“Why aren’t you at Derby?” Christopher demanded, taking Leeton’s outstretched hand and shaking it.
Leeton shrugged. “I still am, on occasion, but no longer as captain.”
Christopher grew serious. Leeton was by far one of the best knights he had ever seen and he was puzzled as well as concerned.
“Why not?” he asked.
Leeton’s face grew sad, soft, as he released Christopher’s hand. “Do you remember the earl’s daughter, Rachel?”
Christopher nodded. “Of course, Leeton I knew her well.”
“I married her,” Leeton replied quietly, but Christopher could read the tremendous grief in his friend’s eyes. “Two years ago. Last year, she bore me a son. She died three hours later.”
Christopher was stunned. Aye, he had known the fair Rachel, and he knew Leeton had always been sweet on her. For them to marry was not a surprise, but he was deeply saddened by Rachel’s death. He could see that Leeton was still having trouble coming to terms with it.
“Please accept my condolences,” he said softly. “But your son was healthy?”
“Aye, Richard is magnificent,” Leeton nodded. “He lives with the earl and his wife. I, however, cannot bear to stay at the keep because it was where I met my wife and where she died. So I have spent a great deal of time in Worcester, and in Nottingham, on errands for the earl. I see Richard when I can.”
Christopher sighed heavily, feeling the man’s anguish. “If I had a son, I would not let him out of my sight,” he murmured. “How can you be apart from him?”
Leeton cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. “He is the image of Rachel, Chris,” he said softly. “Every time I look at him, I see her, and my grief is fresh.”
Christopher understood. With silent sympathy, he clapped his friend on the shoulder and the two of them turned back to the others, now engaged in lively conversation with Edward and David.
“Chris, what’s this I hear that you are to be married?” Max asked loudly.
Christopher nodded coolly. “Unfortunately, in order to gain this magnificent keep, I have to marry the heiress,” he said. “I have only met her today, and today we will be married. You will all attend the ceremony, of course.”
“You are getting married?” Leeton was shocked. “Jesus, Chris, what a hell of a surprise. How on earth did this happen?”
Christopher didn’t want to go into that at the moment. He gave Leeton a wry smirk. “By decree of our illustrious Richard,” he said, rather grandiose. “He commands and I obey.”
Leeton could see the reluctance and the humor, and it was difficult not to tease Christopher because of it.
“Your devotion to our king is indeed limitless,” he said dryly. “So what does this woman look like? Twisted and old? Medusa in the flesh?”
Before Christopher could answer, David’s gaze suddenly moved to the keep and he found himself following his brother’s focus. On a second floor window overlooking the bailey, a small figure in blue silk and flowing blond hair stood watching the knights. When Dustin noticed she had been sighted, she abruptly disappeared back into the castle.
“That,” Christopher said, “is her.”
None of the knights said a word, looking up at the window as if she were still standing there. The de Velt twins’ mouths were hanging open. All jesting faded as the shock of the lady’s appearance settled.
“That is Medusa in the flesh?” Leeton asked in disbelief. “God, Chris, you failed to mention she was absolutely beautiful. I feel like an arse.”
Christopher shrugged noncommittally. “The fact that she is easy on the eyes will only make the marriage a bit more palatable,” he said. “But I have come to see that she is exceedingly stubborn and disrespectful.”
“Who cares? The two traits can be changed,” Leeton insisted. “You cannot do a thing about her looks, but her manners can be molded. She can make you a fine wife.”
Christopher shrugged carelessly again, his only answer. The conversation turned back to the king, the prince, and the crusade, and Christopher whole-heartedly joined in. But in the back of his mind, the small woman with the incredible hair kept appearing and try as he might, he could not shake her.
CHAPTER THREE
Jeffrey returned with the priest four hours later, Christopher was sure, just to spite him. The big German barely acknowledged him and when he did, it was usually curt and bordering on rude. David and Edward were furious about it but Christopher waved them off. The man was as good as gone, anyway, and he banished him from the castle and from the wedding in a show of complete control, daring the surly bastard to challenge him. Jeffrey retreated without a word, but Christopher didn’t trust the man.
It was well after dark when Christopher and the other knights assembled in the great hall of Lioncross. It was a cavernous place with vaulted ceilings and an enormous fireplace with a great lion’s head carved into it. The servants had put fresh rushes on the floor and two banks of expensive tallow candles burned brightly. Lady Mary had even insisted that precious frankincense be burned in honor of her daughter’s wedding, the pungent scent mingling with the heavy smell of smoke.
Christopher stood in his armor, having not even bothered to bathe or shave. This ceremony was simply a formality and meant nothing to him other than the fact that Lioncross Abbey would legally be his. He was eager to count the wealth in the coffers and get started on improving the structure. He stood, waiting impatiently, for his bride and her mother to appear.
David stood beside him, but Edward and the other knights were hitting the fine French wine pretty hard, beginning to get rather loud and boisterous. Edward was a lively sort and could drink with the best of them, and Christopher enjoyed the man greatly.
Christopher watched him gulping from his goblet, laughing with Leeton. He and Edward had fought with Richard for three years and he had come to think of the man as his second brother. He was tall and dashingly handsome with his dark hair and golden eyes, and he could fight with the best of them. His father, Robert, was the Earl of Wolverhampton and Edward would inherit the title upon the man’s death.
Robert de Wolfe was still in the Holy Land with Richard. He and Edward had gone together to fight with Richard, but Edward left with Christopher. Robert and another knight by the name of Royce Culbertson had become the very best of friends, with Royce having been with Richard since the beginning of the crusade and marrying a Saracen woman the very first year. Royce had sent his wife and baby daughter home to England the very next year, and the child was now three years old. Much to Edward’s horror, Robert and Royce had drawn up a marriage contract between their two children, and Edward had come home to visit his betrothed, who was exactly twenty-four years younger than him. Edward had protested the ridiculous match but his father insisted.
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 that 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 w
e 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 he 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 meal.
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 ladylike. “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. D
evastation 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 great 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 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 not allow him to.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 5