

     “Then you know of my wife’s habits,” he
deliberately used the term wife. “Then, pray, do you know where she went this
morning? You seem to keep an eye out for her, as you pointed out to me
yesterday.”

     “I do not know,” Jeffrey’s voice was
colder. “I saw her leave, that is true, but I do not know where she went.
Mayhap her watchdog can inform you of her actions upon their return.”

     “Sir Leeton is an extremely capable knight,
far more than a mere watchdog, I assure you.” Christopher did not like the man.
“In fact, I have so many capable knights here at Lioncross that your services
are no longer required. You may gather your personal possessions and be gone by
the nooning meal.

     He had, in effect, kicked him right out on
his arse. Jeffrey, however, was expecting it and did not flinch. Instead, very
strangely, he smiled and Christopher went immediately on his guard.

     “As you wish, my lord,” he said. “In fact,
I appreciate the orders. It will allow me the freedom and adventure I have been
waiting for.”

     Christopher didn’t answer, still eyeing the
man warily. Jeffrey gave a little chuckle and moved for the door, stopping in
the archway.

     “There is one more thing, baron,” he said. “Since
I am no longer under your command, then I feel no need to hold my tongue. I know
your knights have been pressing the soldiers for information about me, and I
can suspect what you have been told, so I will clarify the rumors for you. It
is true that I feel more for Lady Dustin than simply friendship and duty. I
know that you married her simply to gain the keep and for that, I cannot fault
you.” His voice suddenly lowered and his smile faded. “Even though I am no longer
her protector, have no doubt that I will still be watching over Lady Dustin. If
I hear that you have so much as touched a hair on her lovely head in anger or
violence, then I will come and I will kill you. Remember that.”

     Christopher s eyes were glittering at the
statement. He had no idea why the words had riled him so, for he had been
issued hundreds of challenges and had not so much as batted an eyelash in
return. He had no doubt that the man was sincere, and he had no doubt that it would
be a hell of a fight from the size of the man. But a peculiar gripping warmth
was spreading through him at the confession the man had made for Dustin and he
was at a loss as to why, but he knew that the emotion was most overwhelming.

     “I will remember if you will also remember
one thing. Lady Dustin is now my wife and I do not want you anywhere near her,”
he said, his voice like cold steel.” If I ever hear that you have so much as
spoken her name, then I will find you and cut your heart out. Forget what you
feel for her for your emotions will surely be your death.”

     The two men stared at each other viciously,
each trying to read the other, trying to discern any emotion other than hate.

     “She is nothing but chattel to you,”
Jeffrey hissed after a moment. “You would kill me over a piece of property? Are
you that possessive?”

     “She is my wife,” Christopher answered,
evading his questions. “That is reason enough to kill for her.”

     Jeffrey’s jaw ticked and his fists
clenched. “You are dooming her to a life of unhappiness, you know that,” he
said. “At least with me, there would have been a chance for joy.”

     “Then I am curious,” Christopher said. “Why
did you not marry her before I got here? Surely you could have spoken to Lady
Mary.

     “I did,” he shot back, then quickly
regained his control. “She would not consent to anything without Sir Arthur’s
permission. She said that I would have to wait until he returned from the Holy
Land,” he gaze turned bitter. “As we know now, he did not return.”

     Christopher suddenly saw quite a few things
clearly and his anger, though not lessened, went no further. The man was in
love with his wife and bitterly disappointed that the situation was out of his
control. With Arthur’s death and the king’s decree, there was nothing he could
do and he was understandably disappointed.

     “Does Dustin know any of this?” Christopher
asked after a moment.

     “Nay,” Jeffrey met his look. “Lady Mary
never told her. She knew, as I did, that Lady Dustin had no interest in
marriage.”

     Christopher dropped his gaze thoughtfully.
Jeffrey slowly moved toward him, the anger and hatred between them somewhat lessened
over the last few moments. After several moments reflection, Christopher snickered.

     “She certainly did not want to marry me,”
he said ironically. “Nor I, her, for that matter.”

     “She did not want to marry anyone,” Jeffrey
said. “The numbers of suitors Lady Dustin has had over the past three years is
staggering. The list of prospects fill an entire drawer in Lady Mary’s desk.
Knights, barons, a few earls, and even a duke. There was nothing to do but wait
until Arthur's return to plead for Lady Dustin’s hand.”

     So Dustin was much-pursued? Certainly she
was beautiful enough and he was not surprised. He wondered what would happen
now when the word got out that Lady Dustin had taken a husband. He wondered if
he would be fighting off armies of scorned suitors
. Ah, well, let them come.
He was up to it. He glanced up at Jeffrey.