The de Lohr Dynasty

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Dustin had never experienced such complete, utter satisfaction as the army crested a small hill and Lioncross came into view. Her home, Christopher’s home, loomed in the distance and tears of relief sprang to her eyes. Surely heaven was not as gracious and welcoming.

  Christopher viewed Lioncross with a great deal of relief and joy as well. A smile creased his lips as his gaze devoured his lands, his keep. He had returned once more and he swore silently that, barring any great catastrophe on Richard’s part, he would never leave Lioncross again. He was home to stay.

  Dustin rode in front of Christopher, clutched against him as she had been the entire journey. He was exceptionally weak, but he refused to let her ride alone. It had been far too long since he had held her and he was determined to make up for lost time. Dustin reveled in his touch, ignoring the jab of the armor and her own aching back. Wherever Christopher was, she was content and comfortable.

  Everyone had accompanied them back to Lioncross, save Richard. With his brother on the run, he was obliged to follow. Pleased beyond words that the situation had righted itself and all was well with his knights, he allowed Marcus and David only a few days’ time to accompany the Defender home and then return to the troops. Christopher had earned the right to recover fully at home and was therefore spared any further service to subdue John. Considering the price the man had paid against the prince, Richard was more than willing to be generous to his Defender.

  Christopher had learned that Richard’s first destination was Tickhill. With sincere earnest, the Defender fulfilled a promise to the man who had saved his life and had pleaded the case of Lord Robin of the Hood to the King of England. On pure faith from his Defender’s words and as a result of the gratitude he felt, Richard promised to fully look into the charges and restore the earldom. Christopher could ask for no more than that.

  Riding in front of her Uncle David, Christin crowed happily and chewed her hands as the army skirted the village en route to the keep. Christopher and Dustin smiled over at the fat, happy cherub.

  “She looks more and more like you daily,” Dustin commented.

  “Yet it would seem that she harbors your characteristics,” Christopher replied, splaying his great hand on her belly. “Mayhap this child will be like me.”

  “Ha!” David scoffed. “That will remain to be seen. You shall probably have a house full of women before this is through, every one of them like your wife.”

  Christopher raised an eyebrow as Dustin chuckled. “Now where have I heard that threat before?”

  “ ’Tis no threat, sire, but a promise,” Dustin snickered. “This child will be a girl.”

  “Christ,” Christopher muttered. “And just what are you planning to name this spawn? Curtis?”

  “Nay.” Dustin insisted with a grin, passing a glance at Gabrielle, seated in front of Marcus. “I was thinking on naming her after a friend.”

  “Friend? What friend?” he asked.

  Dustin sighed with content and snuggled back against him. “Lady Brielle de Lohr has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  “Brielle?” he looked over his shoulder to Gabrielle and Marcus, as well. “Ah, of course.

  “Tis a fine name.”

  The gates of Lioncross yawned open wide to welcome home their lord and lady. Men were shouting and several peasants had turned out to shout their welcome as the large company passed through the gates. Christopher acknowledged the horde, he was so very glad to be home.

  Jeffrey and Max were there to greet them and Christopher was immediately reminded of Anthony’s death at the sight of his brother. Edward rode close to Christopher, reading his thoughts.

  “I shall tell him,” he murmured to Christopher.

  “He died in battle, Edward,” Christopher said softly. “He died with a sword in his hand.”

  Edward nodded. To tell Max that Marcus had killed his brother would surely create another battle, and it was best to omit certain facts to the man in this case. Christopher was tired of battles.

  “What took so long?” Jeffrey greeted, a rare smile on his face. “We thought you went on the bloody quest again.”

  Christopher reined his charger to a halt and carefully lowered Dustin into Jeffrey’s waiting arms. She surprised her father’s former captain by hugging him warmly.

  “Nay, no quest,” Christopher said, dismounting stiffly. His wound was still tender and raw. “No more quest. No more war. No more fighting of any kind anymore.”

  Jeffrey raised an eyebrow as Dustin walked away from him, making a beeline for Deborah on the front steps of the keep. Christopher watched his wife and sister embrace happily and he could hear their chattering from where he was standing. Weary but happy, he turned to supervise the dismantling of his troops when Jeffrey suddenly took hold of his arm.

  “I must speak with you immediately, my lord,” the German said quietly.

  “What is it?” Christopher removed his gauntlets.

  Jeffrey glanced at Dustin briefly. “You have a visitor, my lord,” he said. “He arrived nearly three weeks ago.”

  Christopher looked puzzled. “Who?”

  Jeffrey cleared his throat. “Your son.”

  Christopher stared back at him. “My son?” he repeated slowly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Peter Myles de Vries arrived with his nurse and a male servant from France,” Jeffrey informed him. A missive accompanied him from the Earl of Calais. It would seem that young Peter’s mother, a Lady Amanda, and her husband, had been killed in an accident and the boy was orphaned. The earl felt himself too old to raise the lad and decided the boy would be better off with his father.”

  Christopher was thunderstruck. His son? Here? He closed his agape mouth. “Where is he?”

  “Out back, where your wife kept her rabbits,” Jeffrey replied. “It would seem that the boy has a fondness for rabbits, as well, and has already amassed a collection.”

  Christopher’s eyes trailed across the compound as if he could see his son though stone walls.

  Marcus walked up, removing his helmet. “Where do you want the wagons, Chris?” he asked, oblivious to the look on Christopher’s face. When his friend did not answer, he looked closely at him. “Chris?”

  Christopher jerked his head to Marcus. “My son is here.”

  Marcus had no idea what he was talking about. “Son?”

  Christopher nodded. “My son,” he repeated, murmuring. “Lady Amanda’s son.”

  Marcus looked puzzled a moment longer before realization dawned. “The lad you told me of? He is here?”

  Christopher could only nod his head. Dustin suddenly reemerged from the castle and he seemed to snap out of his shocked state. “Christ, I must tell Dustin.”

  “Too late,” Jeffrey murmured, and they all turned their head to see a young boy crossing the courtyard toward them. It was obvious to anyone who looked at him that he was Christopher’s son; he was an exact miniature copy. Christopher’s breathing stopped as his eyes beheld his son for the first time.

  There was nothing they could do to stop the inevitable. Dustin was closer to the boy than they were and she immediately smiled curiously at the lad. The boy stopped and returned her smile.

  Christ, Christopher thought, he even smiles like me. He should have been apprehensive as hell, but he found he was not. He knew his wife well enough to know she would be rational about this unexpected turn. At least, he hoped so.

  “Hello,” she said. “Who are you?”

  “Peter Myles de Vries, my lady,” he replied with a practiced bow.

  “What are you doing at Lioncross, Peter?” she asked pleasantly. “Are you visiting someone?”

  “Nay, my lady, I am here to meet my father,” he replied. At six years old, he was very mature for his age. “My father is Baron Christopher. Do you know where he is?”

  Dustin’s smile vanished. She stared at the boy a long moment before tearing her gaze away and seeking out her husband. Christopher st
ood with Jeffrey and Marcus, all three men were staring back at her with different degrees of apprehension, yet none more pronounced than Christopher’s.

  Christopher’s son. She looked back at the lad and saw that he was a smaller version of her husband, perfect and handsome and mannerly. She fully realized she should become furious, incensed, shocked at the very least, but she knew in the same breath that she could not muster the emotions. She knew Christopher as well as she knew herself, and she knew he would not be deliberately deceitful or try to hurt her. It just did not matter anymore. They had been through too much together and she simply could not be angry with him.

  The boy was looking up at her with a sweet, innocent expression and she warmed to him; he was indeed her beloved’s son and she would treat him as if he were her very own. She had enough love for a houseful of children; not limited to her own flesh and blood.

  Dustin held her hand out to the boy and her smile reappeared. “Come with me, Peter. I shall introduce you.”

  Christopher watched in stunned silence as his wife led his son directly to him.

  “Christopher, this is Peter Myles de Vries,” she said. “Greet your son.”

  Christopher tore his eyes from his wife and faced his son. “Welcome to Lioncross, Peter.”

  Peter bowed like a gallant little gentleman. “Thank you, my lord. I like it here already.”

  “I am pleased, then,” Christopher answered, recovering his shock. “I am sorry to hear of your mother’s passing.”

  Peter’s handsome little face rippled. “Me, too. But mother always told me that if anything were to happen to her, then I would come and live with you in England. Is it true you are the greatest warrior in Richard’s army?”

  “Without a doubt, lad,” Marcus said over Christopher’s shoulder. “Your father is the greatest knight who has ever lived.”

  Peter’s young face lit up with pride. “My mother said that. I want to be a great knight, too.”

  “You will be,” Dustin said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You are most definitely your father’s son. I can see it already.”

  Peter was nearly bursting with pride. He grinned unabashedly at his father and Christopher smiled faintly, tousling the boy’s hair. “Return to the keep, then, and I shall speak with you after my men are settled.”

  His face as radiant as the sun, Peter turned tail and raced back into the castle. Christopher looked at his wife when the boy had disappeared through the door.

  “Dustin,” he began softly.

  She put her fingers to his lips as Marcus and Jeffrey made themselves scarce. “He’s a beautiful boy, Chris. Have you known about him all along?”

  He shook his head. “His mother informed me only last year,” he replied softly. “I am sorry I never told you. I never thought to see the lad and simply saw no point in it.”

  “Who’s his mother?” Dustin asked.

  “Lady Amanda de Fortlage,” he replied. “Although you were never introduced to her, you did see her last year at one of the parties John gave. She was at the grand ball we attended right after you discovered your pregnancy.”

  “I remember,” Dustin nodded. “When David first met Emilie, Lady Amanda was the dark-haired woman you spoke with.”

  “Aye,” he nodded. “Are you angry?”

  She smiled. “Should I be? I am not, truly. He seems like a very nice young man.”

  He let out a sigh of pure relief, pure disbelief in the realization that his son was here, at Lioncross. “Lady de Lohr, you are a wise, remarkable woman. I cannot tell you how glad I am that I married you.”

  She wound her arms around his waist. “Or were forced to marry me, as it were.”

  He grinned and brushed his lips against hers. “Aye, forced to indeed.”

  They gazed at each other, love and adoration filling the air engulfing them. Never had Christopher been so happy. Never had Dustin been so entirely content.

  “Here, take your daughter.” David walked up to them, holding Christin out to her parents. “She smells fully ripe.”

  Dustin took Christin with a chuckle. “Do not be such a coward, David.”

  “I am not,” he insisted, propping his helmet up on his head. “By the way, who was that young boy? He looked familiar.”

  Christopher looked at his daughter, his wife. “He’s your nephew, David. The result of a liaison between Lady Amanda de Fortlage and myself. Lady Amanda and her husband passed away recently, so the boy has come to live with me.”

  David’s eyes widened. “Jesus Chr… your son? No wonder he looks familiar.”

  Dustin patted Christopher’s cheek in an affectionate gesture. “He is beautiful, just like his father. Now, I really must go and change Christin out of these smelly clothes.”

  Christopher watched his wife walk away, still astonished with the ease in which she had accepted his bastard. No questions, no anger, no tears of humiliation. He was stunned and so very relieved at the same time, but he saw a definite wisdom that had come to his wife since he had been married to her. She was calmer, more accepting, far more in control of herself. He knew he had the extreme situations to thank for her maturity, although he would not have put her through any of them had he had the choice.

  “I am shocked, Chris,” David murmured. “You never told me that Amanda was pregnant.”

  “I did not know until I saw her at Windsor last year,” Christopher said. “I honestly never thought to see the boy, so I told no one, save Marcus.”

  “Marcus knew?” David asked, incensed that his brother had seen fit to tell a friend, but not him.

  Christopher put up a placating hand. “I had no choice but to tell him; however, we shall get into that later. Right now I would see to my wife and daughter, and then become better acquainted with my son.”

  David watched his brother cross the compound, watching as the Defender’s eyes roved his keep, making sure there was nothing out of the ordinary or changed. He shook his head and turned away, life was certainly full of surprises. Now if he could only hope Emilie would be as understanding as Dustin when he explained to her that he had pledged his services to Richard to help his king reclaim his holdings. Wives, like brothers, were confusing creatures.

  Marcus passed David and was good-naturedly surprised to be the recipient of a slug to the arm. He eyed David with a grin, just like old times. David pretended to ignore him as he joined Edward in disassembling the men-at-arms. Picking up a rock, he sailed it at David and struck the man in the back of the helm. David flinched, turned and shook his fist at Marcus menacingly.

  Gabrielle was waiting patiently by Marcus’ destrier, expecting to be shown into the keep by the general. Marcus grabbed her few items from his saddlebags and rounded his horse, his smile pleasant upon her.

  “I would thank you again for the kindness you have shown me, sire,” she said. “I will be forever in your debt.”

  He held out his elbow to her. “Nonsense. You owe me nothing.”

  She flushed a pretty shade of pink as he led her toward the keep. Her eye deliberately avoided him, instead, skimming the castle. “This is a large place. Well kept, too.”

  “Thanks to the baron,” Marcus replied. “You shall like it here.”

  “I know I will,” she replied. “Lady Dustin has been very kind to me.”

  He nodded, his smile fading. “She is a kind person.”

  Gabrielle looked at him, her heart going out to the man who had loved and lost. He was so very handsome, so very strong, and she could feel her own heart breaking. She could never hope to have a man as grand as Marcus Burton, not after what had happened. But even so, she wished him much happiness someday when he had gotten over Lady Dustin.

  “The weather is much more severe here than in the south where you are from,” Marcus said. “Even the summers seem warmer.”

  Gabrielle snorted lady-like. “I doubt it. Summers were most miserable in Penzance.”

  Marcus grinned, leading her up the steps. “Summers at Somerh
ill are very pleasant. You shall have to visit sometime.”

  Gabrielle’s heart leapt into her throat, fighting back the wishing and hoping that was flooding her soul. “I would like that, sire,” she replied evenly, although she felt as if she could gush like a fool.

  He paused at the top of the steps and faced her, studying the fine-boned lines of her face. “Call me Marcus, if you will. Might I call you Gabrielle?”

  Gabrielle thought she was going to faint with sheer happiness. “I would consider it an honor, si….Marcus.”

  He grinned at her and she smiled back. Together, they entered the great keep that was Lioncross.

  Griselda had met Christopher at the top of the stairs. The old woman had stayed on after the birth of Deborah’s son because of the difficulties the child had and had never left. Even now, Deborah was expecting again and Griselda had no shortage of patients. Christopher could see that the old woman was greatly concerned.

  “Welcome home, my lord,” she bowed quickly.

  He eyed her. “What’s wrong?”

  Griselda came straight to the point. “Your wife, sire. After her long trip, she must rest and she is refusing to listen to me.”

  Christopher shrugged, his fatigue catching up with him. “She seems healthy enough to me, but I will see that she rests well for the rest of the day.”

  Griselda held up a finger. “Not just this day, sire, but until the child is born. We do not want a repeat of what happened with your daughter.”

  Christopher’s brows came together. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that the child was early,” Griselda said. “We must make sure that this child she carries is not early.”

  Christopher froze. “Christin was early?”

  “Aye, she was,” Griselda repeated patiently. “You yourself mentioned that fact, even though I did not believe it, but you were nonetheless right. We must make sure this child comes full term.”

  It took him a moment to realize he had stopped breathing. Slowly, he resumed his intake of air but there was no mistaking the shock of emotions that were filling him. The old woman had just made his life complete and she did not even know it.