Rise of the Defender (9 page)

     His jaw ticked as he wiped away the bloody
trickle from his lips. His anger was apparent.

     “Your mother was ill, my lady. I did not
kill her,” his voice was like ice. “As to Lioncross, she is indeed mine. As are
you, in name and in body, whether or not it meets with you approval.”

     “It does not,” she spat.

     “Nor does it meet with mine,” he retorted. “I
simply wanted the keep. You are additional baggage.”

     Stung, she glared up at him, her tears
forgotten for the moment. He braced himself for the next barrage as he gazed
impassively into the stormy gray eyes.

     “For God’s sake, de Lohr, if you didn’t
want me, then why didn’t you tell the king? Or my father?” her tone was
suddenly pleading. “Why could not you have simply purchased the keep and leave
me out of it?”

     “Because your father wanted to see you
married,” he said flatly. “It would seem that mayhap he didn’t think you could
catch a husband on your own, being as old as you are, so I was offered the keep
for the price of marrying you.”

     She was breathing rapidly but her tears
were gone. She lowered her gaze, she understood his words only too well.

     “Let me go, then, and you can have
Lioncross,” she whispered.

     “Let you go where?” he asked, puzzled.

     “My mother’s family lives in Nottingham,”
she replied. “I would go live with them.”

     “You are my wife, my lady,” he said firmly.
“You will stay with me.”

     “Stop calling me your wife,” she flared,
then just as quickly relaxed. Her face was painful. “I would not move to annul
the marriage, if that is your concern. I would remain your wife and you could
keep Lioncross.”

     He studied her face, his anger abating. “Why
do you want to leave so badly?”

     She looked at him, then. “Why would you keep
me when you plainly do not want me? At least in Nottingham I could find some measure
of peace.”

     “I never said I did not want you,” he
corrected her.

     “You said I was baggage and that our marriage
did not meet with you approval,” she pointed out.

     He cocked an eyebrow; he
had
said
that, hadn’t he? “But I never said I did not want you,” he repeated. “You,
however, have hated me from the beginning, that much is clear. Do you find me
so horrible that you would flee your life-long home in order to escape me?”

     She thought on that a moment. “I love
Lioncross, my lord,” she said softly. “But I will not stay where I am not
wanted. Lioncross may be my home, but it is your keep now. It is out of
Barringdon hands.”

     “You are no longer a Barringdon,”
Christopher said. “As of late yestereve, you became a de Lohr. Aye, you belong
here.”

     He saw her face ripple at the mention of
her new name and realized that David had been right, she hated it.

     “Please allow me to go to Nottingham,” she
whispered pleadingly. “I would be happy there.”

     “And you would not be happy here if you
remained?” he asked, not really wanting her to go but not wanting her to be
miserable if she stayed.

     After several long moments she shook her
head negatively, her only answer. He could see the tears starting anew as she
turned away from him.

     Christopher sighed. He found increasingly
that he did not want her to go, but he would not order her to remain. It would
be better to have no wife at all than a miserable one making his life hell.

     “Very well,” he replied. “You may depart as
soon as you are ready. My men will escort you.”

     “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered,
standing over the freshly turned earth of Mary’s grave.

     With a final, and perhaps sad, glance, he
turned and left her in the dimness of the chapel.

***

     Christopher did not see his wife the rest
of the morning. He knew she had come out of the chapel, according to his
sentries, but she did not appear for the nooning meal and he checked with the
kitchen to see if she had requested her meal sent to her rooms. She had not,
and he grew irritated. He had no time for all of this foolishness; he had a
keep to run.

     Forcing himself to forget about the woman
he had been forced to marry, he delved into assessing his keep and deciding where
to begin the renovations. He knew Dustin’s dowry was extensive, even though he
had yet to know the exact figures, but combined with his own wealth, he knew it
to be enough to make Lioncross the jewel of the Marches.

     Edward assisted him with his observations. The
man had a head for money and building, and was a great help to him. As he
talked, Edward listened and offered educated opinions, finally helping him
narrow down his priorities.

     The sun overhead was warm and but the air
was cool toward mid-afternoon. The bailey was virtually void of any activity as
the servants stayed within the confines of Lioncross, and the sentries up on
the wall were pacing their rounds. At one point, Christopher caught sight of
Jeffrey pacing the walls and the two men eyed each other like two cocks.

     “What is it about that man that riles you
so?” Edward asked, somewhat amused.

     Christopher shook his head and turned back
to then business. “I do not know. I do not trust him.”

     “Why? He has done nothing,” Edward said.

     Christopher shrugged, reading the parchment
in front of him that he had been writing on. Edward grinned.

     “I have been talking to some of Barringdon’s
men,” he mentioned. “They like him and seem to think he is a strong soldier.
They also say he has eyes for your wife.”

     Christopher looked at Edward and then back
up to Jeffrey on the ramparts. “Dustin?” he scratched his neck and re-focused
on the vellum. “Why am I not surprised? Then mayhap it is a good thing that she
is going away.”

     Edward s mirth faded. “Are you really going
to let her go?”

     “She wishes it and I will grant her,” he
replied, making another notation.

     Edward watched his friend, seeing that the
man did not wish to discuss the subject. But Edward was naturally curious and
wondered why Christopher could so easily dismiss such a lovely woman. He was
shallow, true, but he also knew he was capable of deep feeling.

     “When will you dismiss Jeffrey?” Edward
asked after a moment.

     “Today,” Christopher replied.

     “And when is Dustin leaving for Nottingham?”
his friend asked, peering up at a broken corner on the side of the keep.

     “I do not know,” Christopher answered. “Whenever
she is ready. Mayhap in the next few days. I will want you to ride escort, of
course.”

     “Of course,” Edward agreed dryly. “Who else
to protect the Lion Claw’s wife? “Incidentally, when Jeffrey is dismissed from
your command, what is to say he will not show up in Nottingham and serve your
wife and her mother’s family?”

     Christopher stopped what he was doing and
looked at him. “He had better not if he values his life.”

     Edward cocked an eyebrow. “He does not fear
you; that is evident. And what better way to seek revenge for his dismissal
than to seek out your wife and serve her while you are in London?”

     Christopher threw down his quill. “Enough
of this, Edward. What are you driving at?”

     “Nothing, my lord,” Edward turned back to
the parchment, confident his point was well taken. Now that Christopher had
doubts about his wife going to Nottingham, hopefully he would conclude that the
only logical thing was to keep her at Lioncross or take her with him to London.
Of course it was none of Edward’s business what Christopher did with Dustin,
but somehow, he thought she might need her husband. After all, she had just
lost her mother and her father, and Christopher was the closest living relative
she had. He just didn’t think they should be apart.

     Christopher watched his friend’s dark head,
glancing up at the big man on the wall. He didn’t know why the thought of
Jeffrey near his wife bothered him so, but it did.  Confused and irritated, he
turned back to his task, silently cursing Edward for getting him worked up over
nothing.

     Not an hour later, he heard sentries
shouting and immediately mounted the ladder to the wall, jogging in the
direction the men were indicating. When he reached the northwest corner of the
wall, a worried soldier met him.

     “Riders, my lord,” he breathed.

     Christopher peered in the direction the man
was pointing, straining his eyes against the sun. It was a moment before he
could make out the little group of riders crossing the distant field, heading
toward them. Being that they were on the Welsh Marches, he was alerted.

     “Welsh?” he turned to the sentry.

     The man nodded. “We get raiding parties on
occasion, my lord,” he replied. “Just rebels, in faith, but we still must keep
them from the village. They like to steal goods and women.”

     “Christ,” Christopher muttered, turning to
Edward over his shoulder. “Assemble fifty men and find my brother and the other
knights. We ride.”

     The bailey turned into a hive of activity
as soldiers donned their protective gear and the knights began assembling.
Christopher dashed to his quarters, quickly acquiring his armor, and then
hustled back down to the bailey to find that his steed had already been saddled
and was waiting for him.

     Leeton, David, Max and Anthony, and Edward
were quickly getting the men assembled and moving. Christopher shoved his
helmet on and mounted his dancing destrier, glancing in Leeton’s direction.

     “So it seems that you and I are to ride to
service together once again?” he remarked.

     Leeton nodded. “I have decided to stay here
awhile, if it pleases you,” he said. “I always did enjoy a good fight with you
guarding my rear. Max and Anthony are ready to swear fealty to you as well, as
they are bachelor knights. Any objections?”

     Underneath his faceplate, Christopher
smiled. He was more than pleased. “I will have the best knight stable in all of
England,” he answered. “Even Richard shall be jealous.”

     Leeton was preparing to reply when a shout
from atop the wall interrupted him.

     “Do you know where your wife is, my lord?”
Jeffrey called.

     Christopher looked up at the man. “You
must, or you would not be asking me,” he replied loudly, coolly. “Where is she?”

     Jeffrey didn’t answer for a moment. “In the
village,” he said. “She left two hours ago and has yet to return. What kind of
husband are you that you do not keep track of your wife? You had better get to
her before the Welsh do.”

     “Bastard,” Leeton muttered.

     Christopher didn’t reply. He spurred his
horse through the gate, yelling orders to the sergeant in charge to close the
gates after the brigade had passed through. As he tore into the village, he was
suddenly aware of a curious pounding of his heart. Be it at the excitement or
because he was concerned for his wife’s safety, he could not be sure. But he
knew he had to find her. The thought of Dustin in Welsh hands drove him crazed
with anger. 

***

     Dustin had indeed left Lioncross in the
early afternoon to do a bit of shopping in the village. She had been toying
with the idea of a few new dresses, purely for appearance sake, but firmly
decided that she should now that she would be traveling to Nottingham. All of
her dresses were simple peasant clothes, with the exception of the blue surcoat
she had worn yesterday. Even her wedding dress had been borrowed from her
mother, but it had been far too small in the bustline.

     But before she did any haggling with the
merchants, she went to Rebecca’s small hut near the edge of town. Rebecca s
mother was a midwife and her father farmed a small plot of land, which he sold vegetables
from. It had been the first time she had seen Rebecca since yesterday, and the
young woman’s mouth fell open at everything that had transpired in that brief
span of time. She was driven to tears by the enormity of it all, yet controlled
herself for Dustin’s sake. Her friend looked as if she had taken all she could.

     Rebecca was glad to go shopping with
Dustin, just the thing to get their minds from then troubles. Though Rebecca
had little money, she did have an eye for taste and quality and in no time had
three fine bolts of material selected from a nearby merchant.

     “Now, just who will sew these dresses,
Dustin?” Rebecca asked pointedly as they carried their burden from the shop.

     Dustin grinned. “You, of course.”

     Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I knew it. And
what do I get out of it?”

     “I shall pay you, Rebecca, have no fear,”
Dustin replied. “But you will have to have them finished by tomorrow, for that’s
when I plan to leave.”