Christopher waited impatiently for the man to speak until he could stand it no longer. “Well?” he demanded.
The prisoner wiped his face dry, letting out a heavy sigh. “ ’Tis true what you have said, my lord, all of it,” he said quietly. “Sir Ralph sent us here to spy on you.”
“What were his orders?” Christopher asked calmly.
“To find out what we could and report back to him,” he answered.
Christopher studied the man a moment. “But you tried to kill me.”
“Aye, we did, but it was Roy’s idea,” the prisoner replied. “Sir Ralph never ordered us to kill you.”
As Christopher interrogated the prisoner, a small access door at the far end of the room quietly opened, avoiding detection. A small silhouette stood still as stone, listening to the voices echo in the bowels of the old abbey. But Christopher didn’t notice; he was too focused on gaining information.
He remained emotionless, standing with his legs braced firmly apart and his arms crossed. “Then what did you find out about me?”
The prisoner faltered a bit, eyeing Christopher. “Nothing much at all, my lord,” he replied. “It seems no one around here knows you very well. Not even your whore would tell us anything.”
Christopher showed a flash of puzzlement. “Whore? What whore?”
“The redhead,” came the quiet reply.
Christopher was horrified. He snapped, grabbing the man by the hair and pulling him up off the seat, slamming him heavily against the wall. “You killed her?”
The captive screamed and twisted. “I didn’t, Roy did!” he gasped. “He said she was your whore and we should kill her to keep her quiet.”
Christopher’s face reddened and he released the man, stepping back a moment to regain his composure. He was mad enough to kill but in a flash of reason, he knew if he killed the man, he might not know all of it. Gratification would have to wait.
“Bastards,” he hissed as he turned away. “You goddamn bastards.”
David, his handsome face tensed, stepped in because his brother seemed close to snapping.
“Who raped her?” he demanded. “And who killed her mother?”
The prisoner was scared, rubbing at his scalp where Christopher had yanked the hair right out of his head. “I killed her mother because I had to. Roy took care of the whore.”
“What do you mean you had to?” David demanded.
Christopher turned around and the man met his eyes, fear glazing his face. “Because she interrupted us as we were trying to get information from the whore,” he muttered. “She was going to run and tell, so I had to kill her.”
Christopher glared at the man. “If you call her a whore one more time, I will cut your throat,” he growled. “Now, answer his question. Who in the hell raped her?”
The captive wrapped the blanket about him tightly, cringing from the big knight. “Roy did,” he said fearfully. “She said she was untouched, but he took her anyway. Even when she screamed… I think he violated her in many ways. He took his dirk and did… things to her.”
Christopher’s nostrils flared a spilt-second, disgusted and sickened by the admission. He would take the information with him to his grave. Dustin would never, ever know the details. Almost beyond rage, he shook his head slowly.
“You stupid bastard,” he muttered. “She wasn’t a whore, she was a friend of my wife’s. Whatever possessed you to commit such a heinous crime against her?”
“We saw you leaving her house, my lord, alone,” he answered. “We thought she was your mistress.”
Christopher could see right through the fool’s simple train of thought. “And you thought to gain knowledge of me.” He shook his head at the irony, the stupidity, of it. “Tell me, then; have you sent any messages back to Sir Ralph?”
The fat man shook his head. “Nay, my lord. We have been here only a day or so.”
Christopher nodded at the answer, mulling over what he was going to do with the man now. He felt a good deal of both relief and sorrow at having caught Rebecca’s killer and he knew that, somehow and some way, there had to be justice served. Rebecca deserved that much and for her, for Dustin, he would make sure of it.
“What is your name?” he asked after a moment.
“Virgil,” the prisoner replied without hesitation.
As Christopher drilled the man for any more useful information he could come up with, the collection of knights had yet to notice the shadow far down the narrow hall. The shadow had disappeared after the confession of Rebecca’s murder and was now back, moving like a wraith, silently and swiftly, and suddenly it was in their midst. Yelling at the top of her lungs and wielding a heavy pick axe she had retrieved inside the keep, Dustin nearly clipped David as she swung the battle-axe with all her might straight at Virgil’s head.
No one had a chance to react as the steel sang through the air and caught the prisoner half in the neck and half in the head, burying the blade deep. In a splash of blood and gore, the cubicle walls surrounding the man were colored crimson as his head slammed dully against the stone.
“You bloody bastard!” Dustin shrieked. “Consider that revenge for Rebecca!”
Christopher grabbed her tightly about the body but she struggled madly against him. The prisoner, dead, was a gory sight with a pick axe buried in his face. Dustin continued to rant and fight even as Christopher hauled her up in his arms, taking her back the way she had come. It was a chaotic and heartbreaking scene.
David and the other knights, stunned at the ferocity of Lady de Lohr, watched Christopher walk away with his screaming burden. They exchanged apprehensive and shocked glances before returning their focus to the dead prisoner.
“He got what he deserved,” Max muttered.
Edward put a foot on the prisoner’s fat chest and pulled the battle axe free, spurting more blood as the man fell to the floor in a spreading pool of the stuff.
“Gentle knights,” Edward said softly as he tossed the axe to the ground. “I do believe we have seen a classic case of justice served.
David scratched his neck underneath his itching mail. “Damn, remind me never to rile her,” he muttered. “Did you see the way she wielded that axe?”
“Did you see the power in her swing?” Anthony countered. “Put some armor on her and let her go into battle with us. She would do as well as any man.”
David sighed, feeling his fatigue and wanting to be free of his wet and uncomfortable clothing. There was nothing more they could do for the prisoner. It was over.
“Let us move him out of here,” he motioned to the de Velt twins. “We will burn the body when the weather clears.”
*
By the time they hit the grand hall, Dustin was reduced to sobbing heavily in Christopher’s arms. He held her tightly, whispering soothingly to her as he carried her up the last flight of stairs and into his chamber.
Once inside, he closed the door and tried to put her down, but she wouldn’t let go of him. Awkwardly, he sat down on the edge of the bed in his bulky armor and held her, stroking her hair gently.
“Dustin, Dustin,” he sighed, sing-song. “What do you do, lady?”
“I heard what he said,” she sputtered. “I heard him say he killed Rebecca.”
“I gathered,” his voice was soft and comforting. “Why were you eavesdropping on us?”
Her head lay on his shoulder. “I wasn’t, at first,” she wept. “I watched you in the bailey and then when I saw you take him to the abbey, I followed because I was curious. Father never kept prisoners and I was just watching when I heard him. He said… oh, God, he said terrible things.”
She wept heavily. Christopher took one arm from her and tried to peel back his hauberk, but it was difficult until she sat up and allowed him to remove it with both hands. By that time, her crying had lessened and she stood up, looking completely forlorn and exhausted. Now that he had the opportunity, he rose and removed the rest of his mail and wet things. Dustin stood silently, watching h
im with an occasional hiccup.
“Your breeches are wet,” she hiccupped.
Silently, he undid the stays and removed his breeches. Dustin, meanwhile, had turned away from him and went over to the basin to wash her hands.
“His blood is on me” he heard her whisper but he didn’t like the tone. By the time he reached her, she was rubbing harshly at the blood stains that were slow to come off and he grabbed both of her hands, stilling them.
“Come with me,” he whispered into her hair, pulling her stiff body across the room and practically falling onto the bed with her.
She mumbled something, weakly struggling with him, but he ignored her and pulled the thick coverlet snuggly around them both. In his massive arms, she began to calm and he felt her shaking lessen and lessen. Outside his windows, the storm raged and pounded, but inside, in his bed, they were safe and warm.
Christopher lost track of time as they lay together, neither one speaking, yet neither one sleeping. Dustin didn’t move a muscle as he stroked her back gently.
“I have never killed anyone before,” she finally murmured.
He nodded faintly. “You used the axe with great skill.”
“ ’Twas my father’s,” she replied. “He didn’t like it. He thought it was a messy tool.”
“Not if used correctly.” Christopher wasn’t sure they should be speaking of this, but better to do it than to allow her to stew. “I am sorry you had to hear those things. I was going to spare you the details.”
“I wish I hadn’t heard,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his shoulder. “But I did. I killed him, and I am not sorry.”
“It is right for you to seek justice for your friend,” he replied after a pause. “I do not fault you.”
She suddenly raised her head, looking at him with her red-rimmed eyes. “Are you angry at me for interfering? I told you, I hadn’t meant to, but when I heard him….”
He shook his head. “Nay, sweetheart, I am not angry,” he said. “If there would be any justice to the man’s execution, then it is right that you should dispense it for what he did to your friend.” His eyes suddenly twinkled at her, crinkling at the corners. “You are ferocious, aren’t you? I have never seen a woman with such bravery.”
She lay her head back down, snuggling comfortably against his skin. The whole evening, day, and week was overwhelming her, and Christopher made her feel safe and warm as no one else ever had. Somehow she knew he would always be there for her, to protect and tease her. It was maddening and confusing and wonderful to feel the way she did about him. For someone who never wanted to be married, she was growing to like it a great deal. With warm and comforting thoughts, she drifted off.
Christopher felt her go limp and knew she was asleep. As exhausted as she was, he was glad but at the same time he was sorry. He had so wanted to play with her this eve, touch her, and warm her to him. She seemed to forget about everything when he touched her, and he wanted her to forget what she had done for the moment. He wanted to make her his in every sense of the word, and holding her up against his nude body was quickly escalating into torture.
Eventually, he fell into a light sleep. Dreams of Dustin filled his fatigued mind, images he could not quite grasp yet at the same time he could feel strong emotions of fear and anger. Eventually these images calmed and he began to dream of Dustin in a better light, her golden hair spread over him, her mouth on his stomach in his dream his hands grasped her buttocks, yet he could not quite feel her. It was almost as if she were made of liquid, he knew he was touching it, yet he could not grab hold.
Yet she was doing maddening things to him and he was in heaven, frustrated that he could not touch her. His hands left her buttocks slowly, moving up her arms and entangling themselves in cobwebs of golden hair until they reached her breasts. Suddenly, she felt firm in his palms and he began to caress her eagerly.
Christopher awoke suddenly when Dustin whimpered, and he was aware of his right hand on her breast, fondling her gently while his left arm held her fast to him. As one does when awakened from a vivid dream, he took no time to consider his actions and began to remove her laced girdle with great urgency. Dustin, still half-asleep, whimpered again and he tore at the top of her dress, baring her to the waist.
He was so eager that he found he was shaking as his hand reverently grasped her bare breast, observing the deep rosy nipple and delighting in the softness of her. His caresses, gentle at first, increased in intensity until Dustin gasped, entwining her fingers in his thick, blond hair.
His hot mouth descended on her sweet nipple, sucking her mightily and she cried out softly in response, now fully awake. He heard her call his name faintly, her hands in his hair and he was losing his control with all of it.
He tore himself away from her sweet flesh long enough to pull her dress completely off, rendering her quite nude underneath him.
They both froze for a moment, staring at each other in the dim light of the distant hearth. He gazed down at her, her perfect body posed delightfully, his knees between her calves. He was pleased that she was seemingly unashamed to look upon him this time.
“Your body is sculpted like a Greek statue I saw once when I visited Bath with my father,” she murmured, her lids half closed. “How is it that you are as perfect as marble?”
He smiled, running his hands up both of her thighs, lowering himself gently on her. “And how is it that your body is the most perfect God has seen fit to form?”
He kissed her tenderly after that, every inch of her skin. He covered her arms, her legs, her stomach with kisses, driving her mad with a desire she had never known before. She needed him, somehow, though too naive to know exactly how. When he once again moved his great hands to her core, covered with dark-gold curls, she tensed beneath him and he looked up at her.
“Do not be afraid, Dustin,” he whispered. “I shall be gentle, I promise.”
He had told her that once before and they never went any further, due to David’s interruption. She was so caught up in his touch now that if David had walked through the door at the moment, she would have taken his head off. She found she wanted Christopher desperately, all of her preconceived notions be damned.
She relaxed and lay her head back down on the pillow and he continued, stroking the exterior of her center before parting the thick lips and running his tongue gently within the pink folds of tissue.
Dustin could feel her apprehension rise but forced herself to calm, her mind whirling at the sensations he was creating. But his mouth did not torture her overlong for he knew she was very new to this. He came up on her slowly, kissing her stomach, the dip in her abdomen below her sternum, and under her breasts as his huge hands began to caress and stroke her.
He found a nipple once more, knowing how she responded to him, and fondled her more firmly as he suckled. It took virtually no time before she was slick and wet, her moisture running down onto the linens and he knew she was ready for him.
He parted her legs wide, his heart pounding in his chest with the desire and excitement he was feeling. Dustin opened her eyes and he lay atop her, supporting his weight with an arm and holding her tightly with the other. Below, she could feel his big organ throbbing at her threshold, pushing against her.
His eyes met hers, their gaze locking as he pushed into her very slowly, acutely aware of her tightness and small body. He was not more than an inch into her when he shuddered with utter ecstasy. Dustin, feeling as if she were being stuffed full, tightened with apprehension and he stopped.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he kissed her cheek, her temple. “It will make it easier.”
She didn’t reply but he felt her arms tighten about him trustingly and that pleased him immensely.
He played a bit of a game with her, yet one that would help ease her. He would pull out completely, then push back into her slowly, going deeper and deeper each time, loosening her muscles. Her maiden’s barrier was apparent and the next time he withdrew, he plunged back into her harder
than he ever had, breaking the tissue and driving himself to the very hilt.
Because he had taken the time to relax her, the sting of losing her innocence was just that – a sting. Although it did not completely subside, it was not as frightening or unpleasant as Dustin had imagined it would be. Instead, she felt an overwhelming sense of comfort and pleasure with his closeness and not a hint of embarrassment. Of all of the things she knew she would feel, she had been completely wrong.
Christopher stopped, buried within her, and pushed himself up to look at her face. Her expression was soft and he smiled in surprise.
“Did I hurt you?” he rasped.
“A little,” she admitted, her legs wrapping around his thighs of their own accord. “Is this all there is to it?”
He raised an eyebrow slowly, completely astonished at her reaction. He had expected screams, fighting, at the very least.
“Nay, lady,” he whispered, dipping to kiss her nose. “We have only just begun.”
He began to move in her then, slowly to allow her to adjust, but escalating quickly to ram-hard thrusts that rattled her teeth. Yet her nubile, innocent body responded to him with such intensity that she had no other choice but to go with it. Initially she had been puzzled with her wanton reaction to something she had never experienced before, but she rapidly gave in with the rest of her until she was riding with him, faster and faster, her nails biting into his broad back, feeling heat building in her loins but having no idea how to satisfy it.
Then, it happened; her body stiffened and her loins contracted with a sweetness that brought stars before her eyes and then she was falling, falling back down to earth and landing gently in a feather bed. Tremors rolled through her body, signaling rapture. The tremors faded but the rapture, the glow, remained.
But he was still moving within her, his breathing coming in hard grunts when finally she heard him give a low groan and his movement lessened and lessened and then eventually stopped. Dazed, Dustin lay clutched in his arms, her legs still wrapped around him, wondering why she had been so terrified of coupling. Her mother had clouded her mind with her own ideals, and Dustin thought for the first time in her life how wrong her mother had been.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 23