Rise of the Defender (152 page)

     Christopher's eyes trailed across the
compound as if he could see his son though stone walls.

     Marcus walked up, removing his helmet.
“Where do you want the wagons, Chris?” he asked, oblivious to the look on
Christopher's face. When his friend did not answer, he looked closely at him.
“Chris?”

     Christopher jerked his head to Marcus. “My
son is here.”

     Marcus had no idea what he was talking
about. “Son?”

     Christopher nodded. “My son,” he repeated,
murmuring. “Lady Amanda’s son.”

     Marcus looked puzzled a moment longer
before realization dawned. “The lad you told me of? He is here?”

     Christopher could only nod his head. Dustin
suddenly reemerged from the castle and he seemed to snap out of his shocked
state. “Christ, I must tell Dustin.”

     “Too late,” Jeffrey murmured, and they all
turned their head to see a young boy crossing the courtyard toward them. It was
obvious to anyone who looked at him that he was Christopher's son, he was an
exact miniature copy and Christopher's breathing stopped as his eyes beheld his
son for the first time.

     There was nothing they could do to stop the
inevitable, Dustin was closer to the boy than they were and she immediately
smiled curiously at the lad. The boy stopped and returned her smile.

    
Christ,
Christopher thought,
he
even smiles like me
. He should have been apprehensive as hell, but he found
he was not. He knew his wife well enough to know she would be rational about
this unexpected turn. At least, he hoped so.

     “Hello,” she said. “Who are you?”

     ''Peter Myles de Vries, my lady,” he
replied with a practiced bow.

     “What are you doing at Lioncross, Peter?”
she asked pleasantly. “Are you visiting someone?”

     “Nay, my lady, I am here to meet my
father,” he replied. At six years old, he was very mature for his age. “My
father is Baron Christopher. Do you know where he is?”

     Dustin's smile vanished. She stared at the
boy a long moment before tearing her gaze away and seeking out her husband.
Christopher stood with Jeffrey and Marcus, all three men were staring back at
her with different degrees of apprehension, yet none more pronounced than
Christopher's.

    
Christopher's son
.  She looked back
at the lad and saw that he was a smaller version of her husband, perfect and
handsome and mannerly. She fully realized she should become furious, incensed,
shocked at the very least, but she knew in the same breath that she could not
muster the emotions. She knew Christopher as well as she knew herself, and she
knew he would not be deliberately deceitful or try to hurt her. It just did not
matter anymore. They had been through too much together and she simply could not
be angry with him.

     The boy was looking up at her with a sweet,
innocent expression and she warmed to him; he was indeed her beloved's son and
she would treat him as if he were her very own. She had enough love for a
houseful of children; not limited to her own flesh and blood.

     Dustin held her hand out to the boy and her
smile reappeared. “Come with me, Peter. I shall introduce you.”

     Christopher watched in stunned silence as
his wife led his son directly to him.

     “Christopher, this is Peter Myles de Vries,”
she said. “Greet your son.”

     Christopher tore his eyes from his wife and
faced his son. “Welcome to Lioncross, Peter.”

     Peter bowed like a gallant little
gentleman. “Thank you, my lord. I like it here already.”

     “I am pleased, then,” Christopher answered,
recovering his shock. “I am sorry to hear of your mother's passing.”

     Peter's handsome little face rippled. “Me,
too. But mother always told me that if anything was to happen to her, then I
would come and live with you in England. Is it true you are the greatest
warrior in Richard's army?”

     “Without a doubt, lad,” Marcus said over
Christopher's shoulder. “Your father is the greatest knight who has ever
lived.”

     Peter's young face lit up with pride. “My
mother said that. I want to be a great knight, too.”

     “You will be,” Dustin said softly, putting
her hand on his shoulder. “You are most definitely your father's son. I can see
it already.”

     Peter was nearly bursting with pride. He
grinned unabashedly at his father and Christopher smiled faintly, tousling the
boy's hair. “Return to the keep, then, and I shall speak with you after my men
are settled.”

     His face as radiant as the sun, Peter
turned tail and raced back into the castle. Christopher looked at his wife when
the boy had disappeared through the door.

     “Dustin,” he began softly.

     She put her fingers to his lips as Marcus
and Jeffrey made themselves scarce. “He's a beautiful boy, Chris. Have you
known about him all along?”

     He shook his head. “His mother informed me
only last year,” he replied softly. “I am sorry I never told you. I never
thought to see the lad and simply saw no point in it.”

     “Who's his mother?” Dustin asked.

     “Lady Amanda de Fortlage,” he replied.
“Although you were never introduced to her, you did see her last year at one of
the parties John gave. She was at the grand ball we attended right after you
discovered your pregnancy.”

     “I remember,” Dustin nodded. “When David
first met Emilie. Lady Amanda was the dark-haired woman you spoke with.”

     “Aye,” he nodded. “Are you angry?”

     She smiled. “Should I be? I am not, truly.
He seems like a very nice young man.”

     He let out a sign of pure relief, pure
disbelief in the realization that his son was here, at Lioncross. “Lady de
Lohr, you are a wise, remarkable woman. I cannot tell you how glad I am that I
married you.”

     She wound her arms around his waist. “Or
were forced to marry me, as it were.”

     He grinned and brushed his lips against
hers. “Aye, forced to indeed.”

     They gazed at each other, love and
adoration filling the air engulfing them. Never had Christopher been so happy.
Never had Dustin been so entirely content.

     “Here, take your daughter.” David walked up
to them, holding Christin out to her parents. “She smells fully ripe.”

     Dustin took Christin with a chuckle. “Do
not be such a coward, David.”

     “I am not.” he insisted, propping his
helmet up on his head. “By the way, who was that young boy? He looked
familiar.”

     Christopher looked at his daughter, his
wife. “He's your nephew, David. The result of a liaison between Lady Amanda de
Fountaine and myself. Lady Amanda and her husband passed away recently, so the
boy has come to live with me.”

     David's eyes widened. “Jesus Chr... your
son? No wonder he looks familiar.”

     Dustin patted Christopher's cheek in an
affectionate gesture. “He is beautiful, just like his father. Now, I really
must go and change Christin out of these smelly clothes.”

     Christopher watched his wife walk away,
still astonished with the ease in which she had accepted his bastard. No
questions, no anger, no tears of humiliation. He was stunned and so very
relieved at the same time, but he saw a definite wisdom that had come to his
wife since he had been married to her. She was calmer, more accepting, far more
in control of herself. He knew he had the extreme situations to thank for her
maturity, although he would not have put her though any of them had he had the
choice.

     “I am shocked, Chris,” David murmured. “You
never told me that Amanda was pregnant.”

     “I did not know until I saw her at Windsor
last year,” Christopher said. “I honestly never thought to see the boy, so I
told no one, save Marcus.”

     “Marcus knew?” David asked, incensed that
his brother had seen fit to tell a friend, but not him.

     Christopher put up a placating hand. “I had
no choice but to tell him; however, we shall get into that later. Right now I
would see to my wife and daughter, and then become better acquainted with my
son.”

     David watched his brother cross the
compound, watching as the Defender's eyes roved his keep, making sure there was
nothing out of the ordinary or changed. He shook his head and turned away, life
was certainly full of surprises. Now if he could only hope Emilie would be as
understanding as Dustin when he explained to her that he had pledged his
services to Richard to help his king reclaim his holdings. Wives, like
brothers, were confusing creatures.

     Marcus passed David and was good-naturedly
surprised to be the recipient of a slug to the arm. He eyed David with a grin,
just like old times. David pretended to ignore him as he joined Edward in
disassembling the men-at-arms. Picking up a rock, he sailed it at David and
struck the man in the back of the helm. David flinched, turned and shook his
fist at Marcus menacingly.

     Gabrielle was waiting patiently by Marcus'
destrier, expecting to be shown into the keep by the general. Marcus grabbed
her few items from his saddlebags and rounded his horse, his smile pleasant
upon her.

     “I would thank you again for the kindness
you have shown me, sire,” she said. “I will be forever in your debt.”

     He held out his elbow to her. “Nonsense.
You owe me nothing.”

     She flushed a pretty shade of pink as he
led her toward the keep. Her eye deliberately avoided him, instead, skimming
the castle. “This is a large place. Well kept, too.”

     “Thanks to the baron,” Marcus replied. “You
shall like it here.”

     “I know I will,” she replied. “Lady Dustin
has been very kind to me.”

     He nodded, his smile fading. “She is a kind
person.”

     Gabrielle looked at him, her heart going
out to the man who had loved and lost. He was so very handsome, so very strong,
and she could feel her own heart breaking, she could never hope to have a man
as grand as Marcus Burton, not after what had happened. But even so, she wished
him much happiness someday when he had gotten over Lady Dustin.

     “The weather is much more severe here than
in the south where you are from,” Marcus said. “Even the summers seem warmer.”

     Gabrielle snorted lady-like. “I doubt it.
Summers were most miserable in Penzance.”

     Marcus grinned, leading her up the steps.
“Summers at Somerhill are very pleasant. You shall have to visit sometime.”

     Gabrielle’s heart leapt into her throat,
fighting back the wishing and hoping that was flooding her soul. “I would like
that, sire,” she replied evenly, although she felt as if she could gush like a
fool.

     He paused at the top of the steps and faced
her, studying the fine-boned lines of her face. “Call me Marcus, if you will.
Might I call you Gabrielle?”

     Gabrielle thought she was going to faint
with sheer happiness. “I would consider it an honor, si....Marcus.”

     He grinned at her and she smiled back.
Together, they entered the great keep that was Lioncross.

     Griselda had met Christopher at the top of
the stairs. The old woman had stayed on after the birth of Deborah's son
because of the difficulties the child had and had never left. Even now, Deborah
was expecting again and Griselda had no shortage of patients. Christopher could
see that the old woman was greatly concerned.

     “Welcome home, my lord,” she bowed quickly.

     He eyed her. “What's wrong?”

     Griselda came straight to the point. “Your
wife, sire. After her long trip, she must rest and she is refusing to listen to
me.”

     Christopher shrugged, his fatigue catching
up with him. “She seems healthy enough to me, but I will see that she rests
well for the rest of the day.”

     Griselda held up a finger. “Not just this
day, sire, but until the child is born. We do not want a repeat of what
happened with your daughter.”

     Christopher's brows came together. “What do
you mean?”

     “I mean that the child was early,” Griselda
said. “We must make sure that this child she carries is not early.”

     Christopher froze. “Christin was early?”

     “Aye, she was,” Griselda repeated
patiently. “You yourself mentioned that fact, even though I did not believe it,
but you were nonetheless right. We must make sure this child comes full term.”

     It took him a moment to realize he had
stopped breathing. Slowly, he resumed his intake of air but there was no
mistaking the shock of emotions that were filling him. The old woman had just
made his life complete and she did not even know it.

     “You are sure Christin was early?” he
asked, his voice strangely raspy.

     “I'd stake my reputation on it, sire,”
Griselda said confidently.

     He stared at the old woman a moment. Then,
he grasped her gently by her bony shoulders and planted a loud kiss on her
wrinkled old forehead.