“Crag Armitage,” one soldier replied firmly. “He is inside with the baron now, my lord.”
Without another word, Marcus pushed past the soldiers and kicked open the door to the antechamber.
Christopher was reaming the unfortunate sergeant as Marcus breezed in with Dustin cradled in his arms. One look at Marcus holding his wife and Christopher practically kicked the soldier out, his face contorted with rage.
“What do you do?” he demanded ferociously.
“I found her wandering the halls downstairs,” Marcus replied steadily. “She’s exhausted.”
Christopher snatched Dustin from Marcus’ arms, setting her down roughly and she stumbled, falling back even as he reached out to steady her. But his attention, his anger, was solely focused on Marcus. Veins were bulging and his outrage had reached its limit. It began to overflow, spilling out all over the place, and Christopher spoke before he could think about what he was truly saying.
“You are dismissed, Burton,” he growled.
Marcus’ eyebrows rose, off-guard. “I… what did you say?”
“You heard me,” Christopher snapped. “You are dismissed from my corp. I want you away from Windsor, and away from my wife. If I ever see you again, I will kill you.”
Marcus’ dander rose, fury to match Christopher’s. “For what? For God’s sake, Chris, I was just….”
Christopher cut him off. “You will address me as ‘my lord’ from now on,” he roared. “Get out of my sight, Burton, or so help me, I shall drop you where you stand.
Marcus’ expression turned deadly. “You may try, my lord,” he said in a low voice, “but I will defend myself wholly, for I have done nothing wrong.”
“You have done nothing but covet my wife and break God’s holy commandment,” Christopher seethed. “If the only way I can keep you away from her is to banish you from my sight and service, then so be it.”
Marcus was stunned. He stared back at the baron in complete disbelief, not wanting to believe his words. He finally shook his head slowly.
“You are mad,” he hissed. “Would you have preferred that I left her wandering the halls for John or Ralph to find?”
“Get out.” Christopher turned his back on his former friend and knight. He could not stomach the sight of him anymore. “I have nothing more to say to you.”
Dustin, having sat in shocked silence throughout the exchange, suddenly found her voice. “You are not being fair, Chris,” she said. “Marcus did nothing.”
“Nothing but lie to me, nothing but covet you,” he whirled around to Marcus again. “Is there anything else you have failed to mention? I never asked you if you bedded my wife back at the inn. Did you?”
“I told you he didn’t,” Dustin insisted.
“And I swore to you on the Holy Bible that I never touched your wife in that manner,” Marcus said. “I can do no more than that.”
“What you have done is driven an irreversible wedge in Richard’s loyalists,” Christopher said. “You always were a womanizer but I never believed that you would stoop so low as to pursue my own wife. ’Tis your own actions you must blame for this.”
“And what of you,” Marcus shot back, his massive body rigid. “How dare you speak of betrayal when you saw it fit to bed a serving wench after you had taken your vows with your wife. Mayhap you are ignoring your own guilt by focusing on me.”
Christopher’s eyes widened, cut down by the information, now used against him. It had been a weak moment that was coming back to haunt him. But he stood his ground. “I have no guilt,” he insisted, jaw ticking. “Dustin has forgiven me, which is of no concern to you.”
Marcus was still posturing furiously. “It is not my concern, but you stand here accusing me of a heinous crime when, in fact, ’twas a kiss I stole. I did not bed the woman.” He jabbed a finger at Christopher. “How dare you act the hypocrite!”
“You are jealous,” Christopher said as if the entire concept had just dawned on him. “You are jealous of me, of my titles and land, and of my wife. Aren’t you? So you intend to destroy what you cannot have.”
“Stop it!” Dustin shrieked. “Listen to what you are saying!”
They were ignoring her, their eyes spitting venom at each other. Finally, Marcus turned for the door. He was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t. Dustin, her hands on her mouth, took a few timid steps after him.
“Please, Marcus,” she pleaded softly. “He did not mean it.”
“Leave him alone, Dustin,” Christopher snapped, turning his back on Marcus. “He must go.”
She backed off, her eyes extending a thousand apologies to Marcus. He gazed at her, his body riddled with pain and jealousy, wishing he could take her with him, but more concerned with the ending of his relationship with Christopher. He simply could not believe what was happening. Shocked and furious, he quit the room.
When he was gone, Dustin turned her tear-streaked face to her husband. “How could you do that?” she demanded. “You had no reason!”
He didn’t answer her, leaning against the wall and staring out of the window into the night. His jaw was still ticking, beads of sweat on his forehead. He was angered and sickened, devastated and grieved. He was so much at the moment that he couldn’t single out one particular hurt. It was all hurt.
“Go to bed, Dustin,” he said finally.
Devastated, Dustin let her wrap fall to the floor and she wandered woodenly toward the bedchamber door. She paused a moment, trying to think of something to say, but no words would come. All she knew is that something horrible had happened this night, and she was responsible for it.
If there was any doubt that he hated her before, there was none now.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Marcus, furious and irrational, found himself wandering aimlessly through Windsor’s great corridors. All of his senses were reeling, his mind focused on Christopher’s rage and words, and wondering if he should return to protect Dustin from his wrath. Yet he knew the anger was focused on him and him alone, and that hurt him to the core. A moment of weakness would apparently cost him what he had worked for all his life.
He found himself wandering the royal wing, padding along the fine woolen rugs. He stopped and turned himself around, not wanting to be anywhere near John, but there was a body behind him, blocking his path.
Ralph’s lip curled in a sneer. “Took a wrong turn, Burton?”
Marcus wasn’t in the mood for the man. “Move aside, Fitz Walter.”
Ralph, amazingly, did as he was asked and Marcus brushed past him.
“ ’Twould be a shame if anything happened to Lady Dustin, don’t you think?” Ralph said leadingly.
Marcus froze, turning around with slow restraint. “What are you babbling about?”
Ralph shrugged and it just occurred to Marcus that there were no other soldiers in the hall. Ralph had confronted him alone, a rare happening, but it put him all the more on guard.
“Just that,” the sheriff said lightly, leaning against the wall. “Lady Dustin is a beautiful woman, obviously loved by a great many men. ’Twould be a pity if an accident were to befall her.”
He had Marcus’ full attention. “Ralph, let me make this as plain as I may. If Lady Dustin so much as stubs her toe, I will come looking for you and I will kill you. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly,” Ralph said. “But I am sure you will have to stand in line for that honor behind her husband. Unless…unless, of course, you were her husband.”
Marcus’ steely facade was invaded by a hint of annoyance. “That again? I told you once that I would not consider being John’s champion.”
Ralph stared Marcus down for a brief moment, then examined his nails. “Baron Marcus Burton has a certain ring to it,” he said. “And I understand there is a lovely baronetcy in Somerhill simply waiting for a deserving man. You are from York, are you not? Surely Somerhill is of your acquaintance. A perfect place to raise a family with a beautiful woman, far from London and Lioncross.�
�
Marcus was actually listening to him. He was alternately appalled and interested. Ralph looked up, catching the gleam in Marcus’ eye for a split second. He knew when to strike.
“All you have to do is champion John at the tournament,” he insisted. “Burton, you can joust in your sleep. Surely I am not asking too much.”
Marcus fought off the urge to agree with him, closing his eyes and turning away. Yet, for the sake of argument only, he pictured what Ralph was suggesting; with Christopher gone, he could marry Dustin and take her away to the north. Alone, he could champion Richard’s cause and rally the northern barons for their support. And Christopher’s knights could pledge their loyalty to him, with Lioncross falling into the ward of the crown.
But Christopher had to be out of the picture. He tried hard to imagine his friend gone and he simply could not. Tens of thousands of Saracens had tried to kill the Lion’s Claw, what made him think that he could do it, legally, at a tournament?
Marcus shook himself from those thoughts, shocked and disgusted for plotting Christopher’s demise. He could no more kill Christopher than kill himself. How in hell could a simple woman cause him to rethink his morals, his devotions, and his entire life? He wasn’t even sure what he felt for her, but whatever it was, he had never experienced it before and it was making him crazy.
Nay, he could not and would not kill Christopher, no matter how angry he was with him. But he could compete against him.
There was nothing wrong with that, except it was too late to seek a sponsor… except for John. If Marcus won, mayhap regardless if he won, he would have his title and his lands. And, mayhap as well, he would have a bit of revenge.
Slowly, he turned to Ralph, surprised the man was still there looking questioningly at him.
“I will hear more of this,” he mumbled, hating himself even as he said it.
*
Dustin had been asleep for hours. Lying on the huge bed, alone, she looked like a small child. She lay on her back, one arm over her head and the other resting on her stomach, with the firelight reflecting softly on her pale face.
Christopher hadn’t slept at all. He didn’t even enter the bedchamber until he was positive she had fallen asleep, and even then he did nothing more than stare at her.
His mind was still cold with shock and anger, but he was beginning to come around. His anger with Marcus had not abated and standing at the foot of the bed watching his wife sleep somehow intensified his feelings.
Yet it was more than anger, because the bitter twinge of jealousy filled his mouth – jealousy because he knew Marcus to be a fine man and Dustin, being so naïve in ways of the heart, could have just as easily fallen for Marcus.
Mayhap that is why he sent Marcus away. With the man out of his hair, he could better deal with his own feelings toward his wife. With Marcus around, he went out of control so easily and it scared him.
Gazing down at Dustin’s beautiful face, he knew in his heart that he loved her dearly. He always would, no matter what happened. Damn, she could have slept with Marcus and he would have forgiven her simply because he could not stand the thought of being without her.
He meandered around the side of the bed and reached down, stroking a wayward strand of hair from her forehead. She sighed raggedly, turning in the direction of his hand and he felt the heat of desire lick at him. His hand lingered on her forehead, touching her face for a moment before he sat beside her. His fingers combed through her incredible mane, feeling its silkiness against his rough skin and lifting it to his nostrils to inhale the faint rose scent.
The same hand left her hair and traced ever so delicately down her neck, tracing her breasts through her shift. He was aware of his engorged shaft straining against his breeches but he was content to touch her for the time-being, knowing she would spurn any sort of advance once she awoke. He would steal this time, then, to worship her.
He didn’t know how long she had been awake, watching him, for when he happened to glance up from delicately tracing her nipples, her wide gray eyes were on him. Startled, he stopped his exploration and stared back at her, wondering if he should say something. He opened his mouth to tell her he was sorry for waking her when he could not seem to remember the words and before he could stop himself, his mouth and body descended on her.
Dustin should have fought him, but she could not seem to find the strength or the desire. Once his great hands scalded her and his expert tongue licked her lips into a frenzy, she turned herself over completely, forgetting about the anger and fear and hurt that had constituted her day. All that mattered was Christopher, on her, in her, touching her. Even if he didn’t love her, his touch said otherwise and it was easier to pretend.
Her shift was torn down the middle in one swift move and his clothes came off hurriedly as they bit and sucked at each other hungrily. His hands found her breasts, his lips found her nipples, and Dustin’s cries of ecstasy filled the room. He was moving furiously, almost roughly, but she loved all of it and encouraged him onward.
He was absolutely consumed with her. His fingers stoked her most delicate center, coaxing forth her juices that told him without words how badly she wanted him. She was soaking before he could insert a finger into her, and he forewent the finger in lieu of his throbbing manhood.
They came together in a cataclysmic clash of pure desire. He thrust into her in one long, powerful movement and she moaned loudly, biting her lip to keep from screaming. He drove into her, again and again, watching her nipples harden in response to his force, watching her breasts shake with the power of his thrusts. She was so tight and slick that in no time at all he was convulsively spilling himself into her. Dustin, feeling him throbbing and pulsing within her, could not help but answer in volcanic triumph.
When the tempest passed and they were basking in the warm musk of their lovemaking, Christopher felt her stiffen in his arms and he knew that her guard had gone back up.
“Dustin,” he said softly. “I am…I am sorry that you had to witness my exchange with Marcus. But you must understand that I had to do what I felt best for you. For us.”
“As you say, my lord,” she said, aloof.
He sighed into her hair. “Do not be angry with me, sweetheart.”
“What does it matter? You have made it obvious that I am good for naught much else but bedding and appearance,” she said. “As you have just proven, you can easily take what you want from me no matter how I feel.”
He pushed himself up, away from her. “Do not place the blame on me, lady. You responded quite easily.”
She didn’t look at him. “That is because sex is all we have between us, my lord. You respond to my body, I respond to you, and soon we will beget an heir. Do you think it possible that you could love your child even if you do not love the child’s mother?”
He rolled off the bed, angrily pulling on his breeches and boots. “Go back to sleep, Dustin.”
She closed her eyes obediently. Angry and bitter, he pulled his tunic on and moved for the door, but not before gazing back at her face, preparing for one final retort. But the words died in his throat when he noticed two wet trails leading from her eyes to the pillow.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I still do not believe it,” David growled.
It was a bright and lovely morning. The knights, all of them, and Christopher were marching purposefully for Prince John’s audience chamber. They had been summoned by a triumphant steward, requesting their presence by order of the prince. The purpose of the meeting was to announce that John had finally selected a champion.
They were met in the halls by several other competitors, all summoned for the same purpose. There was talk of who had been foolish enough to accept John’s offer, but no one was positive as to who it might be. David and Leeton kept pestering Christopher as to where Marcus was, but Christopher would only shake his head and change the subject. Edward already guessed what might have happened, and furthermore suspected just who the new champion was. Christ
opher suspected it too.
As the doors to the audience chamber opened and the knights and men began to file in, Edward made sure he walked in beside his liege.
“It’s Marcus, you know,” he murmured.
Christopher’s face hardened. “If it is, then I pity him. He is a bigger fool than I thought.”
“You two had words last night,” Edward remarked, a statement and not a question.
Christopher didn’t answer, making sure he found a place as close to the door as possible. He didn’t want to be in the very front for John’s scrutiny.
“Marcus no longer serves me, and if he is John’s champion, then he no longer serves Richard, and is considered the enemy,” Christopher finally said, quietly.
Edward shook his head regretfully. “Marcus isn’t the enemy any more than I am,” he said. “If he is John’s champion, then he must have a damn good reason.”
“He does,” Christopher snapped. “We are sworn enemies and he wishes to defeat me.”
“Sworn ene…?” Edward’s brow furrowed. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
Christopher shook his head harshly, not wanting to answer, noticing that the prince and Ralph were entering the room. Edward continued to eye him even as the crier announced the prince, as the man graciously acknowledged his subjects.
“Thank you for coming, loyal vassals,” John said with a sappy overture. “I know that your day is busy, yet I found this announcement too important to wait until tomorrow, so I will make it short and to the point. A new baron has joined your ranks, a man entirely worthy of the title I have bestowed upon him. A man who served our king and my brother in the Holy Land, and whose reputation for fairness and righteousness is unparalleled.”
David and the other knights eyed each other and Christopher. He refused to look at any of them.
“This new baron will be my champion tomorrow in the games, and I expect to win,” John said, laughing at his jest, though it was not a jest. “I know that you are extremely curious to know just who this man is, so with no further delay, I will introduce you to the realm’s mightiest warrior, Marcus Burton, Baron Somerhill.”
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 36