He cocked his head, unsure of her tone or her question. “I would hope to.”
“But you are the best soldier in the realm. You fight all of these men as if they are children, so I would venture to say that you are going to win the tournament,” she said firmly.
He cleared his throat modestly. “There are two categories, my lady, the joust and field combat. To win both would be a task.”
She stood up, rigid with the jealousy she was feeling. “But you are the very best; therefore, you will win.” He cocked his eyebrow at her and she continued almost angrily. “If you win and I am not allowed to bestow the prize to the winner, then that will mean that another woman will have the pleasure of kissing you and rewarding you publicly. You will not allow me kiss Marcus to congratulate him for a fine fight, yet you would allow another woman to kiss you in front of the entire court.”
Both men were taken aback by the ferocity of her statement, yet Christopher had to agree she had a certain amount of logic. Silly, but logical. Before he could answer her, she jumped at him again.
“Think on it this way, husband,” she raised her chin. “If I am to bestow prizes, then what better incentive for you to win? You would not want me favoring another, would you?”
Marcus snorted. “She has a point,” he mumbled, then suddenly looked struck. “What does she mean congratulate me for a fine fight?”
Christopher gave Marcus an irritated glare before focusing on his wife again. “What brought this up again?”
She stuck out her lip. “Nothing. I….I just want to be the one to congratulate you, ’tis all.”
“And you shall, in the privacy of our bedchamber,” he replied evenly. “Not in front of the whole of Windsor and London.”
She scowled. “And why not in front of them? Are you ashamed of me?”
Marcus started to laugh and Christopher was highly annoyed at both of them. “Of course not, Dustin, but what we do between ourselves is a private matter, not to be displayed for public scrutiny.”
“We are married, Chris. They know that we do far more than merely kiss,” she shot back, putting her hands on her hips. “If you won’t let me award trophies, then I will not come at all.”
Christopher moved toward her and away from the hysterical Marcus, gripping her arm tightly and leading her several feet away. She frowned fiercely at him.
“Do not look at me like that,” he snapped. “And do not speak to me in that tone, either. I have warned you about that.”
“Then why cannot I award the prizes?” she persisted. “Oh, please? Do not deny me.”
As much as he hated to admit it, her reasoning was sound. He knew he would be the victor, and he would like nothing better than to be kissed by his wife. But she would be kissing him in front of John and Ralph, and he knew he would not be able to control his emotions when he held her in his arms. They would see right through the rigid facade he was trying to maintain.
“Very well, I will think on it,” he said finally, watching her face light up with a huge smile. He held up a warning finger. “But I promise nothing other than that.”
“That is enough, husband.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him two or three times before he peeled her from him.
“Dustin, not out here, sweet,” he admonished her softly. “Not in front of the men.”
She pouted. “You are ashamed of me, then. You do not even want your own men to see me touch you.”
He gave her a stern glare. “That, lady, is a lie and you well know it. But there is a time and place for everything, and kissing me in front of my knights is not the correct place for that action.”
She was still put off, turning away from him and crossing her arms. He watched her as he adjusted his armor and put his gauntlets back on.
“I will say this, Lady de Lohr,” he said, softly and richly. “I am more proud of you and your beauty than you can imagine. Mayhap that is why I wish to keep what is between us private. To see you display affection inflames every man who sees it; to see nothing more than courtesy and warmth between us only fuels their imagination and nothing more. What I do with you is my private heaven and no one else’s.”
She gazed up at him, deeply touched by his words. “Cannot I at least kiss you once in a while, should it be appropriate?”
He gave her a half grin and leaned down, kissing her on the lips so sweetly that she lost her balance. “Aye, you may. And I give myself permission to kiss you wherever and whenever I damn well please. Satisfied?”
She nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Aye.”
Marcus watched them from afar, trying to busy himself with his armor and sword, trying to pretend he didn’t notice the exchange. But he did, and it cut through him. He tried to ignore the twisting in his chest, venting his frustration with his jerky movements. He’d never been jealous in his life but knew that he was feeling his first at that moment, and he was disgusted with himself for it. His infatuations usually lasted a mere day or so, but this one had not only failed to dissipate, it had increased in strength.
But it could go no further, he told himself. Lady Dustin was married to his liege, and he was not about to jeopardize everything he had ever worked for simply for a woman. Mayhap if he told himself that enough he would believe it, although a fleeting thought told him that she would be worth every heartache should it come to that.
*
Dustin dressed carefully for her first formal supper. She knew that there would be scads of elegantly dressed women, and she would simply have to make do with what she had. She had never in her life cared for fine clothes or jewelry, but she wished she had some now. She wondered if Christopher would be ashamed of her because she was not swathed in expensive finery. He had disappeared to parts unknown but Leeton and Dud were out in the antechamber acting as her protectors.
She had her maids hem up a surcoat Rebecca had not quite finished, a surcoat of exquisite ruby-red brocade, almost a garnet it was so rich. The neckline was wide-open, hugging her arms just below the shoulders and clinging to her figure with long sleeves and a snug bodice. Her white breasts were displayed most provocatively, and she smiled when she knew that Rebecca had made it this way with her trip to London in mind. The skirt of the surcoat was huge and flowing, creating a train in back when she walked.
She sat in front of a lovely carved vanity, absently brushing her hair and wondering what she should do with the unruly mass. It was so long and she had so much of it that it would completely cover up the surcoat if she let it, so again for the first time in her life, she was sorry she knew nothing of the latest hairstyles.
One of her maids, a short plump woman with a fat face, watched her young mistress for some time before approaching timidly.
“Do ye want yer hair properly done, my lady?” she asked with a smile, gazing at Dustin in the reflection of the mirror.
Dustin sighed. “I do not know. I don’t know what to do with it. I want to look fashionable, but I do not know how.”
The maid put the shift she was holding down on a chair. “If ye would allow me, my lady, I will help ye.”
“Would you, Marta? I would appreciate it greatly,” Dustin said sincerely.
The woman nodded, beaming, and scooted from the room. Dustin waited several minutes before the woman came hustling back with a strange-looking device in her hand. She immediately went to the hearth and lay it upon the coals.
“What’s that?” Dustin asked distrustfully.
“A French frizzing iron,” the woman announced. “We shall do wonderful things with that mane of yers. Another maid is coming to help me, with your approval.”
Dustin nodded, trusting that the women knew what they were doing. She certainly didn’t.
An hour later, curled and brushed and primped, Dustin was allowed to look at herself for the first time. Initial shock was immediately replaced by a wide, happy grin.
The frizzing iron had done just that, it crimped her long hair until it was a mass of wavy brocade.
The castle maid had pulled the hair around her face back, braiding it, and then wrapping that braid around her head to keep the hair off her face. Yards of wavy, silky hair cascaded down her back in glorious fashion. Tiny tendrils of crimped hair caressed her lovely face.
Dustin hardly recognized herself, and she was absolutely delighted with her hair. She knew that only unmarried women wore their hair free at court, sometimes adorning it with pretty barrettes or thin nets, but she had far too much hair for those trappings. She had no choice but to leave it free and lovely. She admired herself in the mirror, turning around and around until she was dizzy and laughing, hoping her husband liked it, too.
With her hair dressed and finished, she pulled on delicate cream-colored hose and slippers to match, which were too tight because they had been her mother’s. But she didn’t care, she was actually pleased with her appearance this night and nothing could spoil her mood.
The castle maid had one more trick up her sleeve before leaving. She took the beeswax and ocher that Dustin had brought with her and mixed it together until she had a shade that was barely colored red. Then, she added a bit of oil, just enough to make it workable, and then deftly painted Dustin’s lips with it.
Dustin studied herself in the mirror, vastly pleased with her slightly red, slightly glossy lips. She kept rubbing her lips together nervously, unused to the cosmetic. Yet with her hair up and her lips painted, she didn’t feel like quite such an outsider. She could not wait to be seen, positive the results were pleasing.
She wasn’t disappointed. Leeton and Dud could only stare at her in awe. Leeton was the first to remember his manners, taking her hand and kissing it softly. Dustin simply beamed.
“Do you really like it?” she grilled them.
They nodded firmly. “Aye, my lady, there is no one who can match your beauty,” Leeton said truthfully.
“ ’Tis not too much? Too red? Too much hair?” she pushed, wanting to know if they were being honest with her. She could probably wear an old sack and they would tell her she was the fairest maiden in all the land.
“Nay, my lady, you are…..ravishing,” Leeton assured her.
Dustin blushed appreciatively. “Thank you. Do you think Christopher will think so?”
Leeton’s smile faded a bit. “Oh, yes, my lady, he will. I promise you that.”
Pleased with herself, she wandered over to the window to wait for her husband to return for her.
There was a knock on the door several minutes later. Leeton unsheathed his sword as Dud rose to answer.
Edward and Sir Trent stood in the doorway, dressed in their armored best. They pushed their way into the room, stunned into reverent silence when they beheld Lady de Lohr. Edward, after a moment of gaping at her, swallowed hard and turned to Leeton.
“Go and change into appropriate attire,” he said. “Trent and I will keep the lady company. Return here when you are finished and we will escort Lady de Lohr to the feast.”
“Why would you escort me?” Dustin wanted to know. “Where is my husband?”
“He is indisposed, Lady de Lohr, nothing to be concerned with,” Edward replied evenly. “He will join us shortly.”
Dustin, disappointed, wandered back over to the window and sat in a chair, staring at her hands. Edward followed Leeton and Dud out into the hall, making sure the door was closed tightly before turning to them.
“What is wrong?” Leeton wanted to know. He could hear something in Edward’s tone.
“I am not sure,” Edward replied in a whisper. “Marcus was cornered by Ralph an hour ago and was ordered to champion the prince in the tournament. Marcus, of course, refused and nearly killed the man. Now they are all in the prince’s apartments, and Christopher and David have gone with him for support. Unfortunately, the prince demanded a private meeting and Christopher and David are waiting in the hall like caged beasts. ’Tis not a pleasant situation, to say the least. That is why we are to escort Dustin to the feast and wait for them there.”
“Damn,” Leeton muttered. “Champion John? Who in the hell would want to do that?”
Edward cocked a wry eyebrow. “No one, which is why they are trying to order Marcus into the position,” he replied. “Even though Christopher commands the troops, knights are not truly considered a part of that vocation. John is trying to insist that knights fall under the command of the ruling body.”
“If Marcus were to champion John, then he would be competing against Christopher,” Dud thought aloud. “As awesome a prospect as that is, it is also frightening. They would surely kill one another.”
The men stood a moment in silence, each contemplating their own horrific thoughts until Edward stirred for the door.
“Off with you both,” he commanded softly, “and a quick return.”
Without another word, Leeton and Dud disappeared down the corridor.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Marcus stood stiffly in Prince John’s antechamber, his jaw ticking with frustration. Ralph and the prince sat several feet away, side by side, as if they were an ugly pair of statues. The conversation had reached a lull with Marcus refusing to budge and Ralph nursing a sore jaw. If it were up to Marcus, he would be nursing a broken neck as well.
John sat back in his silk chair, angry at the refusal of this mere knight to champion him but holding his temper for the moment. He would gain nothing if he erupted and he knew it.
“Tell me again why this proposal is so distasteful to you, Burton,” he asked nicely, hoping to cool the enraged man. An angry Marcus Burton was not healthy for anyone.
Marcus gazed at him impassively. “I serve Baron Christopher de Lohr, and King Richard is my liege. I will serve no other.”
“But I am Richard’s brother,” John pleaded. “As crown prince, ’tis right that you should serve me as well, is it not?”
“Nay,” Marcus said flatly. “I serve my king.”
Ralph muttered something but John cut him off, switching tactics. It was obvious Marcus Burton could not be ordered, pushed or tricked into anything; they had been trying that for the better part of the hour. Therefore, he would try another route.
“Burton, you are the best knight in the realm, everyone knows that,” John said. “You should have titles, glory, everything you deserve, but instead you choose to serve a mere baron when you, in fact should be a baron yourself.”
Marcus merely cocked an eyebrow. John continued. “I could grant you a baronetcy, Burton. You could have lands, a magnificent keep, and the most beautiful wife in the land. Everything you deserve and desire can be yours for doing me a simple favor.”
Marcus looked away, outwardly disinterested when, in fact, he knew John had the power to grant exactly what he promised. If accepting a baronetcy from John would compromise his standing with Richard, then he would absolutely refuse. Still, much to his regret, he found himself remotely interested. As a powerful baron, he could control much in England and maintain the country for Richard’s return. And there was truth to the feeling that he was somewhat jealous of Christopher for his new lands, wishing Richard had seen it fit to bestow the same glory on his head.
And why hadn’t he? Christopher was not a better man than he. He had two years of service on Marcus, that was all, and although he was a better tactician, he was not a better soldier. The resentment he pretended didn’t exist suddenly seeped through his veins, and for another reason as well; Lady Dustin.
John watched Marcus’ impassive face, knowing the man must at least be thinking on his offer. He would be a fool not to.
“Think on it, Burton,” John repeated, quieter. “I shall grant you your heart’s desire if you do one small, simple thing for me as being my champion.”
Marcus looked at him. “I must refuse again, sire. I want no part of you.”
Ralph and John glanced at each other and Ralph stood up, though keeping a safe distance from the huge man. Something unspoken was passed in that glance, something that hinted of a darker purpose. Marcus didn’t catch it, but Ralph
knew what he had to do. Information had come to them earlier that day, by way of a soldier’s comment and rumors that were too valuable to pass up. Like any good tactician, Ralph would use it to gain their wants. He went for the throat.
“ ’Twould be a shame if Sir Christopher happened to find out that you kissed his wife,” he said casually. “I wonder what he would say?”
Marcus could not stop himself from reacting. His head snapped to Ralph and the cobalt blue eyes flamed. His first instinct was to kill them both outright, but he controlled himself so forcefully that his body began to shake.
“Who told you such outrageous lies?” he demanded in a low, hostile growl.
“Not lies, but fact, I am told,” Ralph said smugly. “Did you really think you were all alone with her in the common room at the inn? With twenty-five soldiers milling about, preparing to leave, wouldn’t it make sense that at least one of them would see you?”
Marcus knew he went pale. His stomach churned wildly and he fought off the overwhelming urge to react outwardly, when in fact he knew he could not. His life, mayhap Dustin’s life, depended on his control.
“I am also told you spent a good deal of time alone with her in her room,” Ralph went on. “Mayhap there was more than kissing going on? Should Lady Dustin bear a child some months from now, ’twill be interesting to see if the child has black hair or blond hair.”
Marcus could not breathe with his fury. “Such vicious lies should not be allowed to go unpunished,” he seethed. “To make it easy, I will kill every one of the soldiers that accompanied the lady and I to London. That should eliminate your spy.”
Ralph smiled. “They are Sir Christopher’s men and you will have to answer to him if you commit such a crime. What would you tell him was your reasoning?”
“To kill a liar and nothing more,” Marcus replied evenly, trying to regain control of his wits. “For that is the only true reason. You should execute your spy yourself for relaying such falsehoods. I have had enough of this conversation.”
He moved for the door and they let him. John called after him.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 32