Rise of the Defender (4 page)

     Rebecca started to protest but David grabbed
her and seated her on his destrier before she could put up a fight. Christopher
scooped up Dustin and managed to mount his own steed with surprising ease. She
was light, this one, and small, too. Standing her full height she barely met his
chest. She was little more than a child in his arms.

     He stole a glance at her as he gathered his
reins. Her lips moistly parted, she looked to be sleeping in his arms. Her
hair, so incredibly long and silken, hung all over them both and he had to pull
it free from the joints in his armor a couple of times. He could feel lust
warming his veins. Spurring his great warhorse, they proceeded on to Lioncross Abbey.

     Lioncross Abbey was so named because it was
built on the sight of an ancient Roman house of worship and actually
incorporated portions of two walls and part of the foundation.   Additionally, Arthur
Barringdon had christened it Lioncross after Richard and the quest. Prior to
Arthur inheriting the keep from his father, it had been named Barringdon Abbey.
Some older people in the region still referred to it as such.

     The fortress sat atop a ridge overlooking a
large lake and the deep purple mountains that marked the Welsh border could be
seen in the distance. Thick banks of trees surrounded the fortress and made the
region appear lush and fertile, even in the dead of winter.

     Christopher took a good look at what was to
be his new home, verily pleased. It was a fine fortress, easy to defend, with a
small village about a half mile to the north. He found himself growing more and
more satisfied with each passing step of his horse. Aye, he was worthy to be
lord of this. He already found himself making mental notes about the structure,
what needed improvement and reminding himself to ask questions about the
revenues. As fine a warrior as he was, he was an equally fine scholar and knew
what it would take to make Lioncross a profitable keep.

     Dustin stirred in his arms and he was
reminded of his burden. He looked down at her just in time to see her lids
opening, slowly, as if a curtain rising. Again, he was entranced with the
bright gray eyes and noted the thick lashes as she blinked. She was staring up
at the sky as if trying to remember where in the world she was when her gaze
fell on him. She blinked once, focused on his pale blue eyes, and then sat up
so fast he had to throw his arm down on her to keep her from pitching herself
right off of his horse.

     “Put me down!” she hollered.

     “Steady, my lady,” he said. “We're almost
back to your keep.”

     Her head snapped to the horizon where
Lioncross indeed loomed.  She began to struggle against him and he could not
understand her panic, but he relented and let her slide to the ground.

     She took off like a rabbit, her skirts up
around her thighs as she pounded down the road. That incredible mane of hair
waved behind her like a banner. Rebecca, not to be left behind, jumped from
David’s destrier and ran after her.

     David reined his steed alongside his
brother’s, both of them watching the racing figures. “Now, what do you suppose
that is all about?” David wondered aloud.

     Christopher shook his head. “I have no
idea,” he replied, then grinned at his brother. “What think you of my new keep?”

     David nodded his approval. “Exceptional. As
is your new bride.”

     Christopher cocked a blond eyebrow. “I am
surprised as well,” he admitted. “Lady Dustin Barringdon looks nothing as I imagined.”

     “With a name like Dustin, I had no idea
what to think,” David snorted.

     “Nor did I, little brother,” Christopher
agreed.

     They entered the outskirts of the little
village, passing an interested eye over the small buildings and tradesman's
shacks. It smelled like sewage and livestock, and bits of dust kicked up in the
occasional breeze. The road leading to Lioncross was a wide one and peasants
scattered to stay clear of the approaching army. Christopher's horse accidentally
crushed a chicken and sent a woman wailing, much to his displeasure.

     Finally, the jewel of Lioncross loomed
before them. The gates of the fortress yawned open before them and he halted
the caravan with a raised arm.

     “This will cease,” he indicated the open
gates. “With Wales so close, these people are fools to leave themselves
vulnerable.”

     Beckoning David forward with him, he left
the rest of his troops outside the gates. There was one bailey to Lioncross, a
huge open thing used for a myriad of purposes. He studied it intently, already
noting what needed changing as he and David rode for the massive double doors
of the entry.

     Sentries met them at the base of the front
steps. Christopher announced himself and his purpose, and waited while one of
the guards disappeared inside. He reappeared several minutes later followed by
another man dressed in mail and portions of plate armor.

     The knight studied Christopher with piercing
dark eyes. He was not particularly tall, but Christopher could see the muscles
on the man.  He was a seasoned warrior. His face was severely angled with a
sharp nose and a sharp mouth. Immediately, he sensed hostility.

     “What is your business here?” the man
demanded in a strong Germanic accent.

     “I am Sir Christopher de Lohr,” he
repeated, matching the man's tone. “I bear a message for Lady Mary Barringdon
from King Richard.”

     The man looked Christopher up and down, taking
a step toward him. “Give it to me and I will see that it is delivered.”

     “I have been instructed by our king to
deliver it personally,” Christopher said evenly. “I would deliver it now.”

     The man didn't say anything but continued
to glare until Christopher finally had enough of his animosity. Dismounting without
permission, he removed two scrolls of parchment from his saddlebags and walked
deliberately to the soldier, holding out one of the missives for him to see.

     “Richard's seal,” he stated in case the
soldier was blind. “Twould be unwise of you to go against our king. Now move
aside or escort me in; ‘tis all the same to me.”

     The soldier stared at the seal, knowing it
for what it was. He tore his eyes away and looked at Christopher again, but
this time, with less hostility.

     “You scared the devil out of Lady Dustin,”
he said in a low voice. “For that I should gut you right now, but because you
bear the missives from our king, you shall be spared.”

     Christopher almost laughed. David, in fact,
did, drawing the soldier’s angry glare.  The battle lines were already being
drawn.

     “What is your name?” Christopher demanded
of the warrior.

     “Sir Jeffrey Kessler,” he replied. “I am
captain of Lioncross while Lord Barringdon is away.”

     Arthur had made no mention of a captain but
it was of no matter. Christopher would dismiss the man as soon as he wed the
fair Lady Dustin and put David in charge of the men.

     “Gain us entrance, Sir Jeffrey,”
Christopher requested, but it sounded suspiciously like an order.

     Jeffrey’s gaze lingered on Christopher
before complying, just long enough to emphasize he could not be ordered around
by a stranger. Christopher followed, somewhat hesitantly, wondering if he
shouldn’t bring a contingent of men to protect him against any trickery from
the Germanic knight. 

     He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword just
in case as he followed the man into the dark and musty keep beyond.

***

     Dustin stood in her mother's drawing room,
pacing endlessly by the oilcloth-covered windows. Lady Mary, unflappable as
always, continued to calmly work on a piece of needlework, ignoring her
daughter's sighs and grunts of worry.

     “Why do not you change your dress, dear?”
her mother said calmly. “We have visitors.”

     Dustin glanced down at her surcoat. It
wasn't even really a surcoat, it was just a dress made from faded brown linen,
and a darker brown girdle that would have emphasized the magnificence of her
breasts had the white linen blouse not been so over-sized. Dustin never gave
any thought to her clothes, mostly concerned with the other aspects of her busy
life. As long as they were clean and functional, it was all that mattered.

     “Why?” she asked, rather clueless.

     Her mother put the sewing down. “Because
you look like a peasant waif,” she said patiently. “Look at your slippers -
they are dirty, as are your hose. Please change into something more
appropriate.

     “Appropriate for what?'“ Dustin wanted to
know. “Appropriate to hear of father’s death?”

     “Do not raise your voice, please,” her
mother said quietly.  She was a pale woman with black hair hidden beneath a
wimple. She’d never been particularly well and had spent the majority of her
life reclining one way or the other. It was a great contrast to Dustin’s vigor.
“You shame your father dressed as you are. Please go and change.”

     Dustin grunted in frustration and turned to
her mother to argue until she realized the woman's hands were shaking. Her
heart sank with despair for her mother's feelings. She knew how much the woman had
loved her father.  She forgot her own feelings as she focused on what her
mother was surely feeling. 

     “I am sorry, Mother,” she said, forcing
down her lofty pride as she went to kneel by her chair. “I did not mean it. The
truth is that the knight never actually said father was dead. I really do not
know why he is here.”

     Mary stroked her daughter's blond head. “I
know,” she smiled gently. “Now, please, go change your clothes. That would
please me.”

     “Is there anything else I can do for you?
Wine, perhaps?”

     “Nay, my dear.  Hurry along now and do as
you are told.”

     With a reluctant nod, Dustin rose and moved
for the door. She crossed the threshold and turned the corner only to run
headlong into a broad, armored body.

     It was a strong impact. Dustin shrieked,
jumping back as if she'd been burned as her eyes flew up to face her accoster.
The same sky-blue eyes that she had seen earlier smoldered back at her, now
with something more than mere politeness. Now, there was something appraising
there.

     “My apologies,” Christopher said.

     Dustin nodded unsteadily as Jeffrey led Christopher
into the drawing room, leaving Dustin standing in the corridor with her hand on
her throat, wondering how a mere gaze could make her feel so vulnerable. De
Lohr’s eyes were piercing and consuming, something she’d never experienced
before. It was an odd sensation. Coming back to her senses, she rushed to her
bedchamber to do her mother's bidding.

     Ready or not, she wanted to hear what the
man had to say.

CHAPTER
TWO

     Dressed In a soft blue surcoat that, even
with its simplicity, was just about the nicest surcoat she owned, Dustin
scurried back down to her mother’s drawing room. The full blue skirt was fitted
around her slim waist with a black girdle and a snug-fitting white blouse, much
more flattering to her figure than the usual sloppy dresses she bound about in.
Her cascading hair was pulled back to the nape of her neck and secured,
revealing the sweetness of her face. But Dustin truly didn't care how she
looked; she'd only cleaned herself up and changed clothes to please her mother.

     Eager to get back to the center of action,
she took the great stone stairs two at a time and nearly ran across the foyer
and into the solar.

     What she saw upon her arrival shocked her.
Her mother, face in her white hand, was obviously crying. Jeffrey, pale and
drawn, stood next to her. Anger flared in her chest and she turned accusingly
to the strange knight.

     But what confronted her unbalanced her
completely. The knight had taken off his helmet, revealing a great crown of
dark blond hair slicked back against his skull. His features were rugged and
masculine, and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache embraced his square jaw. He
was indeed handsome, in her opinion, but she angrily chased those thoughts away.
The fact remained that this man had said something terrible to upset her
mother.

     “What goes on here?” she demanded.

     Jeffrey attempted to answer but Mary cut
him off. “Come in here, Dustin. Please sit.”

     Increasingly of-balance, Dustin took the
indicated chair, which happened to be close to the knight. Mary sniffed
daintily and dabbed at her eyes before speaking to her daughter.

     “Dustin, I believe you have met Sir
Christopher de Lohr. He served with your father and our king, Richard, in the Holy
Land,” she said softly. “As you suspected, my dear girl, the message he bore
concerned your father's demise this past summer.”