Rise of the Defender (131 page)

     “She will,” Dustin whispered, kissing his
mouth again. “She loves you.”

     She pressed against him, sniffling,
laboring to gain control of her emotions.  The shock of it still wasn’t over,
but she was starting to understand that he really had returned to her and her
hysteria was being replaced by overwhelming joy.

     Christopher glanced over her head at
Richard, smiling at the man's red-rimmed eyes. The other knights had moved
discreetly over to the other end of the room, allowing them some privacy, and
he was grateful. He did not even notice Marcus was missing until the man
charged back into the room, brandishing his broadsword and armor.

     “Let my wife go,” he ordered Christopher.
“Prepare to meet your God, baron.”

     Christopher's smile faded and Dustin
whirled around as if she could protect him with her swollen body. Instantly the
mood of the room changed.

     “No, Marcus!” she cried.

     “Marcus, put down the sword,” Richard put
himself between the concerned parties. “Put it
down
.”

     Marcus flipped up his visor. “Sire, that
man holds my wife and I will defend what is mine.

     “She is his wife,” Richard reminded him.

     “She's
mine,
” Marcus shot back. “The
child she carries is mine.”

     “No, it is
not
,” Dustin said deliberately,
seeing the look of disbelief in Marcus’ eyes. She felt a good deal of pity for
him, and guilt for herself, but she was selfishly unconcerned for Marcus at the
moment. “Marcus, I was pregnant when I came here, only I was afraid to tell
you. I let you think the babe was yours, but it was not. It is Christopher's.”

     Marcus’ expression fell. “That is not
true.”

     Dustin nodded emphatically. “It is,” she
said. “Do you remember how ill I was when I first came to Somerhill?”

     Marcus well remembered that time. “I do.”

     Dustin felt Christopher's massive hand move
to her belly and she put her own hand over it. “I am sorry I deceived you,
Marcus,” she said sincerely, “but under the circumstances, I thought it best to
let you believe what you would.”

     His cobalt-blue eyes stared back at her
miserably. “I suppose I knew you were pregnant,” he said softly. “Whether or
not Christopher is the true father, I accepted the child as mine. It is my
child, and you are my wife.”

     “I am Christopher’s wife,” she said earnestly.
“You
know
that; you have always known that. He is my husband, dead or
alive.”

     Marcus slammed the faceplate down and
raised the sword and Dustin bolted forward, suddenly furious.

     “So help me, Marcus Burton, if you harm
Christopher, I shall hate you for the rest of my life,” she snarled.  “Do you
hear me? I shall despise and loathe you, and I shall kill myself if you try to
touch me. Do you understand me?”

     The sword lowered slightly. “Do not say
that.”

     “It is true!” she shrieked. “I shall hate
you forever. Marcus. I want Christopher. He has returned to me, and I want him.
Can you not understand? As badly as you want me,
I want him.
” Her last
three words were deliberate and stressed.

     “Dustin,” Christopher came up behind her.
“Leave him be, sweetheart. He must do this, as I must.”

     She whirled to Christopher, seeing that he
was donning his helmet. “Nay!” she gasped. “I forbid you! Christopher, I just
got you back. I am not going to lose you now.”

     “You will not,” he said evenly.

     From the shadows, Anthony suddenly came
charging forward, sword in hand. Marcus didn’t hesitate as he engaged Anthony
head-on, landing a clean strike to the groin within the first four blows.
Mortally wounded, Anthony fell to the floor in agony.

     The room sat in stunned silence, realizing
Marcus was deadly serious about fighting for Dustin. Dustin, too, realized
Marcus meant what he said, but she was horribly shocked to see that he had
gored Anthony. She watched Edward drag Anthony across the floor, leaving a thin
trail of blood.

     “Marcus,” she said, scared and incredulous.
“You killed him.”

     Marcus did not reply and Richard moved
forward, eyeing the two men severely. “How is it that we have come to this?” he
wondered quietly. “My very best knights, dueling each other over the love of a
woman. How in the hell have we come to this?” He looked down at Dustin. “My
lady, sometimes I wish I had never heard the name Barringdon. You, dear woman,
have come closer than anyone to toppling my throne.”

     Dustin felt guilty as sin, lowering her
gaze. Richard hadn't meant to blame her, though, and put a fatherly hand on her
arm.  His gaze fell on Marcus and then Christopher.

     “I do not relish what this has come to, but
I had better let you two fight it out or there will never be peace within my
ranks.” He pulled Dustin along with him, out of the line of fire. “Get on with
it then, and I shall await the victor with Lady Dustin in another room.” So
much for the glorious speech he had prepared to give at this moment; he knew
any words would be wasted on them. The die was cast and nothing he said would
make any difference.

     But Dustin wasn’t ready to go. She pulled
away from Richard and rushed to Christopher. “Nay,” she cried softly. “Do not
do this. Christopher, I do not want to lose you again. I could not take the
pain, not when I just got you back.”

     He flipped up his visor and kissed her with
painful sweetness. “You won't, sweet love. Go with Richard.”

     Dustin could not believe this was
happening. To have him in her arms for mere minutes and then suffering the
threat of death again was too much to take. She started to cry again, but he
kissed her tears away.

     “Nay, Dustin,” he murmured, his lips on her
face. “No tears.”

     He gently turned her toward Richard, but
instead, she veered toward Marcus. He observed her coolly as she approached.

     “If you win, Marcus, you lose everything,”
she whispered viciously. “You will not have won a wife, but an enemy for life.
Leave well enough alone and we can remain on good terms, but kill Christopher,
and I will turn your life into a living hell.”

     He gazed at her a moment. “Would it be so
terrible to remain with me?”

     “Not if I loved you,” she said honestly.
“But the man I love is alive, Marcus, and I want to be with him. Why is that so
difficult for you to understand? I certainly do not want to hurt you, for you
have been more than generous, but would you truly want a wife who did not want
you?”

     She saw pain in his eyes and she reached
out to touch him. “Marcus, the time we have shared has been wonderful and I shall
always have fond memories of Somerhill. But my place is with Christopher, and
you must find a wife who will worship the ground you walk on. But that wife
isn't me.”

     She turned to gaze adoringly at Christopher
as Richard moved forward and took her with him. The rest of the knights and
officials cleared out after them.  Alone in the room, Christopher and Marcus
faced off.

     “You did not have to kill Anthony,”
Christopher said, posturing defensively.

     “I did. He wanted to kill me,” Marcus
replied.

     Christopher suddenly stopped his advance.
“Marcus, what would have become of us if Dustin did not exist?”

     Marcus stopped, too.  He thought a moment.
“I suppose we would still be the best of friends, carousing Windsor and bedding
wenches.”

     Christopher head bobbed in a nod. “Do you
remember the Countess of Ixloe?”

     Marcus nodded. “Absolutely. The biggest
tits I have ever seen.”

     Christopher snorted. “She paid you as if
you were a common whore.”

     Marcus snorted in return. “And you got a
sable cloak out of her.”

     “Better than money,” Christopher insisted.
“Or what about the time we got into that fight in Constantinople? In the beer
house?”

     Marcus lowered his sword and raised his
faceplate. “Those idiots deserved it. French bastards, insulting Richard as
they did.''

     “Richard beat the hell out of them,”
Christopher lowered his own sword, grinning. “He always intimidated the hell
out of me after that, although I never let on. And David; Christ, do you
remember when David bedded that ambassador's daughter?”

     Marcus laughed, warming to the
conversation, all but forgetting his hurt and anger. “Hell yes, I do. We had to
smuggle him out of the city because there was a damn price on his head.”

     “We were clever bastards, weren't we?”
Christopher's eyes twinkled, his smile fading as he fixed on the man he had
loved like a brother. “What in the hell happened? One minute you were my best
friend, and the next minute we are preparing to kill one another.”

     Marcus' smile faded, too. With a grunt, he
sat heavily on the nearest chair. “We fell in love with the same woman.”

     “Is that it?” Christopher sat across from
him, wincing when his armor jabbed his scar. “I thought it would be something
much more complicated than that to make us want to kill one another.”

     Marcus sighed heavily. “I do not want to
kill you, Chris. But I love Dustin.”

     “As do I,” Christopher said softly. “She
was my wife first, Marcus. The children are mine, no matter how much you love
them. I do not want to die; I do not want you to die. I am sorry for all of this,
I truly am, and I appreciate the fact that you took my wife and child as your
own. God only knows not many men would do what you have done, and I am deeply
thankful. But I am back now, and I want my family. You would kill me for
wanting what is my right?”

     Marcus met his gaze a moment before looking
away. After several long seconds, he slapped his leg in defeat. “I love her,
Chris. I have always loved her.”

     “And she loves me,” Christopher returned
gently. “I shall not share her with you, my friend. You shall have to find your
own wife.”

     Marcus gazed back at him, resignation and
hurt written in his eyes. After a moment, he let out a hissing sigh and turned
his head. “Sometimes I wish I had never heard the name Dustin Barringdon,
either.”

     “Then that is where we part opinions,”
Christopher replied. “I cannot imagine my life if I had not married Arthur's
daughter.”

     They sat together a long while in silence,
each man to his own thoughts, Christopher wondering if Marcus was still going
to fight him. He hoped not, for he would surely kill his friend. It might take
some time, but he had no doubt he would be the victor. His heart ached for the
friendship they used to have, for the way things used to be.

     “I shall let you take Dustin on one
condition, then,” Marcus said finally. “That you leave Christin here with me.”

     Christopher was surprised. “Why would you
say that?”

     Marcus cleared his throat, dropping his
gaze. “I think...I think she is my daughter, Chris, and I shall tell you why.
You may want to kill me after you hear this.” He stood up. “The night I left
London, do you remember you asked me to watch over your wife while you met with
the justices?”

     “I do,” Christopher nodded, seriously
curious.

     Marcus swallowed, finding this confession
harder than he once thought. “Dud left me alone with Dustin, and if you recall,
she had been very angry with me over her miscarriage. Hell, Chris, I had to
talk some sense into her, so I went into her bedchamber hoping to have a few
words with her.” His voice was quiet. “It was almost black in the room; I could
scarce see my hand in front of my face. When I knelt down to wake her, she
thought that I was you and immediately pulled me onto the bed with her. I could
have stopped her, but I am guilty in that I was far gone in love with her and I
did not want to stop her. She thought it was you the entire time, Chris, she
kept calling your name, but I did not care. I took her and I did not regret it.
But I left London because I could not bear to see her with you after that.”

     Christopher's face went hard with shock and
anger but he kept his customary composure. “And you think Christin is your
daughter?”

     “She was born early, wasn't she?” Marcus
said. “She has dark hair, like me. Dustin isn't even sure if she's your
daughter.”

     He stared at Marcus a moment. “Then she
did, in fact, know it was you who took her that night?”

     “She said she thought she dreamed it, and I
assured her that she did not,” he replied. “I never meant to betray you, Chris.
But I could not help myself.”

     Christopher looked away, those events
suddenly rushing back to him with amazing clarity. He remembered well when
Dustin accused him of making love to her, and he had insisted that she had only
dreamed it.
Damnation
! Then it hadn’t been a dream, after all. He remembered
her moods, how bitterly she had hated Marcus. All of it suddenly became clear
and he felt distinctly less benevolent toward his friend. To think that his
sweet little daughter may, in fact, not be his after all spread anguish in his
heart. And he felt doubly foolish for denying the very fact to his brother. Had
David been wiser than he when it came to Dustin? Had he been right all along?