“Why?” he pleaded. “Dustin, what do you want me to say that will make things well between us again? Is it that you want to hear me tell you that I love you? Would that make things right again?”
She shook her head. “Even if you were to tell me that, I’d know you were lying.” She put her shaking hand to her lips. “I have been so stupid; stupid enough to believe that I could be happy in this marriage. But it appears that our marriage will go the way of so many others, whereon we will simply tolerate each other. Even so, I seem to have driven a wedge between you and your men, and mayhap for that you will grow to hate me.”
“Dustin, Dustin,” he sighed softly. “I told you I care for you deeply, and I do. I thought you were happy. I know I have never been happier, yet in the same thought I have never been more confused. If you are not happy, what is it you want from me?”
“Nothing,” she said shortly, moving to the dressing table and smoothing at her hair. “They are expecting us downstairs.”
Her back was stiff, her manner reminiscent of the first day he had met her. Cold. Hard. Distant. His stomach twisted with regret and sorrow.
“Do not do this,” he said softly. “Please… don’t.”
“Do what?” She turned to him, her look innocent. “I am Lady de Lohr in name and body, and I will act the part. That is all you want from me, anyway, isn’t it? What did you call me once ‘additional baggage?’”
He let out a hissing curse. “And I also told you that I was sorry I said that,” he snapped. “You are not additional baggage, Dustin. Damnation, woman, I’d take you over that bloody keep any day of the week.”
Her eyes widened but she controlled her reaction. She knew how much Lioncross meant to him and for him to make that declaration astonished her. She should have been deeply flattered, but she wasn’t. She was still stinging from his words to Edward and they were the only thing that filled her mind.
She lowered her gaze. “I am hungry. Let us go downstairs.”
He stared at her a moment, knowing that would be the only reaction he would get from her. She was deeply hurt and he had only himself to thank for that. He could right it if he were strong enough, but he wasn’t. He simply wasn’t strong enough to open his heart fully to her and risk the destruction of his soul.
*
Christopher and Dustin entered the cathedral-sized great hall of Windsor Castle with great flourish. As Christopher knew it would be, every man in the room turned to stare at his wife as they passed by on their way to the head table. Everyone knew Christopher and had heard he had married, but this was the very first anyone had seen of lovely Lady Dustin de Lohr.
Dustin was awed by the spectacle before her but tried not to show it. She tried to be as expressionless and aloof as possible, but it was difficult not to let her eyes wander over the magnificent trappings of the hall. And the people, Lord, the people were dressed finer than any she had ever seen and she thought that surely even Heaven could not be this resplendent.
Christopher didn’t say a word to her as he led her to the table and seated her between David and himself. The knights had all risen respectfully as she entered the hall, their gazes never wandering from her or their liege. They were, in fact, surprised to see her at all.
Dustin actually smiled at them as Christopher pulled out her chair, noticing that several seats down were Prince John and Sir Ralph, and they both smiled seedily at her. She quickly averted her gaze and took her seat.
The room was abuzz with conversation as the servants brought out the first of several courses. Various boiled vegetables were set in front of Dustin and, her stomach being twisted in knots, made no move to eat them. Christopher and the other men dove into their food with gusto, but Dustin found her attention still drawn to the entire room and its occupants.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Christopher asked softly.
“Later,” she said, not looking at him.
He continued with his food and Dustin continued to ignore him, noticing how the women were variously dressed and thinking that she did fit in, at least somewhat. She was so caught up in her observations of women with sleeve cuffs that trailed so long that they went all the way to the floor that it took her several minutes to notice a particularly solicitous serving wench on the other side of her husband.
The woman, a bit older than herself, had been hovering over Christopher since the meal began, refilling his goblet and offering him her apron to wipe his beard with. He was ignoring her for the most part, but Dustin flared with jealousy. Hurt or no, angry or no, no serving wench was going to lust after her husband.
She shot out of her chair, her face flushed with fury, and grabbed the unfortunate woman by the hair. Christopher was hit in the back of the head by the struggling women, astonished to hear his wife’s calm, low voice as she called the wench every insulting name she could ever think of as she led her away from the table and towards one of the exit doors. There was no mistaking her meaning.
Christopher and his men watched as Dustin practically threw the girl from the room and then returned to the table as if she had done nothing more than have a pleasant conversation with the wench. Calmly, she reclaimed her seat and picked up her spoon. Everyone exchanged stunned glances as she, quite calmly, resumed eating.
“Would you mind telling me what that was all about?” Christopher asked her.
She took a mouthful of vegetables. “I did not like the way she was serving you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you bodily removed her from the room?”
She fixed him with a hard gaze. “I did, and I shall do the same thing to any other wench who tries to ‘serve’ you.”
He did grin, then. “Dustin, I am…flattered.”
“Don’t be,” she snapped. “I am your wife and am simply protecting my honor.”
His smile vanished. With a heavy heart, he resumed his meal.
They were being served a course of venison in a sweet sauce when Ralph suddenly appeared in front of them, his oily face focused on Dustin. Dustin nearly choked when she looked up and saw him leering down at her.
“What do you want, Ralph?” Christopher demanded coldly.
“Me? Nothing,” he said. “But our glorious prince has sent me to offer his hearty approval to Lady Dustin’s bold action. A protective wife is a wonderful thing, de Lohr. Yet if she is that aggressive with a woman who had not even touched you, I wonder how you, baron, would deal with a man who had indeed done more than lay a hand on your wife?”
Christopher returned to his food. “I would kill him, of course.”
“Even Marcus Burton?” Ralph’s gaze flicked two chairs to Dustin’s left.
Dustin’s head came up, her eyes wide. But Christopher didn’t flinch. “And what lies do you have to tell me about Marcus?” he asked disinterestedly.
Ralph smiled directly at Dustin. “Ask your wife, de Lohr. She will tell you.”
Dustin was close to exploding. With all of the raging emotions she was feeling, they were begging for a release. She could not believe what she was hearing and, before she realized what she was doing, she stood up and slapped Ralph Fitz Walter across the face as hard as she could.
“You evil little bastard,” she hissed.
The entire table shot to their feet, Christopher with his hand to the hilt of his sword but making no move to stop his wife. The front portion of the room that witnessed the action went silent and the silence spread as the explanation went from person to person.
She had hit him hard. Ralph’s head snapped sharply to his left with momentum and slowly, he brought it around to face Dustin again. Her face was angry and flushed, but her gaze didn’t waver. Ralph knew he could not seek revenge now, in front of her husband, but he was deeply humiliated. He forced himself to smile at her.
“Too close to home, my lady?” he said thinly. “Mayhap you should have used the same tactic on Marcus in the common room at the inn.”
Dustin was livid and unthinking. She bound onto the table, skirts
and all, and would have throttled Ralph had it not been for Christopher grabbing her. He hauled his hissing, kicking wife against him and had to yell at David and Marcus to keep them from charging Ralph in her stead. Edward grabbed hold of Marcus to control the big man.
“Dustin,” Christopher said harshly. “Stop it. You are making a scene.”
She stilled, aware that he was right and trying desperately to control her fear and anger. But she was reeling with shock and disbelief; how in God’s name did Ralph find out about Marcus and her? More importantly, what would Christopher think now? If Christopher wasn’t sure he loved her before, then surely this would kill any affection he had for her.
Ralph, having accomplished what he had set out to do, abandoned the table, leaving everyone in an uproar.
Dustin simply wanted to die. She fell back into her chair, her hands covering her face miserably, as Christopher and Edward tried to calm the table and each other. She could not even look at Marcus; she wondered if he were even still at the table. Surely he would turn and run for his life. Mayhap she should go with him.
There was a cup thrust at her, big hands forcing hers around it. “Drink this, sweetheart,” Christopher murmured. “Be a good lass and drink up.”
Shaking, she took several large swallows. Christopher had one hand on her wrists, helping her drink, while a big arm was draped over her shoulders. Dustin thought that mayhap he would get her drunk to lessen the pain when he killed her, but his expression looked deeply concerned, and that puzzled her.
“That’s my good girl, take another drink,” his voice was soft and rich, caring even. She gazed up at him, wondering when he was going to take her head off, but he simply smiled at her. “Are you all right?”
She could not even answer him. She was looking at him, but not really comprehending anything. His smile faded. “Dustin, are you all right?” he asked again.
She opened her mouth feebly but words refused to come forth. She was suddenly quite warm.
Christopher snatched the cup from her, reaching down to pick her up. David was standing up on her other side, aiding his brother as he collected the huge skirt.
“I am taking her out,” Christopher told his brother. “Stay here and enjoy the evening. Come and see me when the festivities have ceased.”
“What about Ralph?” David demanded.
Christopher fixed him with a deadly glare. “I shall deal with Ralph.” He swept Dustin from the room amidst the chaos.
Marcus saw them go from the corner of his eye, feeling sick and angered. He wished it could be he who comforted Dustin, for God only knew how mad and ashamed she was. He should have sought her out earlier, to explain what had happened and to tell her what he had told Christopher. He hadn’t exactly lied, but he hadn’t exactly told the full truth. He wondered if he would indeed be a dead man come the morn.
Leaving the great hall in chaos, Christopher carried Dustin to their apartments. It was quiet and dark except for the banked fire in the hearth. Christopher was as gentle as a mother as he carried Dustin into their bed chamber and laid her upon their bed.
Dustin lay there, curling up into a big red and blond ball as if she could fold in on herself and hide. Christopher removed his armor in silence, stripped off his shirt and pulled off his boots. He then proceeded to bank the fire in the hearth before finally turning to his catatonic wife.
“Did Ralph’s words upset you so?” he said quietly.
She closed her eyes and hot tears ran across her face and onto the pillow. “Are you going to kill me?”
He looked shocked. “Kill you? Why on earth would I kill you? Do you actually think that for one moment I would believe that snake’s lies?”
Her eyes opened after a moment. Then, slowly, she turned to look at him. He looked like a great ethereal being with the firelight silhouetting his massive frame. It took her several long moments to grasp what he had just said.
“You do not…you do not believe him?” she whispered before she could stop herself.
“Of course not, Dustin,” he said curtly. “I know Marcus better than that, and I would hope that I would know you better, too. Ralph and John will spare nothing to gain their ends and destroy me. Using you and Marcus was nothing short of vile, even for them.”
She sat up, her hair spilling over her. Her relief was immense but she was afraid to say anything lest he suspect that her relief was a bit too great. Yet there was one point in all of this that bothered her tremendously; he obviously trusted her, and she had done naught to earn it. She felt guilty all over again.
“Thank you, my lord,” she said softly, for she could think of naught else to say.
“For what? For rejecting their lies?” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Something occurred to her at that moment; when she had heard the rumors about her husband having bed a serving wench, she had confronted him and he had confessed. With that knowledge, she was able to deal with it and move on. Yet here the same opportunity presented itself and she took the coward’s way out by omitting the truth. Mayhap if she placed the blame on herself, where it truly lay, then he would not be so harsh with Marcus. The thought of her living with this lie hanging over her head was unbearable.
Out of respect, out of guilt, mayhap to hurt him as he had hurt her, she realized she was about to confess. Perhaps there were many reasons for it. All she knew was that she had to. Her great gray eyes turned to him and she could see that his expression was soft. She met his gaze steadily.
“Chris, Ralph spoke the truth,” she said softly. “Marcus did indeed kiss me in the common room at the Inn. It was short and went no further, but it happened. His guilt is as great as mine.”
Christopher stared at her a long time. In faith, he didn’t trust himself to speak. He could see simply by her expression that she was being open and honest with him, and that drove a knife into his belly. So it was true. Though he kept his gaze on her, something in his expression changed. The warmth fled, replaced by shock and ice.
Dustin could see the change come over him. She hadn’t expected anything different. “You were truthful with me, once, when I asked you about the serving wench you bedded,” she said softly. “I cannot lie to you about this and I can only pray that you forgive me as I forgave you.”
He bolted off the bed, pacing toward the windows aimlessly. His hands began to work, great plate-sized hands, clenching and unclenching, finally dragging through his hair. His body was tensing more and more with each step he took.
“Is that all that happened?” he asked, his voice tight. “What about all of the time he spent with you in your room?”
“He never touched me, I swear it,” she said evenly. “He was never anything but perfectly courteous. He kissed me, once, that was all.”
“Did you like it?” he snapped, then regained hold of himself. “I did not mean that. Christ, Dustin.…”
She was incredibly calm, much more than she thought possible. “Nay, I didn’t,” she said quietly. “I was shocked and angered. I can only tell you that it wasn’t planned, that I do not hold feelings for Marcus, and that it will never happen again.”
His hands were still moving, tensing. “Then he lied to me.”
“If he did, it was only to protect me,” she said. “He fears you, and he respects you, and he realized the gravity of the mistake. We both do.”
He looked at her then, and she saw anguish in his eyes. Dustin was suddenly inflamed by the pain, for he had caused it in her heart many a time and she was outraged that he should act as though he had been hurt. He wasn’t hurt; the only thing injured was his honor.
“At least I didn’t bed the man,” she exclaimed, hurt and anger filling her. “You did not extend me any consideration before you were pumping your seed into another woman. And do not act as if you are wounded by this action, my lord, for the only thing that is damaged is your pride.”
She expected him to fly at her, but he didn’t. He looked as if she had taken a dirk and stabbed him i
n the heart with it. “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” she fired back. “I am your chattel, your wife whom you profess to be fond of, a pretty little chit whom you subject to your commands and moods and politics. That is all there is to Lady de Lohr in your eyes.”
He clenched his teeth, trying so very hard to maintain himself but not doing a very good job. She had hurt him, perhaps more than anyone ever had, and his primal need for satisfaction lashed out at her.
“What else are you good for?” he growled.
He might as well have hit her. Her jaw clamped shut and her eyes softened with agony, but she did not look away from him. She maintained her gaze, her dignity, for all she was worth.
“If nothing more,” she whispered, “of giving you a fortress.”
He stared at her, deeply remorseful for what he had said. She was so easily crushed, but the truth was he was hurting, too. As much as he tried to convince himself that it was merely his honor at stake, he knew that his heart was gravely wounded. He was bleeding.
With nothing more to say, Dustin turned away from him and climbed off the bed. Her movements were lethargic and slow, as if it was taking everything out of her simply to move.
“I would sleep in the other bedchamber,” she said quietly.
When she moved past him, he called out to her softly. “You will not,” he said. “ ’Tis not safe for you to sleep alone. You will sleep in here, with me.”
She looked up at him. “Under the circumstances, I am sure you can.…”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “Nay, lady, you will stay here. You may have the bed and I shall…sleep on the chair.”
Pain such as she had never known welled in her as she began removing her tight surcoat, anything to busy herself. She wanted to go to sleep, to forget about this for a short while. Mayhap when she awoke, fresh, she would be better able to cope. As it was, she was as brittle as kindling and Christopher’s presence only made her feel worse.
“You are not going to kill Marcus, are you?” she asked softly, fumbling weakly with her stays.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 34