Rise of the Defender (87 page)

     Marcus' absence cast a dark shadow over
Christopher and his knights, for they all felt as if a piece of the puzzle was
missing. Although no one knew for sure why Marcus had deserted them without a
word, they suspected it had something to do with Dustin. No one voiced their
opinions, not even to themselves, but they were all of the same belief. There
was no animosity towards her, for there was nothing to be bitter about since
Marcus' decision was his own, but each man wished that Marcus would come to his
senses and forget about the woman. 

     Dustin, of course, had put him completely
out of her mind.  He didn’t exist to her as far as she was concerned and she
was happy he was gone. Her focus, love, and attention was solely on her
husband, fearful if she didn’t keep him completely in her thoughts and mind,
her guilt would consume her. Although she hadn’t knowingly responded to Marcus,
still, that night of passion those weeks ago had her wracked with turmoil.  
She loved her husband with all that she was and Marcus had been persistent in
threatening to destroy that.  She hoped she never saw the man again.

     'Twas the beginning of February, bleak and
cold. Dustin had seen very little of her husband for the past several days. She
and Deborah would busy themselves as much as possible and they were even
allowed a good deal of freedom to roam the castle now that John was vacated,
but still, Dustin missed Christopher terribly. Yet she had grown a little in
her time at Windsor, and she knew something was in the air without her husband
even telling her. She'd never seen a battle, nor even been near one, but she
knew that Christopher was preparing the crown troops for a big clash with the prince.

     True, she'd heard all of the rumors there
were to hear. It would seem that every gossip at Windsor always ran to her with
the latest to discover if she could confirm or deny anything, which she never
could because Christopher rarely told her anything. In spite of the fact that
her husband was closed-lipped about his affairs, she had learned a great deal
about what was transpiring. It never seemed to be the right time to question
him about anything when he returned to her at the end of the day because they
saw each other so infrequently that she did not want to waste her time with him
on rumors and gossip.

     This particularly icy night he returned to
their apartments unusually fatigued. His face was chapped and red from the
weather and his brow seemed to be permanently furrowed. Dustin, dressed in a
luscious robe of pale yellow silk, tried to make sure his meal was perfect, but
even that didn't seem to snap him out of his mood. He ate silently, only
speaking to insist she sit on his lap the entire meal.

     His moods were growing darker and darker
these days, just like the weather. Dustin played with his hair as he ate, her
eyes raking over him appreciatively. She found herself living her day around
him, his face always on her mind, the taste of him on her lips. She fully
realized that the fiercely independent Lady Dustin Barringdon had become the
highly dependent Lady de Lohr, but she didn't care. She lived for him, and only
for him.

     “I want to show you something,” she
suddenly bound off his lap, hoping to cheer him up. “Watch Hal.”

     Obediently, the medium-sized dog came
trotting out of the bedchamber. Harold had become quite attached to Christopher
and he, strangely, found himself attached to the stocky mutt with the big jaw.
The animal was also inordinately strong and protective, and he was verily
pleased to have it protecting his wife. No one could get within a few feet of
Dustin without Hal barring his huge teeth.

     “Now, watch,” Dustin snatched George from
where he was enjoying a piece of fruit on top of a small table and set the
monkey on Harold's back. With a nudge, Harold trotted off with George clutching
the dog's neck, looking like a miniature horse and rider. Dustin giggled
gleefully as Harold rounded the room with George perched stiffly on his back.

     Christopher wiped his hands on a cloth and
smiled wearily at the trick. “I shall have a saddle made for him at once,” he
said. “George looks positively terrified on his bare back.”

     Harold stopped in front of Christopher and
wagged his tail, accepting with relish the tidbit Christopher tossed to him.
Then, with George still clinging to his back, he trotted off into the
bedchamber once more.

     “Is that what you have been doing with your
time? Saddle-breaking my dog?” he asked.

     Dustin always thought it funny when he
referred to Harold as 'my’ dog. For a man who wanted nothing to do with the
pups, he had changed his mind fast enough when he discovered the animals could
be beneficial.

     “What else am I to do? I have been bored
out of my mind with you gone all of the time,” she sauntered back over to him,
curling up on his massive lap. “I have missed you terribly, husband.”

     He wound his arms around her torso. “I
know, and I have missed you, too. But I have been very busy.”

     “And very secretive,” she said, instantly
sorry she had. She hadn't meant to sound as if she were prying. “I am sorry, I
didn't mean that.”

     “I have not been secretive a-purpose,” he
said. “'Tis just that I have been extremely busy and when I see you, I do not
want to talk about the trivia of the day. I want to talk about you, about us.
What did you do today?”

     Dustin shrugged. “Nothing much. Deborah and
I went for a walk about the grounds, but that was all,” she suddenly perked up.
“I nearly forgot. I saw the Earl of Fenwark today across the courtyard. Do you
suppose Lady Gabrielle is with him?”

     He gave her a reproving look. “I thought we
agreed about Lady Gabrielle, Dustin.”

     She pursed her lips. “I know, I know, but
with the prince gone from Windsor, I thought well, I'd hoped….”

     He shook his head. “Sorry, sweet, 'tis no
good. Remember what happened to Lady Gabrielle the last time you two met.”

     She swallowed, indeed remembering the
woman's bruises. Then, she shrugged again. “I did like her, Chris. She was a
nice lady.”

     He kissed her cheek soundly and stood up,
depositing her on the floor gently. “I know, but you have Deborah now to keep
you company. You'd better forget about Lady Gabrielle altogether.”

     He removed the last of his leg armor and
stretched with exhaustion. His heavy linen shirt landed on the floor for the
maids to wash and Dustin found her want for him rising as she watched him strip
off his clothes. It had been over six weeks since her accident and, true to his
word, he had not touched her. But she could stand it no longer; tonight, all of
that would change.

     She followed him into the bedchamber,
closing the door softly behind them. Harold and Alex were curled up in front of
the hearth, sleeping, as he passed by them and to the large basin. As he washed
himself, his glorious back to her, Dustin let the robe fall to the floor and,
nude, slipped under the coverlets. She had been planning this evening all day,
having taken a leisurely bath and washed her hair earlier. Clean and smelling
like a bed of roses, she hoped it was enough to entice him out of his fatigue.
The longer she waited, the more she began to tremble with anticipation.

     He came over to the bed, drying his face
with a linen towel. “Why are you in bed already? I thought we might play a game
of Fox and Hounds.”

     She raised a slow, provocative eyebrow at
him and suddenly threw back the covers, revealing her luscious body to him in
the soft light. “I thought we might play a different game.”

     He froze, staring at her beautiful shape.
“It has been seven weeks, hasn't it? Christ, I'd lost count after the first two
for it seemed like an endless eternity.” The towel went sailing and his
breeches were already half-off; it was miraculous how his fatigue suddenly
disappeared. “Are you sure, sweetheart? Are you up to this?”

     She reached up and pulled him down even as
he struggled to free his feet from his breeches. “More than up to it, husband.
I want you to make love to me all night.”

     The breeches were off and his lips were on
hers, his exhaustion vanished at the warm softness of her flesh. She moaned in
response as his huge hands latched onto her breasts, giggling against his
fervent lips and he smiled as he kissed her eagerly.

     Truth was, with everything on his mind, he
had nearly forgotten about the sweetest thing a man could taste; his very own
wife. He thought he had banked his urges quite well until he saw her nude form
in front of him; then, it was as if he had no control whatsoever.

     He was trying to be gentle, to pace himself
but, Christ, he wanted her so badly he found himself being rough. Yet Dustin
didn't complain; in fact, she encouraged him and even yanked his hair cruelly
as he suckled a nipple, causing him to raise his head up and she descended
urgently on his lips with her own strong drive. The rougher he became, the more
she liked it.

     Suddenly she rolled him over on his back,
her hot little lips blazing a scorching trail all over his broad chest, peaking
his nipples with her tongue and grunting with pleasure the whole while. He
groaned with his own satisfaction as she moved down his abdomen before closing
on his engorged organ with relish. Yet he could stand no more than a second or
two of her ministrations; winding his fingers in her wild hair, he pulled on
her hard enough to bring a scream to her lips.

     He was fearful that he had been too rough,
but his fear turned to overwhelming lust and desire when he saw her gazing up
at him with a grin to seduce God himself. He'd never known his wife to enjoy
brutality in their lovemaking but, Christ, he was loving it, too.

     Dustin was on her back before she realized
it, whispering words of encouragement as he fell atop her and positioned his
great shaft at her threshold. He was trying to be gentle, but she simply would
not allow lt. He knew it was likely to pain her a great deal when he entered
her, but her legs were wrapping themselves around his thighs and he could feel
how slippery she was, throwing him over the edge into oblivion. As Dustin told
him in no uncertain terms what she wanted him to do to her, Christopher coiled
his rock-hard buttocks and drove into his wife like a great battering ram.

     Dustin cried out with the thrill of
pleasure-pain, her nails digging crescent-shaped wounds into the flesh of his
arse. He was unstoppable, thrusting into her hard enough to rattle her teeth,
feeling her tightness enclosed over him, so pleasurable it was painful.

     She rose to meet his every thrust, crying
out his name and begging him to move harder, swifter, hotter. He was absolutely
mad with his wife, filling every corner of his mind until nothing else in the
world existed but her. His plunges became more forceful, his hands squeezing
her breasts, the sweat of his body mingling with hers until he finally climaxed
in a great searing blast of convulsions. He heard her soft screaming pants and
he knew she had achieved her own pleasure, their pulsing muscles interacting
with each other, responding one to the other. The warm glow that was descending
on them was almost visible.

     He held her tightly, not withdrawing,
overwhelmed with the passion between them. Never had he made love to a woman
with such blind desire and force, and he found he was actually astonished with
the drive they shared. The seven weeks had been well worth the wait to have it
peak in such a glorious fashion.

     “Dustin de Lohr,” he growled into her ear.
“You are a reckless, wanton wench.”

     She pulled her head up, smiling through her
tousled hair. “You make me that way, husband. I have been dreaming of your
magnificent body for seven long weeks.”

     “I know, you told me six weeks ago,” he
teased her. “Was this more wonderful than your dream?”

     Dustin was suddenly struck with the
remembrance of Marcus. Lord, she'd almost forgotten and inadvertently
Christopher caused all of the pain and guilt and confusion to flood over her again.
But she was strong and fought it for all she was worth. She threw her arms
around his neck tightly, hoping if she held on firmly enough, that Marcus'
memory could not disturb her.

     “More wonderful than anything in this
world,” she whispered fervently. “Promise me it will always be like this,
Chris.”

     “If I have anything to say about it, it
will,” he kissed her cheek. “You are choking me, sweet.”

     She loosened her grip but didn't let him
go, laying her head back to look him in the eye. His gaze was loving and warm,
drinking in her face just as she was devouring his.

     “You are going away, aren't you?” she
whispered after a moment.

     He blinked at the rapid change of subject.
“Where did you hear that?”

     “Do not be evasive with me. I have heard
the rumors, I know John has a large army and is preparing to strike King
Richard's holdings, holdings which you will have to defend.” She ran her
fingers through his hair. “When are you leaving?”

     She could see his expression become
unguarded. “Dustin….”

     “Please tell me,” she begged. “I am not a
silly, simpering female who will fall into swoons like a weakling. Just be
honest with me, Chris,
please
. I want to know when I will be losing you
so I can prepare myself.”