Rise of the Defender (50 page)

     She looked up at him. “Under the
circumstances, I am sure you can.…”

     He shook his head, cutting her off. “Nay,
lady, you will stay here. You may have the bed and I shall…sleep on the chair.”

     Pain such as she had never known welled in
her as she began removing her tight surcoat, anything to busy herself. She wanted
to go to sleep, to forget about this for a short while. Mayhap when she awoke,
fresh, she would be better able to cope. As it was, she was as brittle as
kindling and Christopher's presence only made her feel worse.

     “You are not going to kill Marcus, are
you?” she asked softly, fumbling weakly with her stays.

     Christopher was as close to emotionally
numb as he had ever been. He was gazing off across the room, not looking at his
wife.

     “He lied to me,” he said simply.

     Dustin's head came up, fear filling her
veins. Even if she carried no feelings for the man, she could not let her
husband kill him.

     “You will
not
kill him, Christopher.
I would as soon throw myself on your sword.”

     “This matter is between my knight and me,”
he said.

     “Nay, it is not.” Her rage was surging
again. “I am as involved as either one of you. If you kill him, then you must
kill me as well. For that matter, mayhap I should return to Lioncross and kill
the serving wench you bedded. The one who carries your bastard.”

     She ended bitterly and his eyes snapped to
her. “She does not carry my child,” he said.

     Dustin simply turned away from him, still
undoing her stays.  She was too exhausted, too emotional, to say anymore.   She
blocked him out, unable to cope.

     Christopher sat there as she undressed,
digesting everything that had happened that evening, trying to regain his
shattered composure. As shocking as her confession was, and as stunned as he
was that Marcus had lied to him, it was nothing compared to the ache in his
heart that Dustin had betrayed him. He could deal with Marcus, but handling his
feelings for his wife was a matter he had never had to confront before.

     Love was pain and weakness, and this
example was living proof. He moved past his wife, heading through the
antechamber and to the front door. Opening it, he barked orders to one of the
dozens of soldiers guarding the hall and the man took off running. With his
knights still in the dining room, he wanted extra soldiers guarding his wife.

     He left to seek out Marcus. It would seem
that there was much to discuss.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

     Christopher found himself out in one of
Windsor's elegantly manicured gardens by the massive motte, sitting in the cool
air staring out into nothingness. He was so consumed with emotion that he was
absolutely useless.

     He had intended to find Marcus, but somehow
he had gotten sidetracked on his way to the great hall and had ended up
outside, his mind filled with Dustin and the myriad of feelings he had for her.

     She had confessed, she had apologized. She
had forgiven him for his indiscretion, and compared to what he had done, hers
was barely mentionable. After all, she had not lain with the man and he was
sure of that. With all of the admissions, he was sure she had told him
everything because she was not very good with concealing her emotions. He was
furthermore sure that what had happened between her and Marcus was unplanned
and unmediated, for he knew her enough to know she was incapable of planning
such indiscretions; she was far too innocent.

     Which was most likely her problem; she
became giddy with Marcus' overbearing attention and allowed it to happen
without thinking. Yet how could he blame Marcus? The man knew a beautiful woman
when he saw one and probably kissed her before thinking, even if she was his
liege's wife. That thought frightened him, for if Marcus committed such a sin
with full knowledge, then it must mean he was more than infatuated with Dustin.
Mayhap Edward was right after all and Marcus was truly in love with Dustin.

     Christopher kicked at the dirt, frustrated
and tired and miserable. Miserable because he loved her and could not tell her,
miserable because she wouldn't believe him, anyway. Frustrated with this
tremendous distraction while he was supposed to be on a mission from the king,
and tired because his mind was working too hard trying to sort itself out.

     Across the garden came a tall, dark figure.
Christopher heard the footsteps and saw the shadow, knowing his sword was a
mere inch or so from his hand. Edward's face came into focus under the soft
moon glow.

     “Why in the hell are you out here?” he
asked, sitting on the stone bench beside Christopher. “I should think you would
be in bed with your wife.”

     Christopher didn't say anything for a
moment. “She told me that she and Marcus shared a kiss.”

     Edward wasn’t surprised, but he was
concerned. “And? God, Chris, you didn't hurt her or....”

     Christopher rolled his eyes wearily. “In
Christ's name, of course not. She is sound and whole, probably asleep with
thirty-five soldiers guarding the door and the halls. She is perfectly safe.”

     Edward let out a sigh of relief. “I knew
you would not touch her, but sometimes we do strange things in anger.” He
looked long at his liege. “What about Marcus? Are you going to call him out?”

     Christopher’s jaw ticked. “I do not give a
damn about Marcus,” he hissed. “It is Dustin I am concerned about. I do not
know what I am going to do with her.”

     “What do you mean 'do with her'?” Edward
asked, his brow furrowed.

     Christopher hissed a long, exasperated sigh
and stood up, stretching his legs. It was going to take courage to say what he
was trying to spit out and he struggled with it.

     “You were right, Edward, about everything,”
he finally said. “You knew….how I felt about my wife, but God help me, I cannot
bring myself to admit it or say it, even to myself. As I sit here wallowing in
misery, I realize that it has taken something of this magnitude to bring me to
grips with my feelings for Dustin.” He shook his head in defeat. “The woman
will be the death of me, Edward. John already knows she means a great deal to
me, but if he finds out that she is becoming my reason for living, then he will
use that against me and if anything ever happened to her, I would lose what is
left of my mind.”

     Edward smiled faintly. “I never thought I'd
ever hear you say you love her.”

     “I have not,” Christopher almost shouted.

     Edward grinned broadly. “Yes, you have, in
your own way. Tell her and draw strength from her, Chris. She loves you, too.”

     He shook his head hard. “She wouldn't
believe me. She would think I am telling her simply because I know that is what
she wishes to hear.”

     Edward watched him pace. “Why does she
frighten you?” he asked.

     Christopher stopped. “Because she holds my
life in her hands and she does not know it. Love frightens me, for it is a weak
man's disease and I do not wish to catch it.”

     “Too late,” Edward said frankly. “And you
are so wrong. Love is the most powerful strength of all. Remember your Bible,
Chris; there is no greater strength. You fought in the Holy Land for the love
of God and it made you invincible.”

     Christopher shrugged. “I fought for my love
of Richard, and he made me what I am. But what I feel for my wife is so
unexpected and overwhelming. It overshadows even my devotion to Richard. How is
that considered strength?”

     “It will be what you make of it,” Edward
stood up. “You may use it as your life's blood, or you may spend the rest of
your life cowering from it. You are married to that young lady for better or
worse, for the rest of your life. The fact that you have fallen in love with
her is more than anyone could ask for. Do not you realize how fortunate you
are?”

     Christopher eyed Edward a moment before
turning away, his pacing slowing but his body rigid and agitated.

     “Do you truly believe Marcus is in love
with her?” he asked.

     Edward shrugged. “Who can say? But I
believe so. Mayhap the only way you can find out is by asking him.”

     Christopher shook his head vehemently. “If
he were to say yes, then I would most certainly kill him. And I need Marcus,
Edward. He is the best knight in the realm and I need him.”

     “Nay,
you
are the best knight in the
realm,” Edward corrected him. “You and Marcus are so much alike that it is
frightening. Talk to the man, Chris, I implore you. If you do not, this madness
of yours will eat at your soul and destroy you from within.”

     Christopher kept his head bowed, watching
his feet. “I cannot have this conflict, Edward. Not when Richard's throne is at
stake.”

     “Is it?” Edward asked quietly.

     Christopher finally sat down, heavily.
“Marcus said that the barons in the north are very opposed to John, yet some of
the upper nobility support him because they are as deviant as he is. With
Richard gone, the entire country feels as if their king has deserted them and
dissatisfaction grows. It is difficult at this point to say who has the edge in
loyalty, but both Marcus and I feel that one thing is certain - if John makes a
move for the throne, then it will throw the entire country into civil war.”

     “What of Richard’s betrothed?” Edward
asked. “Mayhap if she were to assume her rightful place….”

     Christopher waved him off. “She is a child,
Edward. And she is not yet the queen. Nay, unfortunately, John is gaining power
and Ralph along with him. Do you know that he bestowed upon John the title of
Sheriff of Nottingham?”

     “I heard rumor,” Edward said distastefully.
“Richard has a marshal, now John must have a sheriff.”

     Christopher sat forward, his elbows resting
on his knees and his great blue eyes staring off into the darkness.

     “How do I allow myself to become involved
in these things?” he muttered. “Such a simple matter as taking a wife has grown
into my greatest concern when, in fact, my greatest concern should be for my
king. Sometimes I think I should board a merchant vessel and sail off into the
world, and leave all of this mess behind.”

     “And leave Dustin here?” Edward asked
softly.

     Christopher paused a moment before shaking
his head. “Nay,” he whispered. “I would take her with me and pray that someday
she overcomes this hatred she bears. Mayhap someday she would consider me a
fine husband.”

     “She doesn't hate you, and she is deeply
proud of you,” Edward told him, rising to his feet. “Go to her, Chris, and
surmount your pride. 'Tis the only way.”

     Christopher nodded faintly. “Mayhap.”

     Edward stretched the weariness out of his
lanky body. “If you are finished with your emotional crisis, let us return to
the dining hall and show John that Richard's presence is indeed heavy at
Windsor.”

     Leave it to Edward to put things into
perspective. Without an argument, Christopher rose, silently, his mind on his
wife as he followed Edward to the great hall of Windsor. He was, in truth, glad
for Edward’s presence. The man always had the ability to calm him, to help him
to see reason. Christopher was frankly concerned how he was going to react when
he saw Marcus and was glad for Edward’s presence. At least the man would
provide a buffer between him and Marcus should the situation grow ugly.

     Unfortunately, Marcus was the first man he
saw upon entering the hall.  Oblivious to Christopher’s thoughts, he went right
to him.

     “Is Lady Dustin all right?” Marcus asked
with concern.

     Edward glanced at Christopher, but his
liege was expressionless. “She is in bed,” he replied.

     “Good,” Marcus issued a sigh of relief.
“When I forewarned you about Ralph and John's plans, I neglected to tell your
wife. I hope the shock was not too great.”

    
The man is digging his own grave,
Edward thought. Discreetly, he left the two men standing near the door, alone,
but didn’t go far. He wanted to be close in case the conversation deteriorated.

     Seeing Edward move away from the corner of
his eye, Christopher was much calmer than he thought possible. He crossed his
arms, his gaze lingering over the crowd that was now up and dancing to
minstrels.

     “Considering Ralph spoke the truth, her
shock wasn't so great more than she is simply distraught,” he said, his eyes
then falling on his knight. “She told me what happened at the inn, Marcus. More
than anything, she is deeply concerned for you. It would seem that she does not
want me to kill you.”

     Marcus met his gaze for an eternal moment,
frozen in time, no feelings nor reaction forthcoming.  He wasn’t really
surprised that Dustin had confessed.  In fact, he felt rather relieved by it.
Oddly relieved.