Rise of the Defender (7 page)

     Christopher could sympathize with him,
marrying a girl he had no interest in, but he was jolted from his thoughts by
the appearance of the priest. The man politely requested the knights to gather
about Christopher, indicating the Lady Dustin and Lady Mary were approaching. Fighting
down a resurgence of reluctance, Christopher glanced up and caught a glimpse of
the two women on the balcony above the great hall as they made their way to the
staircase.

     He didn’t get a good look at Dustin until
she descended the stairs and entered the room, holding her mother’s arm. Then,
he found he could not take his eyes off her. She was dressed in a creamy yellow
silk surcoat, well off her beautiful shoulders and embroidered in gold thread.
It was a bit snug, perhaps too snug, and revealed her figure plainly.

     Christopher had never gawked at a woman in
his life and tore himself away from her lest he make this the first time. But
he realized one thing - David had been right. She did have magnificent breasts.
In fact, there wasn’t one thing about the woman that wasn’t magnificent and he
was stunned, suddenly feeling self-conscious of his less-than-kempt appearance.
He found himself regretting he had not bathed.

     “I do apologize for our tardiness,” Mary
said softly. “Are we ready to begin?”

     “Aye,” Christopher stepped forward, gazing
impassively at Dustin before looking at the priest. “You may begin, Father.”

     Throughout the quick ceremony, Dustin held
onto her mother. The action irritated Christopher and glared in the direction
of the women only to realize that Lady Mary did not look at all well. Instead
of Dustin grasping her mother for support, it was the other way around.

     But they had to let go of each other when
Christopher moved to place a pretty gold band on Dustin’s finger. Dustin gazed
down at it, puzzled that he had actually taken the trouble to purchase one. She
turned her sweet face up to him questioningly.

     “I picked it up in London,” he told her
emotionlessly. “’Twas a bargain.”

     Her face washed with a stony expression and
she lowered her head. The one thing that might have brought a small amount of pleasantness
to an otherwise distressing event was of no worth, either. Dustin didn't know
why she had hoped he might have taken some care in choosing a ring, mayhap it
was the romantic inside her. After all, weren’t weddings supposed to be a happy
occasion? Dustin felt as though she might as well be attending a funeral mass…
her own.

     The priest gave the final blessing and
benediction, and Christopher paid him well. Mary kissed her daughter’s cheek and,
still clutching her arm, moved to Christopher.

     “Welcome to Lioncross, my lord,” she said. “I
pray that you and Dustin will have as much happiness here as Arthur and I did.”

     Christopher was preparing a harsh retort but
he simply could not bring himself to reply to the gentle woman in such a manner.
She looked very tired, even more so than earlier in the day, and he attributed
it to the fact that the woman had just only learned of her husband’s death.

     “Thank you, my lady,” he said simply.

     Lady Mary smiled then turned to her
daughter. “Come now, dear. We must help the men with their meal.”

     Dustin gave Christopher a baleful glare
before following her mother into the kitchens. The knights settled themselves
around the huge oaken table and Christopher found himself running his hand
along the surface.
His
table. He glanced up, looking at the open-beamed
ceiling thirty feet above him.  His keep. All of it was his. He sighed with
satisfaction. His happiness would have been complete had one very large stipulation
not come with all of this wealth.

     As if she heard his thoughts, Dustin came
whisking back into the hall bearing a huge trencher filled to overflowing for
her new husband. She set it down heavily before him, slopping over a bit onto
the table, and went to retrieve him a goblet of wine.

     Her movements were sharp and angry and he
found himself watching her with some amusement. When she moved close to him to
pour the wine, he smelled roses. He found the scent heady and was undecided as
to whether or not it was pleasant.

     “Are you to serve me always?” he asked.

     She didn’t look at him. “My mother said I
should tonight as a show of respect for my new husband.”

     He nodded, studying her more closely than
he ever had. David had told him, Leeton had told him, and Edward had told him.
They all knew it, as did he. She was indeed beautiful and he was still amazed
at his luck.

     “I wish for you to serve me at every meal,”
he said, turning his attention to his food.

     “I am not a serving wench,” she said
stiffly.

     “Nay, you are not, you are my wife and I wish
for you to serve me at every meal,” he repeated calmly, picking up a bit of
stringy beef.

     Dustin stood back, watching him eat with
gusto. Her jaw ticked with outrage at his order. She was not a serving wench
and how dare he lower her to that station. But her fury was cut short when she
saw her mother, her weak arms shaking, attempting to serve David. The trencher
was about to end up in the knight’s lap. Discreetly taking the food from her mother,
she served her husband's brother herself.

     “Thank you, Lady de Lohr,” he smiled
sweetly at her.

     Dustin blinked at the sound of her new
title, managing a brief nod before retreating with her mother for the rest of
the meals.

     David grinned into his food when she had
gone. “She hates that name.”

     “What name?” Christopher asked.

     “Lady de Lohr,” his brother snickered.

     Christopher took a big bite of beef. “That
is her misfortune.”

     The meal was long. Dustin and her mother
sat at the end of the table in silence, listening to the strange laughter and
conversation.  Dustin never looked at her new husband, but she was certainly
becoming accustomed to his voice. It was deep and rich, and his laugh was
throaty. It could become quite easy to like his voice, for it was masculine and
comforting. But she would not allow herself to like any part of him.

     She was beginning to recognize the knight’s
voices as well. David’s was higher pitched and gentle, Edward’s was loud and
exciting. She also learned their names by listening to them address one
another, for her husband had not even had the courtesy to introduce them to
her. She finished her meal quietly, not having eaten more than a few bites. She
didn’t even notice her mother had not eaten at all.

     The meal concluded very late and Dustin was
exhausted. While the serving women cleared the table of trenchers and clutter,
Dustin rose.

     “My lord,” she forced herself to look at
Christopher. “I would ask permission to retire.”

     Christopher’s gaze passed between his wife
and her mother. He was about to demand Dustin stay and entertain them, but he
suspected Lady Mary needed his wife more. He gave a brief nod.

     “Good sleep to you, wife,” he said, then nodded
at Lady Mary. “My lady.”

     Mary was even paler that she had been
earlier. “The steward will show you and your knights to your rooms,” she said
softly. “I hope the chambers are to your liking.”

     “I am sure they will be,” Christopher replied.

     Without another glance, Dustin took her
mother by the arm and led her to the stairs. The woman’s movements were slow
and labored and she seemed to be having some difficulty mounting the steps. The
knights watched silently for a moment as Dustin tried to physically lift her
mother onto the first stair. Christopher, too, watched until he saw what Dustin
was trying to do and then rose swiftly.

     “My lady, would you allow me to assist you?”
he asked Lady Mary.

     “My mother is quite capable of climbing stairs,
my lord,” Dustin retorted quietly.

     He ignored his wife and looked at the older
woman. “My lady?”

     Mary sighed and cleared her throat very
lady-like. “Mayhap I could use a bit of assistance, thank you.”

     She held out her frail arm to him but he
ignored it instead, sweeping her into his arms and mounting the stairs with
absolutely no effort at all. In fact, Dustin was still standing at the bottom
of the flight gazing up at him with astonishment as he set the older woman down
at the top. Recovering, Dustin dashed up the stairs and grasped her mother
again.

     “Did he hurt you?” she demanded.

     “Of course not, dear,” her mother replied.

     Christopher watched his wife help her
mother down the corridor until both women disappeared into a room. Lady Mary
was obviously ill and he realized he felt some concern for her. Turning on his
heel, descended the stairs in a rush of irritation, disturbed that with this
new keep came protective feelings for the occupants. Lady Mary had been nothing
less than kind and respectful to him, and he appreciated that. Her daughter
could learn lessons in manners from her mother.

     He joined his knights, drinking and
laughing and reveling deep into the night, pushing thoughts of the Lady Dustin
de Lohr to the back of his mind.

***

     Dustin was awakened from a deep sleep by a
hysterical serving woman. She was irritated and groggy until the woman
mentioned one word –
mother
.

     Dustin bolted up from her bed, clad only in
a flowing linen bedcoat, and charged across the corridor into her mother’s
room. Panic flooded her veins and she heard herself whimpering even as she ran
into the room, nearly slipping on the old rushes on the floor. Devastation and
horror consumed her to see several female servants hovering over her mother’s
bed, crying. She knew without even looking that her mother was dead.

     Dustin pushed forward, shoving the women
out of the way. One look at her mother’s pale, wax-like face and her worst
nightmare was confirmed. Lady Mary Barringdon was indeed dead.

     Her sweet, gentle mother. The woman who had
nurtured her through sickness, had tried to teach her to be a dutiful wife and
chatelaine, and who tried to impart wisdom into her thick skull. Horrible,
agonizing sobs rose in her throat and she threw herself down on her mother’s
cooling corpse, begging her not to leave her. She didn’t want to be alone.

     Christopher heard the screaming and flew
from the great hall and onto the second floor before the hollering had even
stopped. He could hear the other knights behind him, swords unsheathing. He
knew instinctively that it was his wife he heard, and his sword flashed wickedly
in the firelight as he thundered into the chamber crowded with weeping servants.

     It did not take an intellect to see what
had happened; it took him all of two seconds to deduce the scene. Lady Mary had
died in her sleep, and Dustin was inconsolable.

     Christopher slowly sheathed his sword,
taking hesitant steps into the room. The servants stood about, sobbing like
fools. They certainly weren't doing his wife any good.

     “All of you - get out.” he snapped in a low
voice, motioning with his arm. “
Now
.”

     Weeping and wailing, the servants quickly
cleared the room with rough assistance from David and Edward. When the dim chamber
was finally cleared, Christopher stepped to the end of the bed and absorbed the
scene.

     Dustin was sobbing incoherently, mumbling
something into her mother’s chest that he could not understand. Christopher
watched her blond head, feeling a good deal of pity for her. To be married and
lose her mother all in the same day had pushed her over the emotional edge and
he found himself wanting to comfort her. But he would not, just as she would
now allow him to.

     Christopher motioned David and the others
out, moving for the door himself. With a final glance, he quit the room and closed
the door quietly, leaving his wife to deal with her grief alone. But even as
the others retreated back to the great hall, he remained behind, standing watch
outside Lady Mary’s door in case Dustin needed him. He didn’t want her to have
to go searching.

     But Dustin didn’t come out and, after an
hour, Christopher went back into the room to make sure she hadn’t done
something horrible to herself in her moment of grief.

     The room was nearly pitch black except for
the small fire in the hearth. He moved silently for the bed, noticing that
Dustin had not moved a muscle. Instead of open sobs, as she had been doing
earlier, she was sort of moaning pathetically. Her hands were clutching her
mother’s bedcoat as if she were to hold on tight enough, she could prevent her
mother from slipping into the world beyond.

     He realized she was stricken with grief,
but she would become ill if he allowed this wallowing to continue. He cleared his
throat quietly.

     “My lady,” he whispered. When he received
no reaction, he spoke her name. “Dustin.”

     She stirred a bit and her eyes flew open. Slowly,
she turned her head until her pale gray eyes found him and focused. He gazed back
at her, unaware of his gentle expression.