Her husband’s squire and the other squires; for each knight had one, were experts at making themselves scarce, and were only around when they were needed. A few of them looked to be about her age. She also recognized some of the grooms that were handling the destriers and knew at least two of them to be from Lioncross. Strange, she thought, how she never noticed the people beyond the knights; these were people who obviously knew their jobs because her husband’s small camp ran much better than most of the others, and she decided that she would get to know who these competent vassals were.
The stands were virtually empty except for a few observers here and there. Christopher had posted three soldiers behind her as guard, men who were chasing the puppies as much as they were watching over her. Glancing about at all of the color and activity, she noticed a young woman sitting several yards away from her, almost to the opposite end of the stands. Dustin studied the girl quickly; she was very pretty with long, straight medium-brown hair. She was probably about her own age, sitting with a much older woman as a companion. She made eye contact with her and turned away quickly, but not before catching a slight smile on the girl’s lips.
David and Leeton were the first of Christopher’s knights to go against Baron Sedgewick’s men. Dustin felt her spirits lift as the two men skillfully handled their opponents, not intending to defeat them at first since this was practice. The intent was to gain strength and ease with repetition, then move in for the “kill.” Dustin yelled encouragement to her husband’s men, applauding as loudly as a saloon wench when first David and then Leeton sent their adversary to the ground. Caught up in the excitement, she stood up and stomped her feet and hollered until she realized she was making a fool of herself and, sheepishly, sat back down.
Edward and Dud were preparing to take the field when one of the soldiers assigned to her, respectfully and somewhat fearfully, told her that one of the puppies had slipped away, underneath the grandstand. In a panic, afraid the dog would hurt itself, she jumped up and ran down the wooden stairs, hunting frantically for the little dog. Usually the puppies yapped constantly, but she didn’t hear a sound as she nosed in and around the structure. The soldier who had informed her followed, concerned.
“Are you looking for this?” asked a pleasant, female voice.
Dustin looked up and saw the girl from the stands approaching her, a smile on her pretty face and clutching Alex in one hand. Dustin nodded and smiled timidly.
“Aye, I was,” she said. “Where did you find him?”
“He came over to me to where I was sitting,” she said, pointing up to the lists. “When I saw you leave in a hurry and bob around as if you were looking for something, I knew immediately what had happened.”
“Thank you for finding him,” Dustin said. “His name is Alexander.”
The girl rubbed noses with the pup just as Dustin did. “Hello, Alexander,” she said, then looked back up at Dustin. “My name is Gabrielle.”
Dustin nodded, feeling a bit nervous and shy; she didn’t make new friends very easily. “Dustin. Do you live here?”
“What a pretty name,” Gabrielle said. “And no, I do not live here. My husband is in the tournament tomorrow and we are leaving shortly after. What about you? Do you live here?”
“Not really,” Dustin said. “My husband is in the tournament tomorrow, too, but I believe we are staying on for a while.”
Gabrielle grinned. “I saw you cheering for your husband, am I to assume?”
Dustin nodded, smiling bashfully. “His men. This is the first tournament I have ever been to.”
“Truly?” Gabrielle put Alex down, for the puppy was wriggling endlessly. “This is only my second, but they are most exciting. Who is your husband?”
“Christopher de Lohr,” Dustin replied.
Gabrielle’s eyes widened a bit. “The Lion’s Claw? You are his wife?”
Dustin nodded, self-conscious with the star struck acknowledgement, but Gabrielle smiled broadly.
“My husband speaks very highly of him,” she said. “My husband is Lord de Havilland, Earl of Fenwark. He is jousting tomorrow, although the mere thought of it scares the wits from me. I begged him not to, but he insisted.”
“Why would you not want him to compete? ’Tis an honor,” Dustin said, scooping Alex up as he ran past.
Gabrielle shrugged, averting her open gaze for the first time. “Charles is….well, he is not as young as the other competitors. I am afraid he is going to be seriously injured.”
“If he is older than the others, then that should mean that he is more skillful because of his years of experience,” Dustin said. “Do not worry about him overly.”
Gabrielle smiled. “Mayhap,” she said. “Would you like to sit with me and my sister-in-law? We would enjoy your company.”
Dustin glanced back at her guard, preparing to decline, but not wanting to because she instantly liked Gabrielle. Why shouldn’t she have someone to talk to?
“Aye, I’d like that,” she replied, turning back to her guard. “Go and get the other puppies. I am going to sit with Lady de Havilland.”
The guard didn’t leave her until she was back up in the stands and seated beside Gabrielle and her sister-in-law, the earl’s sister, Isobelle. The older woman was homely and fat, but nice enough, and Dustin relaxed with Gabrielle’s easy manner. She was talking so much that she missed Edward, Dud, and Trent’s match. The next time she looked up, Christopher was taking the field opposite a man in beautifully sculptured armor. Her expression went soft.
“That’s Christopher,” she pointed him out to her friend.
Gabrielle nodded. “I know, I have seen him,” she said. “He is exquisitely handsome, don’t you think?” They all giggled and Gabrielle flushed pink. “Of course you think he is handsome because he is your husband. You are so lucky, Dustin. He is gorgeous.”
Dustin was alternately peacock-proud and jealous-green, but she smiled anyway. “I think so,” she said as she glanced over the field. “Point Charles out to me so that I might see what a handsome husband you have also.”
Gabrielle found her husband’s camp, flying green and white banners, and pointed. “He’s there, in the bright armor, the shorter one. See? He is inspecting a pole.”
Dustin squinted and nodded. “Aye, I see him, but I cannot see his face. You will have to introduce me to him later.”
“As you will have to introduce me to the great Lion Claw,” Gabrielle said.
In faith, Dustin never thought of Christopher in that context, but she nodded in agreement, turning her attention back to the field as the marshal started the match.
“Who is he fighting?” Dustin asked.
Gabrielle leaned toward her, studying the other knight. “That’s Lord Darby, I believe. This ought to be an interesting fight; the earl believes himself to be the best fighter in the realm.”
Dustin snorted. “Mayhap behind my husband and Marcus Burton he is, but that will remain to be seen.”
“I understand Marcus Burton is going to champion the prince tomorrow,” Gabrielle said.
Dustin shrugged. “He had an accident and will not be fighting. See him beyond the fence, with the bandage around his arm?”
Gabrielle did indeed. “Oh, the poor man. What happened?”
“I do not know,” Dustin replied truthfully.
The bout below was beginning. Lord Darby, a small man, believed himself to be quite clever and skilled and darted about the field in a frenzy. Christopher, a temperate man on the battlefield, paced himself and easily fought off the onslaught of blows. But it was like watching a large cat toy with a mouse; eventually the patient cat was going to win. The earl may have been faster, but Christopher was by far superior and Dustin watched with awe.
Gabrielle watched the expression on the face of her new friend and in spite of her sweet nature, she was deeply envious. She wished that she cared for her husband the way Lady Dustin obviously cared for hers. The light in the gray eyes spoke volumes of untold words and emot
ions. Although she had yet to see the baron with his wife, rumor had it that the feeling was mutual. Gazing at Lady Dustin’s obvious beauty, she could see why the man among men had broken down and married her.
The earl believed himself to be doing quite well when, in fact, he was barely holding his own. He would not acknowledge that he was getting tired and when he reached his threshold, he resorted to tricks to bring the baron down. He threw a heavy strike and feigned movement to the right instead, rolling quickly to the left, and then landed a heavy blow on Christopher’s shoulder and neck.
Dustin gasped and shot to her feet just as Christopher brought his broadsword around as fast as lightening and caught the earl on the side of the torso. The diminutive man went hurtling to the damp, dark earth.
“Let him have it, Chris,” Dustin hollered like a rowdy. “Take his bloody head off.”
As soon as she said it she remembered just who she was keeping company with and, chagrinned, she turned around to see their reaction. One look at Dustin’s sheepish face and Gabrielle and Isobelle broke into gales of laughter.
“Oh, Lady Dustin, you are a prize,” Gabrielle wiped her eyes. “I should like to yell like that, too, but I haven’t the nerve. I admire your spirit.”
Dustin didn’t know what to say. She grinned, embarrassed, and averted her gaze, seeking out her puppies who were roughhousing a few feet away.
Christopher had knocked the wind from the earl and the bout was declared over. Instead of returning to his camp, he turned for the lists and Dustin stood up, followed by Gabrielle and Lady Isobelle. When Christopher reached the platform, he beckoned his wife with a crooked finger.
“Who was it that was yelling at me like a serving wench at a cockfight?” he asked, unlatching his helmet and pulling it free of his sticky head.
“Who do you think?” Dustin grinned down at him. From where she was standing, his head was level with her thighs.
Broadsword and helmet in one hand, Christopher pulled his wife off the dais, hugging her around the knees as he carried her one-armed across the arena. Dustin squealed with delight, bracing her arms on his broad shoulders and waving goodbye to her new friends. He set her down when they had reached the safety of his camp.
“My puppies,” she insisted. “They are still over there.”
“They will be well watched,” he told her, glancing at the soldiers that were still under the awning. “Who were you talking to?”
He held out his arms to her and she removed his hauberk, glancing at the squire when he whisked it away.
“Lady Gabrielle de Havilland,” she said. “Her husband is the Earl of Fenwark. The other woman is the earl’s sister, the Lady Isobelle.”
“You will not speak with her anymore,” he said, holding up his arms while his squire unstrapped his sword.
“But why?” Dustin demanded earnestly. “I like her.”
Christopher didn’t reply until the sword and gauntlets were off. Then, he pulled his wife aside, under a young oak where they were allowed some privacy.
“Because her husband is very loyal to the prince,” he said quietly. “Did she ask you anything? What did you speak of?”
“Nay, she didn’t ask me anything in particular,” Dustin replied. “And we spoke of little things, really. The only thing she said in regard to the prince was that she heard Marcus would be championing him in the tournament tomorrow.”
“What did you say?” he pressed.
“That he was injured,” she answered, eyeing him. “We were having such a nice talk and she never pressed me for any information. Why can’t I be her friend? I do not have any friends in London.”
“There are plenty of other women you could become acquainted with,” he said. “But not her. You will stay away from Lady Gabrielle.”
Dustin crossed her arms stiffly and pouted. “I do not want to become acquainted with any other women. I like Lady Gabrielle and I do not care if her husband is bloody Lucifer himself. Why must you think that everyone is so subversive?”
“Because they are,” he said flatly. “Do not argue the point with me, Dustin.”
She frowned and leaned against the tree, ignoring him. He watched her for a moment before resting a big arm on an overhead branch and bending down to kiss his wife on the nose.
“Do not scowl like that,” he said softly, with a smile.
She stuck her tongue out at him for an answer and he laughed deep in his throat. “Careful, lady,” he cautioned. “One might consider that to be a proposition.”
She smiled faintly in spite of herself, but she was still frustrated. “I promised Lady Gabrielle that I would introduce her to you.”
“Out of the question,” he said without missing a beat, his gaze still soft on her.
Dustin felt herself melting with his look and decided to use it to her advantage, she knew she could not keep up the stiff front for much longer. Her arms wound around his neck and he hugged her close, although she pulled back when he tried to kiss her.
“Oh, why cannot we be friends? Why do not you at least meet her before you pass judgment,” she said, making sure she was very close but dodging his lips every time he moved for her. “She said you were handsome and gorgeous.”
“And she is correct,” he said, finally capturing her lower lip between his own. “But I will not meet her.”
“You are not fair, Chris,” she whispered as his lips suckled hers.
“Fair?” he whispered back, kissing her chin. “Fair is not having to watch over my wife every moment for fear that someone will harm her. Fair is trying my damnedest to keep you safe when others would see you come to tragedy. Not much in this life is fair, lady.”
“Lady Gabrielle would not harm me.” She was having a difficult time keeping her train of thought as his lips moved to her neck.
“Not another word, Dustin.” He said it so seductively she didn’t know if he meant Lady Gabrielle or just in general. To be safe, she shut up and let his mouth devour her throat and shoulders.
Behind them, someone cleared his throat loudly and Christopher’s head came up from the swell of her bosom, his expression less than tolerant. David’s expression was unwavering.
“John is in the stands,” he said.
“What’s he doing?” Christopher asked.
“Sitting with that woman Dustin was sitting with and fondling the puppies,” his brother replied.
“My puppies!” Dustin cried softly.
Christopher shushed her. “We shall go and get them,” he said evenly before returning his attention to his brother. “Where’s Marcus?”
“Talking to John,” David answered.
“Damn,” Christopher hissed.
Dustin followed her husband around the group of trees and back across the arena where the prince and Sir Ralph were indeed sitting with Lady Gabrielle and Lady Isobelle. Ralph had one of the puppies by the scruff of the neck, inspecting it carelessly, and Dustin had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling at the man. Even as they approached, she could see Marcus grabbing onto the remaining wandering pup and holding onto it for safekeeping.
“I shall thank you to hand over my wife’s pets,” Christopher said coolly, taking Harold from Marcus and handing him to Dustin.
The prince gazed disinterestedly at Christopher, still clutching Alex as he continued his conversation with the two ladies. Ralph, however, extended Cabal as if the animal were contaminated somehow.
“Common gutter beasts the pets of a noblewoman?” he said haughtily. “How distasteful.”
“Coming from another gutter beast, I am sure the pups are not offended,” Dustin snapped, her gray eyes glittering. “Give me my dog.”
Ralph smiled narrowly, still holding the crying pup away from him. “You know, baron, I am considering competing in the games tomorrow,” he said casually. “I have not yet practiced. Do you think I have lost my competitive edge lounging around the castle for the past several months? I sincerely hope not, but I wonder just the same. Mayhap I should fin
d out.”
With that, he suddenly tossed the little pup into the air and withdrew his sword in the blink of an eye. Before anyone could stop him, the sword arced upward in a flash of blinding metal and sliced the puppy in two clean halves, blood splattering on the floor and onto the sheriff. The two puppy parts thudded like wet balls onto the wooden floor of the lists.
Dustin screamed and turned away sharply, burying her face in the first available body which happened to be Marcus’. Christopher bound up onto the platform and had Ralph by the throat, his huge fist driving into the man’s face like a hammer into soft metal. The prince yelped at being jostled and dropped Alexander, and the two women next to him screamed horrifically and covered their eyes.
All of Christopher’s knights, save Marcus, jumped onto the stands but no one attempted to stop Christopher from beating Ralph’s brains in. In fact, there were several dozen soldiers witnessing the entire brawl and no one made a move to intervene. John, seeing that his cohort was receiving a heavy thrashing, began spouting off to any soldier he made eye contact with to restrain the baron, but he was blatantly disobeyed. Frustrated, he took to jumping Christopher himself and found himself bridled by David and Leeton.
Christopher had reached his limit with Ralph. He didn’t kill him when he took his wife the day she arrived, although he should have, and he didn’t kill him when he pressured and threatened Marcus, but he should have done something. Every blow had Dustin’s or Marcus’ or name on it and after pounding the man senseless, he threw him over the side of the lists to the cold earth below.
Ralph wallowed around aimlessly, trying to stand but not knowing which way was up. Christopher descended the short flight of wooden stairs, stalking the sheriff like a lion for a kill. Ralph saw him coming and struggled to his feet, throwing an off-balance punch that Christopher easily subdued before driving his fist into the Ralphs’ gut and the man collapsed on the dirt.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 41