The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Nay,” Christopher repeated firmly.

  “Yes,” Dustin countered, pulling away from Marcus’ iron grip. She shoved David aside and moved away from the knights before anyone could grab her. Angrily, she faced off against her husband. “I do not understand your rudeness. What he has asked of me is a great honor, and I should like to do it.”

  John grinned broadly. “Ah, a woman who stands up for herself. I like it.”

  Christopher’s jaw ticked angrily. In fact, he was angrier than he had ever been in his entire life.

  “Dustin,” he said as evenly as he could. “You will not do this, and you will come with me now without another word.”

  Something in his tone scared her. Puzzled and angered, she did as she was told and once again found herself in Marcus’ grasp. He led her from the room, with David and Christopher backing out of the room still facing the prince until the door slammed shut.

  Christopher took his wife from Marcus while David and Edward dispersed the soldiers. With her firmly by the arm, he dragged her the entire way back to their rooms. Dustin, sensing she had done something very, very wrong, didn’t utter a word of protest.

  When they finally reached their luxurious apartments, Christopher flung her into the antechamber and slammed the door furiously behind him. Dustin, having had time to build substantial fear of his wrath, scooted to the other end of the room. A safe distance, she assumed.

  Christopher was shaking with fury and, aye, fright. He took a few moments to breathe and calm himself before dealing with his fully disobedient and highly willful wife.

  “Dustin,” he began in a controlled tone.

  “What?” she jumped at the sound of his voice. Then she began to speak rapidly. “Christopher, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to contradict you but the prince had been very kind to me and he seemed to know a bit about my father, and I have never been to London before and awarding prizes in the tournament is such a wonderful honor, and I have never….”

  His brow furrowed and he cut her off. “Why are you jabbering like a fool?”

  She looked frightened and he saw her swallow hard. “Because I am trying to explain myself before you spank me. Mayhap you won’t spank me quite so hard if you understand my excitement.”

  He calmed considerably to see that she was truly remorseful. It furthermore occurred to him that she knew nothing of what was going on here in London, except for a few tidbits he had fed her.

  Of course she saw a charming prince; John could be that if he wanted to. As inculpable as she was, she fell under his spell, and when he asked her to present prizes at the tourney, she was understandably flattered. John was very right in his description of his wife, and for that he could not fault the man, but Dustin did not understand the greater implications of doing John a “favor.”

  He visibly relaxed. “I am not going to spank you,” he said. “But you have made me angry.”

  “I am sorry,” she repeated, not knowing what else to say.

  He took a good look at her in her burnished gold surcoat; she looked absolutely ravishing. To think of John and Ralph drooling all over her drove him white with anger all over again, but he banked it. He hadn’t seen his wife in three days and he didn’t want to spoil their first meeting even more than circumstances already had.

  He unlatched his armor and removed his mail gloves and hauberk, leaving them in a pile by the door. Then he removed his heavy leather vest and tossed it across a cherry wood table, leaving him clad in only a damp linen shirt, breeches and boots. He proceeded to wander over to a silk and oak chair, sitting heavily in it.

  Dustin watched him closely. He seemed preoccupied and she wondered if it was because he could not decide how to properly punish her.

  “Come here,” his voice was soft again.

  She obeyed and he drew her down onto his lap, his eyes drinking in her beauty for a long moment before speaking.

  “Dustin, I know you do not understand politics or intrigue, but unfortunately, sweetheart, you are right in the middle of it,” he said. “I told you that I had enemies, with one of them being John because of the title Richard bestowed upon me. Understand me when I tell you that he will do anything, anything at all, to destroy me. And he will use you if he can.”

  She looked shocked and angered. “I would not help him destroy you.”

  “Knowingly, no. But John is a clever man, and he would use someone of your innocence to his advantage,” he said, caressing her arm gently as he spoke. “He knows I will do anything to keep you safe and protected, and he’s right. I’d give my own life to keep you from harm, Dustin.”

  She gazed back at him, at his sky blue eyes, and her hand came up to caress his bearded cheek.

  “He was very kind to me,” she said simply.

  “He would be, for he has everything to gain by obtaining your trust,” he replied. “Listen to me well, you must never again go near the prince. Do not speak or even look at him, or Ralph either. They are on this earth for one reason and one reason only, to destroy all that is Richard’s and to obtain England for themselves. As Richard’s champion, they must kill me if they are to accomplish this.”

  The thought of Christopher dead scared the hell out of her. He saw her eyes go wide and she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly.

  “You cannot die,” she whispered tightly. “They cannot kill you, Christopher, they simply cannot.”

  He held her close. “They won’t, sweet. They are not smart enough.”

  She pulled back and looked at him, and he was surprised to see tears in her gray eyes. “If you die, I shall be all alone. My father and mother are dead, and Rebecca is gone. But you…I would not want to live if you were dead.”

  He was touched by the passion in her statement, her apparent devotion to him. He remembered what she had said to him the morning he left her at the inn, and he believed her now. It scared him to death.

  “I will not leave you,” was all he could say, and pulled her to him once again as he tried to compose himself. He could not think straight with her looking at him as she was. “I shall never leave you, Dustin. I vow it.”

  She held on to him for a few long moments before wiping at her eyes. He brushed her hair back with his trencher-sized hands, smiling at her until she smiled back.

  “No more cough?” he asked lightly.

  She shook her head. “Nay, I am healed,” she replied. “Marcus was worse than any nursemaid. Twice he sat on my legs to keep me from getting out of bed.”

  Christopher laughed softly. “Good man. I knew you could not get around him.”

  Her smile faded as she remembered her encounter with Marcus. But she pushed the thought away, ignoring it, focusing on her husband.

  “You did not say goodbye to me,” she commented, moving the subject away from Marcus. “Why not?”

  Confusion crossed his features. “I did, Dustin. Don’t you remember?”

  She shook her head. “You did not. I would have remembered, but you left me without a thought. I am angry with you for that.”

  It occurred to him that if she didn’t remember him bidding her farewell then she didn’t remember what she had said to him before he left. He realized he was deeply disappointed.

  “I did, I assure you, so your anger has no basis,” he said.

  She eyed him dubiously but relented, obviously not too terribly angry with him. Arms still around his neck, she cuddled up against him happily. “What will we see first in London? I want to go see the Tower, and Westminster Abbey, and the Thames, and….”

  “One thing at a time,” he cut in, though he was smiling. “There will be very little time for seeing the sights, but I have decided that there is one trip we will most definitely make.”

  “And what is that?” she asked.

  “To the Street of the Jewelers,” he said, noticing her puzzled look. “When I married you, I neglected to give you a bridal gift. I would make amends now.”

  “But…but you gave me a ring,” she gla
nced down at her pretty little band. “I remember you told me it was a bargain.”

  He let out an embarrassed sigh. “Well, yes, I did,” he said. He had told her it was a bargain so she wouldn’t think he had gone to any trouble for her. He was sorry for his statement now. “Nevertheless, I want to select something pretty for you.”

  She shrugged carelessly. “My mother had coffers of jewels. I do not care much for flashy jewelry.”

  “I know that,” he replied, “although you are the one woman in this world who would justify such an extravagance. I want to select a gift that you will wear, always. Something you will be proud to wear. Something that will remind you of me.”

  She cocked her head. “We could have a jeweler smelt a gold mask of your face and I could wear it on a chain so everyone would know who I was married to.”

  He laughed. “Everyone already knows who you are married to. That was established following the first few moments of your arrival.”

  She watched him for a moment, his handsome face creased with mirth. “Chris?”

  “What, sweet?”

  She looked at him hesitantly for a moment. “If I…if I were to purchase a wedding ring for you, would you wear it?”

  His smile faded and his expression turned amazingly tender. “Aye, Dustin, if you were to buy me a ring, I should be proud to wear it.”

  “You would?” she was astonished.

  “I said I would,” he answered.

  She grinned. “Then when we go to the Street of the Jewelers, I shall buy you a ring just like mine, only much bigger.”

  “Not too big. I want to be able to lift my hand without assistance,” he quipped.

  She giggled, very pleased that he would wear a token of their union. They continued to sit together a few moments in silence, happy to be together again. Christopher had a great many things to attend to but was reluctant to leave Dustin, considering the boldness of the prince. He quickly decided the best way to protect her was to keep her with him, even in improper situations like drilling the troops or practicing on the field. He knew she wouldn’t mind, and he would feel much better knowing she was only an arm’s length away. ’Twould be much harder for Ralph or John to contact her if he were only a stone’s throw distance.

  “How would you like to go with me about my duties?” he asked.

  Dustin’s face lit up, as he knew it would. “Can I? Oh, yes, I would like that.”

  “Good,” he smiled and stood, letting her fall gently to her feet. “Gather your cloak, my love, for it promises to be brisk.”

  She smiled happily and moved quickly to the mirror to straighten her hair as he cursed himself silently. There he went calling her “my love” again. He would have to stop himself from calling her that before it became a nasty habit.

  He moved swiftly to his armor in the corner, donning most of it before Dustin helped him with the mail hood and gloves. But before he could put his helmet on, she jumped up and latched onto his neck, kissing him hard on the lips.

  “Thank you, husband,” she whispered happily.

  He grinned back at her. “For what?”

  She shrugged and let go of him, securing her cloak. “For taking me with you, for protecting me. For everything.”

  “You may thank me as you did anytime,” he winked at her, putting his helmet on.

  Taking her hand in his huge mailed fist, he led her from the room.

  *

  Even though it was late in the afternoon, Windsor was alive with people. Christopher took her to the tournament arena where his men were and she was awed at the sight of the stands and the colorful banners that were going up all around. There were hundreds of servants and craftsmen seeing to every detail of the arena and surrounding vendor booths.

  “Where is your banner?” she asked her husband.

  Christopher pointed to a massive banner in the shape of a three-point shield, a rich blue with a golden lion set into it. The lion was rearing on its hind legs, a sword clutched in its claw and a laurel wreath on its head. It was a truly magnificent banner and easily outshone the others.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said sincerely.

  Christopher pointed to a banner a couple of flags down. “That is the de Lohr banner, for Lohrham Forest.” It was a green and yellow banner with a hunting bird on it.

  Dustin studied it. “Why are there two different banners for you?”

  “Nay, sweetheart, my banner is the blue and gold,” he told her. “It stands for my title and Lioncross Abbey. The other one is for my uncle and our family name.”

  “Are there going to be knights from Lohrham Forest competing?” she asked.

  “There are only three knights at Lohrham, and yes, they are going to be here,” he said. “They will compete for my uncle’s honor. I will compete for mine.”

  He took her around the arena where several men were practicing jousting with straw-stuffed dummies. Dustin was so involved with watching them that she nearly tripped twice.

  Christopher held her hand tightly, amused at her fascination. He had been around knights and tournaments for so long that it was refreshing to see it through the eyes of one who had never seen the spectacle before.

  In a clearing next to the arena, Christopher’s knights were practicing hand-to-hand fighting with several other knights. The two of them stood on the perimeter for several minutes, watching Marcus plow through several knights and not even raise a sweat. He stopped when he caught sight of Christopher and Dustin and smiled brightly.

  “An audience,” he said loudly, removing his helmet as he approached them. “Just what I like to have.”

  “Marcus, you are a wonderful fighter,” Dustin gushed. “Those men didn’t have a chance.”

  Marcus glanced at Christopher. “Obviously you have not seen your husband in the ring, my lady. The gods are envious of his talent.”

  Dustin grinned, catching sight of David and Leeton. She called out to them and David motioned her over, and she went to him as eager as a child.

  “What is she doing here?” Marcus murmured casually to Christopher.

  Christopher’s eyes were on his wife as he replied. “I felt it safer to keep her with me at all times,” he replied quietly. “After what happened, I will not let her out of my sight. Besides, this is all new to her and she loves it. She will be no trouble.”

  Marcus nodded in agreement. “I must confess I had no idea what we would find in John’s apartments,” he muttered, fussing with his gauntlet. “With the prince hung like a bull, he has torn many a young woman asunder and I half expected Dustin to fall prey.”

  Christopher shook his head. “You do not know my wife very well,” he said. “She may be innocent, but she packs a punch. She would fight him with her dying breath.”

  Dustin turned around and called out to them, motioning them to join her. Christopher started to comply but Marcus backed off.

  “I have got more rounds, Chris,” he said, replacing his helmet.

  “Then we shall see you in my apartment before supper,” Christopher replied. “I should like us all to attend the meal together in a show of unity.”

  “Agreed,” Marcus nodded. “That will throw the fear of God into John. With the Lion’s Claw and Richard’s premier general in the room, he ought to be throwing fits on the rushes before the night is out.”

  Christopher grinned as the two went their separate ways.

  Dustin spent the rest of the fading daylight watching her husband and his men work over the other knights on the combat field. Someone had brought her a chair and she sat on the edge of it, her eyes riveted to the fighting before her.

  It was clear early on that Marcus had been right.

  Christopher was easily the best soldier there. She has seen him fight before, but briefly. Here in this setting, he was constant and omnipotent, dropping men easily. Her heart swelled with excitement and pride when she thought of him winning the tournament tomorrow.

  He joined her after an hour or so of knocking over weake
r men. When he removed his helmet, she promptly stood up and kissed him loudly on the cheek.

  “What was that for?” he asked.

  “For being brilliant and strong,” she said giddily. “And Marcus. I must congratulate him, too, for being almost as good.”

  “Do not kiss him,” Christopher said in a low voice, shaking out his helmet. “A simple handshake will do.”

  She gazed at him for a moment, her joviality fading. It was becoming increasingly apparent that Christopher must never know what happened between her and Marcus. As protective and possessive as he was, there was no telling how he would react, and Marcus’ life might be in serious jeopardy. Mayhap her life, too.

  Trying to gage him, mayhap trying to anticipate his reaction, she pressed forward in her usual manner.

  “No handshake,” she teased. “I will give Marcus a big, wet kiss right on the lips.”

  He simply shook his head, removing his gauntlets and shaking the perspiration out of them. Not receiving an immediate answer, she turned her attention back to the field.

  “Your kiss to Marcus would be the kiss of death.” He said it so casually that she almost didn’t catch his words. “I would run him through and take delight in it…Marcus!”

  She jumped when he yelled to his knight, feeling sick inside. Even as Marcus jogged over and the two of them engaged in a tactical conversation, she still felt dulled and nauseated. She decided to never again bring up the subject and to pretend that it never, ever happened. Mayhap if she pretended long enough she would come to believe it.

  Dustin looked up at the two men as they spoke, each distinctly handsome. But she found it was Christopher who drew her gaze, who warmed her heart. She thought of the tournament, and of him winning. If he were to win and she were not awarding prizes, then it would mean that another woman would have the honor of publicly touching her husband. With that thought, she flared.

  “Christopher?” she called to him.

  He and Marcus turned to look at her. She fixed her husband with a miffed gaze.

  “You are going to win the tournament, are you not?” she demanded.