Rise of the Defender (37 page)

     “Do you have a strip of leather I can use?”
she asked, bailing from the animal and stroking his frothing nose.  “Three feet
or so should be enough.”

     David dismounted his steed and fumbled
around in his saddlebags. He drew forth a length of rolled leather and handed
it to her. Holding the horse’s head still as she tied the leather onto the
chinstrap of the bridle, Dustin ran it between his front legs and secured it to
the cinch of the saddle. The knights watched her work quickly and expertly,
tying a knot as well as any man.       When she was done, she stood back and
tested the strength and length of the leather.

     “That should do well enough,” she said,
motioning to David to help her mount.

     Christopher moved the company forward again.
As before, Hercules danced and snorted and did fancy little sidesteps, but the
strap she had secured under his chin kept him from throwing his head wild,
saving Dustin’s strength and her hands and actually calming the horse a bit. When
she was sure the steed was somewhat under control, she glanced up at her
husband and saw that he was looking at her, although she could not see his face.
She smiled anyway.

     Christopher was quite amazed with his
little wife's skill with the horse. She was such a paradox to him, sweet and
feminine and more sensual than any woman he had ever known, yet she could ride
better than most men and could fight like a ruffian. And the most wonderful
thing was, he realized, was that she belonged to him He told her once that he
would know everything about her but he wondered if he ever truly would.

     The rain was steady and they rode until
after nightfall, when they came upon a small inn that looked as if it was
leaning somewhat to the left. Everything sloped sideways. But it was presumably
warm and dry. Christopher dismounted, ordering his men to set up a camp in the
meadow adjacent to the inn, and made his way to his wife.

     Dustin sat atop Hercules as David and the
other knights saw to the men and to the horses. She smiled wanly at her husband
as he approached and held up his hands to her. Wearily, she slid into them.

     He lowered her to the ground, too busy
making sure all was riding smoothly with his troops to notice much about her.
He continued to give orders even as he opened the inn door for Dustin, finally
quieting long enough to enter himself. He flipped up his visor, his blue eyes
scanning the common room of the inn, which did not seem to lean as the outside
structure would indicate. Smelling like unwashed bodies, the room was
nonetheless dry. The innkeeper, a small man with a red face, dashed to greet
his new guests.

     “My lord, my lady.” he said respectfully. “A
room for ye on this miserable night?”

     “Indeed,” Christopher replied. “And for my
knights as well. Three rooms should be adequate.”

     “Of course, my lord,” the man glanced at
Dustin. “And a bath for your wife?”

     “She would be grateful,” Christopher said
as the maids were hustled in by Leeton. The door slammed once more and
Christopher turned back to the innkeeper. “But now, we would eat.”

     The innkeeper looked at Dustin again and
Christopher wandered what the man found so interesting about her other than her
obvious beauty. He finally looked at his wife and was appalled to see how pale
she was. And she was soaked to the skin.

     “Christ,” he murmured. “Bath now, man, food
later.
Move
.”

     The innkeeper jumped, yelling for his wife
and for a bath to be prepared. Christopher put his arm around Dustin’s
shoulders, following the man up the stairs and to the right. He led them down
two doors and into a small but comfortable room.

     “The bath will be here shortly, my lord,”
the man said.

     Christopher ripped off his gauntlets and
set to removing Dustin’s hood and cloak. “Feed my men when they come in,” he ordered
quietly. “My wife and I will take our meal in our room.”

     “As you wish, my lord,” the innkeeper
backed out and closed the door.

     When he was gone, Christopher let out a
hiss. “Dustin, why didn’t you tell me you were wet through?”

     Her teeth were chattering. “You….you told
me no complaints.”

     He swore softly, pulling her wet cloak free
and throwing it to the floor. “Take off your gloves, sweetheart,” he said.

     She held out her hands stiffly, looking
somewhat embarrassed. “I can’t. My hands are too cold.”

     He loosened the fingers of her right glove
and pulled, startled when she let out a stifled cry. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

     She looked sheepish, embarrassed that she
was causing so much concern. When she didn’t reply, he gingerly pulled the
glove free and saw her source of pain. Wrestling with the horse all afternoon
had rendered her palms blistered, bloodied and raw. He clucked softly,
examining her hands.

     “Oh, Dustin,” he murmured regretfully. “Why
didn’t you tell me?”

     “Because you told me not to complain,” she
repeated. “Besides, I wanted to ride with you and the others. I do not like
riding in the wagon.”

     He removed her other glove carefully,
tossing it aside. There was a knock at the door and he went to open it, moving
aside as a plump woman and three men brought in a large copper tub and began filling
it with hot water. Dustin sank wearily on the nearest chair, waiting patiently
while her bath was filled and wanting nothing more than to bathe and go to
sleep. She was so exhausted that food had even lost its appeal.

     An inn maid came in, bearing linen towels
and a large bar of soap. Christopher could see that she expected to stay, but
he sternly chased everyone out, bolting the door behind them.

     “Stand up, sweet, let me get you out of
that dress,” he approached her once more.

     The dress, all the way down to the woolen
shift, was wet. Her skin was pale and icy to the touch and he helped her into
the tub, up to her neck in the hot water. The chill began to flee as she lay
back, feeling her blood began to flow again. Reclining against the side of the
tub, Dustin watched her husband remove his armor and the rest of his wet
clothing, save his breeches. Then, he poured himself a cup of wine and faced
her.

     “Feeling better?” he asked.

     She nodded. “Much. My blood is warming.”

     He nodded, taking a sip of wine before
holding the cup to her lips. She took a healthy drink, thanking him with an
appreciative look. He smiled and crouched next to the tub, his eyes grazing
her.

     “You will not be able to ride tomorrow with
those hands,” he said. “I shall bind them up tonight and tomorrow you can wear
your gloves over the wounds to protect them.”

     Her face fell. “But I want to ride with you.
I have ridden with my hands worse than this, and…”

     “You can ride with me, sweetheart, in front
of me,” he put in, cutting her off. “Any woman who would withstand such vicious
hardships on my behalf I would not dare deny.”

     Relieved, she took another sip of wine and
he noticed that her cheeks were regaining their color. There was a knock at the
door then, and he rose on his long legs.

     “Who comes?” he demanded harshly.

     “’Tis us, m’lord.” Came an older female
voice. “Your wife’s maids.”

     He glanced at Dustin. “Are you content that
I may go out and see to my men?”

     She nodded. “Verily, husband. I feel much
better now.”

     He smiled faintly. “Good. I shall return
later.”

     “Can we sup downstairs, in the common room?”
she sat up in the tub, looking eager.

     His brows drew together. “What about your
hands? And you must be exhausted, Dustin.”

     “Please?” she begged. “I have never supped
at an inn before.”

     He put his hands on his hips. “There will
be another time for that,” he said. “Tonight we will sup in our room and go to
bed early. I plan to be on the road to London before dawn.”

     Her expression went downcast but she didn't
argue the point. He was sorry that he had to refuse her, but he believed it
would be best if they kept to themselves. He had seen the way she became when
she was around his knights. She demanded to be entertained and loved the
company. He could only imagine that she would find a way to stay up all night
if they supped in the common room with the various travelers. She wouldn’t rest
until she had talked to every one of them.

     He opened the door for the maids and the
two plump women bustled in, their arms laden with items for Dustin. He had one
of the women help him on with his hauberk and he shook the water off his helmet
before shoving it on. He paused, turning to his wife where she sat in the great
tub, one woman drying her hair with a towel and the other scrubbing her right
calf and foot with soap and a horsehair brush. Their eyes met and she smiled.

     “I shall return shortly,” he said, opening
the door and closing it quickly behind him.

     Dustin closed her eyes as the maid rubbed
her head a bit too hard, yet her mind followed her husband back down the hall,
down the stairs, and out into the elements. It was as if with every passing
minute, she became more and more attached to him. If he were to suddenly leave
her, she knew she would be utterly lost. She wondered if she clung to him
because he was the only familiar person she had left and a recent acquaintance
at that. But she also wondered if she clung to him because she felt more than
simple fondness and comfort. Something told her it was much, much more.

     Christopher returned to the inn almost two
hours later, sputtering water and saturated through and through. David, Leeton
and Edward followed close behind him, slamming the heavy inn door to block out
the harsh climate. They stood for a moment shaking water off them as the
innkeeper approached eagerly.

     “Ready for your meal, good knights?” he
asked anxiously.

     Christopher nodded. “My knights will take
their meal down here, but I will eat with my wife in our room.”

     “We’re eating down here,” Dustin said from
the top of the stairs.

     They all looked up at her as she descended
the stairs, her damp blond hair flowing about her like a golden cape and
dressed in a soft woolen surcoat of muted red. As simple as it was, it clung to
her voluptuous form and Christopher was alternately admiring the picture she
presented and highly irritated that she was disobeying his wishes. She approached
him, the full skirt swirling about her and soaking up the water on the floor.

     “Dustin, I told you we would eat in our
room,” he said evenly. Then he looked at his knights. “Take your meal.”

     “But I want to eat down here,” she said,
helping David remove the mail gloves he was struggling with. “Please, Chris? It
is much nicer than our cramped little room, and besides, I have been having the
most wonderful conversation with the serving girl,” she pointed over her
shoulder, “over there. Her name is Rachel.”

     Christopher flipped up his visor. “You have
been in the common room conversing?”

     “Aye, I have,” she said, not registering
his tone of voice. As she spoke, Christopher glanced around to the other
occupants of the room. Three other knights sat at the far corner, partially
obscured by the shadows. Three other tables were occupied by one or two men,
most likely traveling merchants, but he was dismayed that his wife had been in
the common room, unescorted, making a spectacle of herself.  Her chatter roused
him from his thoughts. “I ordered roast beef, and a beef and barley soup, and
ale, and baked apples with honey and cinnamon. And do you know what else? The
cook has a cat.”

     He looked at her, honestly stunned that she
saw nothing wrong with her behavior. David, seeing his brother's reaction, put
his hand protectively on Dustin’s shoulder.

     “Well and good, my lady,” he said, eyeing
his brother. “It sounds as if you have demanded a feast for us. Where would you
have us sit?”

     Dustin indicated a long table already set
with trenchers and pitchers of ale. As she and the knights moved towards it,
Christopher’s shock moved to anger. He fought it down by telling himself that
Dustin did not know of her transgression; he did not literally tell her that
she could not go down into the common room. All he had told her was that they
would eat in their rooms. She had disobeyed his wishes and for that, he would
correct her. She was too headstrong for him to let it slide.

     Dustin had just sat down as Christopher
came up behind her pulled her chair back out.  Grasping her arm, he pulled her
up to stand.

     “We will take our meal in our room,” he repeated
the order she had already heard, glancing to his knights. “You gentlemen continue
your meal and we shall see you on the morrow.”

     Dustin looked stricken. “But…but I….”

     Firmly, he pulled her with him a step or
two before the room was filled with a loud voice, directed at him.