Rise of the Defender (38 page)

     “De Lohr, I have never known you to force a
woman to do your bidding.” The voice was deep and masculine. “What’s wrong,
Lion's Claw? Losing your touch with the fairer sex?”

     Christopher’s expression never wavered, but
David, Leeton, and Edward stood immediately, hands on the hilts of their swords.
Dustin’s eyes were wide, for she could sense the tension in the men. 
Christopher’s grip on her tightened.

     “Show yourself,” Christopher demanded
steadily.

     “In good time,” the man said casually.   “I
cannot believe you do not recognize my voice, old man. You should. You heard it
every day for three years.”

     Christopher didn’t look overly worried, but
Dustin was growing terrified. He let go of his wife and moved closer to the man
and his two companions. His manner was steady but his body was coiled, his hand
close to the hilt of his sword.

     “I could scarce believe when you called
that exquisite creature your wife,” the man continued. “How in the hell did you
get to be so fortunate? I have been watching her for the better part of an hour
and I can tell you, she is beyond believing. Where did you find her and, more
importantly, does she have any sisters?”

     Christopher’s eyes glittered, his jaw twitching
underneath the beard. “Show yourself, bastard, or I shall cut your heart out.”

     After an eternal pause, the man rose on
long, muscular legs. He straightened his armor, taking his time about it,
before stepping forward into the light. Christopher was prepared to run the man
through when the light fell on his face. Christopher's eyes widened.

     “Burton!” he gasped in surprise. A smile
crossed his face, with relief, and he took the extended hand in greeting. “Marcus
Burton. What in the hell are you doing here?”

     Sir Marcus Burton shook his liege’s hand
happily, his handsome face split in two with a wide smile.

     “Coming to see you,” he replied. “I was
told your new seat is Lioncross Abbey.”

     “Indeed it is,” Christopher’s eyes twinkled
warmly. “Christ, are you a sight. Come and greet my brother and my wife.”

     Marcus followed Christopher to the table,
greeting David with a slap to the head and punching Edward in the chest. He
knew Leeton vaguely and greeted him civilly, yet when his eyes fell on Dustin, his
manner seemed to grow warm and serious. Piercing blue eyes gazed upon her, the
color of cobalt, and he had chiseled features with a crown of cropped black
hair. Big and muscular, he was extremely handsome. The cobalt blue eyes were
intense as Christopher introduced them.

     “Marcus, the woman you have been lusting
after is my wife, Lady Dustin de Lohr,” Christopher drew her forward.  “Dustin,
this is my closest friend, Sir Marcus Burton.”

     Marcus ripped off a mailed glove and took
Dustin’s hand, bringing it to his lips. “My lady is too lovely for words,” he
said smoothly. “Forgive my boldness, but you were indeed a pleasure to watch.
Since I saw the baron leave to attend to his men, I found myself your personal
protector should any of these merchants be foolish enough to force their
attentions.”

     Dustin blushed deeply as he kissed her
hand, smiling when Christopher snatched it away. Marcus laughed. “Since when
are you so damn possessive over a woman?” he snorted. “Jesus, Chris, with all of
the woman that fawn over you….”

     Christopher cleared his throat loudly. “They
are not my wife,” he said, giving Marcus a quelling look. “Lady Dustin is, and
I appreciate you watching over her while I was indisposed.”

     “My pleasure,” Marcus said, his eyes once
again on Dustin. “She needs watching over. Is she as disobedient as I gather
she is?”

     Dustin flushed pink, wishing he would stop
looking at her as if she was a prize mare. Christopher looked at her, too, but
with a reproving gaze.

     “She is learning,” he said. “She is better
than she was.”

     The other knights were sitting down and
Marcus drew up a chair. Christopher, reluctantly, sat as well, drawing Dustin
down beside him.

     “Tell me, Chris,” Marcus said as David and
the other two began to chow down the food. “Where did you meet her? You have
only been in England a week. Was she waiting for you? You never mentioned that
you were betrothed.”

     Christopher removed his helmet, running a
hand through his blond hair. “Dustin is Sir Arthur Barringdon’s daughter,” he
said. “She, and Lioncross, were a gift from Richard.”

     Marcus nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes,
Arthur was dying when I left,” he said softly. “The old man thought a good deal
of you, Chris. So you married his daughter and gained the keep? An excellent
arrangement. However, if I had known Arthur's daughter was such a beauty, I
would have vied for her myself.”

     He was talking about Dustin as if she wasn’t
even there and it irritated her. Since Christopher wasn’t eating, she didn’t either,
and kept glancing at David as he gnawed away on a large beefy knuckle. He would
glance at her every so often and smile.

     Christopher didn't like Marcus' callous
attitude, either. But Marcus was deeply acquainted with the Christopher before
Dustin, the Christopher who would use woman for his own pleasure and who considered
them no more than a necessary nuisance. But this Christopher was disturbed by
the references to his wife, and he was unnerved that Marcus words should upset
him so. He felt unbalanced.

     “I take it, then, you were coming to Lioncross
to be in my service?” Christopher said, changing the subject.

     Marcus smiled. “Absolutely, my lord. I
would serve no other, except our glorious Richard, of course.”

     Christopher smiled faintly. “I am pleased.
Who are your vassals?”

     Marcus glanced over his shoulder to the two
knights sitting in the corner. “The younger one is my cousin, Sir Trent Burton,
and the other is Sir Thomas Dudley.”

     “Is that Dud?” Christopher studied the dark
form in the corner. “Christ, I did not recognize him. He looks years older from
when I last saw him on the sands of the Holy Land.”

     “He is,” Marcus chortled. “But he, and my
cousin, wish to serve you also if you will indeed have us.”

     Christopher looked as if he was thinking it
over. “Very well,” he said finally. “I shall take you and Dud on, but I will
have to see Sir Trent in action before I can accept his oath.”

     “He has a good deal of skill and strength,”
Marcus assured him. “Now tell me, Chris; where are you traveling?”

     “London,” Christopher’s mirth faded. Marcus
knew nothing of Richard’s directive and here was certainly not the place to
inform him. “You are coming with me.”

     “As ordered, my lord.” Marcus did not look
pleased, but held his tongue. He was far too wise to run off at the mouth in
public.

     Since they could not delve into the subject
at the moment, Christopher relented and ordered his and his wife’s trenchers
filled, and they ate while conversation bounced about the table. Sir Thomas and
Sir Trent joined them eventually, and Dustin was once again fascinated by the
tales of the Holy Land. Sir Marcus was the consummate storyteller, but he
always focused on her when he talked and she was uncomfortable with his attention.
He reminded her of the honeyed-word fools that used to call on her.

     She lost track of time listening to the
men. When the food was finished and the plates had been cleared, she was still
caught up in the stories. Marcus was in the middle of a particularly harrowing
tale when the front door to the inn blew open in a crash of rain and weather
and noise. Everyone turned to see several men in armor and mail storm in, filling
up the room with their presence.

     Dustin caught her husband’s body language
as he stiffened, as did the rest of the knights at their table. She was
apprehensive, wondering why the men had suddenly gone on-guard.

     The knights that had entered the small inn
were loud and rough, shoving and cursing each other as they made their way wearily
to one of the worn eating tables. They demanded ale and food loudly, sending
the innkeeper and the serving wench running.

     Plates of food were brought to them and
pitchers of drink. They dripped water all over the floor and in little time
bones and bits of slop were falling to the ground as they began to eat. They
were extremely loud and rambunctious, and Dustin eyed them distastefully.

     “Pigs,” she muttered.

     Christopher did not want his wife in the
same room as these hardened men. There was something unpredictable about them.
The sooner he returned her to their room and bolted the door, the better.

     “David, you and Leeton will escort my wife
to our room,” he said in a low, even voice. “One of you stay with her and bolt
the door. I shall be up shortly.”

     David rose, pulling Dustin’s chair out as Leeton
came around and took her arm. Dustin glanced at her husband with concern, not
understanding why he seemed so on edge, but he patted her arm.

     “Go on up, sweet,” he said quietly. “I
shall be along.”

     A knight at the other table pinched the
serving girl as she poured one man a cupful of ale, forcing her to cry out with
pain.  The men laughed and one of them did it again as the woman struggled to
pull away from them.  But they wouldn’t let her go, like a cat in a snare, and
they began to grab parts of her body that were sensitive and personal.

     The serving wench was in a panic and Dustin
looked to Christopher and his men to see if one of them would move to aid the
wench.  No one did. Frustrated, Dustin was about to say something to David but
a cry from the serving woman interrupted her.  The knights were starting to
stick their hands up her skirt. Dustin, unable to control her mouth, burst out
angrily.

     “Leave her alone, you pigs,” she snapped. “Keep
your fat, filthy hands off of her!”

     The entire table of knights turned to her,
their anger quickly turning into open appraisal of the serving woman’s
defender.

     “Come over here, wench, and I shall put my
fat and filthy hands all over you,” one man said and the entire table roared
with approval. “God, you are a lovely little chit. Good knights, pray be kind
to her. I should like to have your leftovers when you are finished.”

     Christopher was up, as were the rest of his
knights. Huge and powerful and imposing, he was to the other table of men in
less than a second, his sword drawn. He knocked one man who leapt up clear
across another table, grabbing the offending knight by his armor and slamming
him to the ground.

     Everyone was shouting and bellowing, the
sounds of swords being unsheathed filling the warm, stale air. Dustin lunged
for the serving girl, pulling her out of the way as Leeton grabbed them both.
David left them to plunge feet-first into the blossoming melee, sword in hand.

     Leeton jerked her half-way up the flight of
stairs when she realized that the skirmish had turned into an out-and-out
brawl. She clung to the bannister as Leeton yanked at her, watching her husband
beat the senses out of some hapless fool. She should have been mortified, but
instead, she was mesmerized and strangely energized by the sight. She knew Leeton
was trying to remove her, but she just didn't want to go. She wanted to see the
fight, and help if she could.

     “Give it to him, Chris!” she yelled, ignoring
Leeton’s tugs. “Beat him!”

     Suddenly, a knight charged at her and Leeton
thrust himself forward, kicking the man in the face and sending him tumbling
back down the stairs. Dustin crowed triumphantly.

     “That will teach you, you bastard.” she
clapped her hands.

     Leeton looked at her with amusement and
horror, a strange expression indeed. “My lady, you will come with me now or I
will carry you.”

     She opened her mouth to reply when another
knight was bearing down upon them. Dustin, gripping the railing, kicked the man
squarely in the chest plate and sent him rolling, pleased with her handiwork. Shocked,
Leeton didn’t know whether to laugh or spank her. He could not believe what he
was seeing, and he could not believe he was allowing it to go on.

     The brawl transformed from a fist-fight to
a sword fight, and the air was full of the sounds of metal on metal. Dustin
knew that the fight had gone beyond her, and she reluctantly followed Leeton up
the stairs, watching the goings-on over her shoulder. She could see Christopher
engaged with a rather large man, their swords hitting so hard that sparks flew.
David, Edward, and Marcus were involved in their own vicious battles, but
Dustin’s eyes were on her husband.

     Christopher swung the sword with incredible
confidence and power. He easily dispatched two of the men before kicking over a
large table and marching over it to assist his brother. With David’s opponent
gored, it was no time before the hostile knights collected and turned tail,
dragging their wounded comrades with them. As quickly as it started, the battle
ended, and Christopher slammed the inn door behind the retreaters so hard that
the entire building shook.