Richard saw them off, begging the privilege of staying on at Lioncross a few more days to rest before returning to Windsor and the troubles that awaited him there. Dustin was happy to comply, and Edward was the perfect host. They had spoken privately earlier about her future plans and Edward assured her that Lioncross would still be standing should she ever choose to return. It was a bittersweet goodbye between them, for Edward seemed to be the last of Christopher’s knights who hadn’t been affected by everything that had happened.
As she left the gates, Harold came racing up beside her, barking furiously. Dustin almost went to pieces. Harold had not accompanied Christopher on his fateful mission because the dog had been ill after killing and eating a whole chicken. Christopher had been sorry not to have his mascot and as Dustin looked down at the dog, all she could think about was her husband falling and dying in battle without his dog there to comfort him. Hot tears fell on the breast of her cloak as she tried to reason with Harold to stay behind. He belonged at Lioncross, if for no other reason than to protect Christopher’s phantom. She truly believed the dog belonged there.
Harold, remarkably, stopped at the gate and sat down, still barking and wagging his tail as Dustin continued on. She watched the little mongrel for a few moments, still waiting for him to follow and pleased when he did not. Mayhap all of his barking was not asking to accompany her; it was asking her to stay. Dashing away the remainder of her tears, she turned forward and found Marcus smiling at her. She gave him a small smile and lowered her gaze.
Her last glimpse of Lioncross as they crested the hill and turned north was amazingly clear and bright. The sun was out and the snow had melted, cleaning everything and making the world fresh and new. Her heart lurched with longing and grief, but Marcus reached out and touched her arm, murmuring encouraging words. With a resigned sigh, Dustin turned her back on Christopher’s home. She never looked back.
They stopped for the night and made camp. Marcus and Sir Thomas Dudley, or “Dud” from their London days, rigged up an excellent tent using the bed of the wagon for a bed. Christin was asleep next to the wet nurse as soon as Dustin lay her down. Marcus and Dustin then shared a quiet supper later that evening as his men rigged several tarpaulins to keep the moisture away through the night. Dustin wondered if Marcus expected her to sleep with him.
She was not surprised to learn that he did expect them to sleep together, giving her a myriad of sound reasons as to why she should not sleep alone. Dustin begged off politely, saying she would rather sleep in the wagon with her daughter. She could see that Marcus was disappointed, but he graciously backed off and made sure she was given the very best and thickest blankets. The knights retired for the night, as did the men-at-arms, and the camp quieted rapidly, leaving Dustin and Marcus alone by the camp fire.
“Well, I am rather tired,” she said softly. “I would retire now. Goodnight, Marcus.”
“Dustin,” he said quickly, pausing almost uncomfortably when she turned around and looked at him. “Are you quite sure… I mean, the tent would be less crowded and….”
Dustin smiled faintly, shaking her head. “Thank you, but no,” she replied, seeing that he truly was disappointed. She understood his feelings, but he had to understand hers. “Marcus, I am simply not ready for you. Your presence is comforting and I am grateful for your generosity toward Christin and myself, but I am simply not ready for your affections.”
He kicked at the ground a moment, embarrassed at his eagerness. “Is it that obvious? I am sorry, Dustin. I am not trying to push you.”
She walked over to him, putting her hand on his arm. “I know you are not, but you are nonetheless. Give me time, Marcus. I need time to heal.”
He took her hand and put her palm to his scratchy cheek, his cobalt-blue eyes soft. “I know you do. And I want to help you, if I can. Dustin, I do so want to be close to you. I have always wanted to be close to you.”
She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “You are pushing again.”
He pretended to slap himself in the head. “Old habits die hard. Well, let’s get you to bed.”
He took her arm and started to lead her toward the wagon when she suddenly stopped. She reconsidered sleeping with him for a split second and the thought of massive, strong arms around her and a warm body to snuggle against was very inviting. Lord, it had been so long since Christopher had held her and there was a huge void inside her wishing to be held and comforted. Marcus understood she was not giving him permission to ravage her, and she was confident he would not. But lying in his arms, she might even be strong enough to pretend it was Christopher; just for a moment.
“I think you are right,” she turned her face up to him.
“About what?”
“Sleeping under your protection. Plus, the wagon is crowded. I will probably not sleep at all with the baby snoring and the dogs in my face.”
He looked surprised. “Are you sure?”
She nodded slowly. “Aye, I am.”
Snuggled against Marcus was a thoroughly cleansing experience, cleansing in that it helped dash some of her doubts and fears about her future. She could close her eyes and feel his strength and it helped her a great deal. But as she lay in his arms, she was equally sure of one thing; she could never love Marcus Burton. She could be fond of him, bear his children even, but she could never love him. Her love would always and forever be Christopher’s.
*
The rest of the trip was uneventful, even if the weather was miserable. After the first night they slept in each other’s arms, Dustin found that her wall was up with him. Sleeping in his arms was well enough, but he wanted more and she wasn’t willing to give more. So Dustin kept her wall up between her and Marcus, and the more her mind cleared, the more she wondered just what in the hell she was doing with him.
The plan to go to Somerhill had seemed so positive from the beginning and she was sure that a change of scenery would be the best thing for her, but as her wits returned, she missed Lioncross terribly. With each mile passed, she regretted her decision more and more and was forced to admit that David and Edward may have been right. She had acted in haste, wanting some sort of relief from her grief but not knowing what, and she took the first opportunity that arose.
But she would not return home, at least not immediately. Give Marcus a chance, she told herself. Mayhap he can at least bring a ray of joy back into your life if you will only let him. With the shock of Christopher’s death wearing off, and the return of normalcy to her character in sight, Dustin realized that the rest of her life was to be a very gray, bitter thing. The only person who could possibly give her any happiness was Marcus Burton.
The very last day before they reached Somerhill dawned gray and foggy and heavy with mist. Christin had been up all night long cutting a new tooth and Dustin was exhausted, even though Marcus had spoiled her for a few hours. Her fatigue, coupled with the constant travel, had upset her stomach terribly.
She coaxed a few bites of breakfast down, hoping to calm her jitters, but everything she ate came right back up again and she felt worse than before. Marcus was gravely concerned for her and insisted they rest for the day, but she insisted more firmly that they continue. Two hundred men-at-arms and six knights were eager to return to their keep, not to mention Dustin and Marcus and the rest of them. She would not halt progress due to her nervous stomach.
Pale and sick, Marcus loaded her up onto Hercules with great hesitation. He wanted her to ride with him, but she waved him off. She would ride to Somerhill alone.
She was truly miserable. Hercules had a smooth gate, but the very rocking motion worsened her condition. The constant taste of bile coated her mouth and all she wanted to do was lay down and sleep for a week. In fact, her breasts ached terribly with each jostle of the horse and her stomach wasn’t only upset, it was sore as well. She could only remember feeling this badly once in her life, when she was first pregnant with Christin, and….
Dustin forgot all about her churning stomach and h
er shaking hands. In that instant, all of the clues came into focus and she realized with an explosion of jubilation that she was pregnant again.
Her hand flew to her abdomen, trying to remember when she had her last menses and she could not. In fact, she hadn’t had her cycle since she conceived Christin and she was nearly wild with excitement. Thank you, God! She cried silently, over and over again, singing it in her heart and soul until tears of joy filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She dashed them away, wanting her moment of happiness to be a private one for now. If Marcus saw her tears, he would demand to know why she was crying and she did not feel like sharing her secret with him yet. This was her personal moment to share with her deceased husband, wherever he might be. As much as Christopher had loved Christin, she knew he would be absolutely ecstatic with another child. Another legacy.
Dustin blinked back more happy tears as she touched her stomach gently. She knew without a doubt ’twas a son she carried beneath her heart.
*
Somerhill was a lovely place. As lovely as Lioncross was. Somerhill was magnificent and well kept, and Dustin knew Marcus was responsible for the condition of the keep. It sat on a rise overlooking the river and protected a fairly large village. Even as they rode into town, peasants turned out to greet Marcus, and Dustin was impressed with the respect the man had earned from his people. Christopher hadn’t had the time to mingle much with his vassals since the majority of his time had been spent away from Lioncross, but Marcus had had ample time to get to know his people considering he had been holed up in the structure for nearly a year.
Women handed Dustin several bouquets of new spring flowers and she buried her nose in them, inhaling their heady fragrance. The world around them was thawing in the early spring and Dustin’s mood was lightened. A new baby, a new world, and a new keep that loomed before her against the late afternoon sky.
“Marcus, it is beautiful,” she remarked.
He reined his white steed close to her. “Do you like it? I am rather proud of it. It’s not as massive as Lioncross, but I like it.”
“Oh, no, it is much taller than Lioncross,” Dustin said, indicating the two massive towers that stretched heavenward. “We do not have any towers.”
The gates were already open and Marcus’ men were greeting him home with shouts and waves. The party entered into the outer bailey, for there were two, and Marcus’ knights began disbanding the army and ordered the wagons unloaded. The bailey quickly turned into a rushing mass of people, all moving about their assigned tasks. Dustin simply sat high atop Hercules, absorbing it all.
Marcus was then beside her, holding up his arms to help her. With a smile that she truly felt this time, she slid into his arms and he lowered her gently to the ground.
“I hope you shall be happy here, honey,” he said softly. “I have come to love it a great deal.”
She patted his arm reassuringly. “I can see why. It is a beautiful place.” She only remarked on the latter of his statement.
Marcus did not let her go for a moment and Dustin felt a distinct pull between them; those cobalt-blue eyes were captivating. She remembered the very first time she ever looked into them, she had felt the exact same pull. She knew it would be very easy to love Marcus, but she could not let herself. She only loved Christopher, and the thought of even considering loving Marcus brought floods of guilt.
Clearing her throat, she stepped back as Sir Stephen Marion brought Christin over to them. Her daughter was wrapped in enough wool and fur to keep several peasant children cozy and looked as round as a fat, ripe melon. Her sweet cherub face was the only thing visible, but the wrappings waved wildly when she saw her mother.
“Hello, sweet pea.” Marcus touched the babe’s cheek as she was placed in her mother’s arms. “Jesus, Dustin, unwrap that babe or she will suffocate.”
Dustin grinned, indeed taking off the outer layer of clothing. “The wet nurse is fearful she will catch cold this far north.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Bundled like that, she is going to sweat to death first.” He turned to Sir Stephen. “Tell Dud we have gone inside and help him with Lady Dustin’s belongings. They will go in the chamber next to mine. And ask Iris which room the baby and the wet nurse are to be housed.”
Stephen, a very handsome blond man that reminded Dustin a good deal of David, saluted smartly and was gone.
“Who’s Iris?” Dustin asked.
“My chatelaine,” he replied. “But I am sure with you here, I will not be needing her services any longer.”
“Marcus, keep the woman,” Dustin insisted. “I am a terrible chatelaine.”
He took her arm and turned her toward the inner bailey. “You are not. Lioncross is the best run keep I have ever seen.”
“Thanks to Gowen and Edward,” she told him. “Surely you saw that they were in charge, and not me.”
He shrugged. “I assumed that was because you had been grief-stricken for so long that they had voluntarily taken over your duties.”
Dustin shook her head. “Obviously, you know nothing about me,” she said lightly. “In hindsight, I suppose I should blame my parents for not insisting that I learn things all young ladies should learn, but they let me do whatever I pleased. I hated dancing, sewing, managing a household, all the things that well-bred young women needed to learn. I did learn to do needlepoint and paint because my mother absolutely insisted. But most of the time, I ran with the peasant boys and learned to ride and hunt and fish. Do you know that I can build a boat, and raise a hut in a mere few hours? Certainly not things required by a chatelaine.”
He grinned, noticing the looks from his men as he brought her into the inner bailey. They were looking at Dustin as if she were the goddess Aphrodite on his arm.
“So you can build?” he said. “Impressive. What else can you do?”
She warmed to the pleasant mood. “I can fight, but, of course, you already know that.”
He raised a black eyebrow reprovingly. “I have no firsthand knowledge of it, but I have seen you. Were you any taller, I would take you into battle with me.”
She laughed and his heart skipped a beat. It was so good to see her laugh.
“I would be your very best knight, too, and you know it.” When he shrugged in agreement, she continued. “My father taught me to read and write, and I can do mathematics and debate philosophy. Father was proud of my accomplishments, even though they were not the usual accomplishments of noble ladies.”
Marcus wriggled his eyebrows. “True enough, but you are not a usual noble lady,” he replied as they mounted the low step that led into his keep. He stopped her there, focusing on her beautiful face. “Truly, Dustin, I want you to be happy here. I am well aware of your feelings and your fears, and I promise I shall do naught to antagonize you. But you know my feelings, too, and I am not usually a patient man. But I shall be with you, I promise.”
He kissed her free hand sweetly and she felt her wall going down just a bit. His manner was gentle and she liked that.
“Thank you, Marcus,” she said softly. “I appreciate everything you have done for Christin and myself, and in spite of what David and Edward think, I believe Christopher would approve.”
Marcus nodded his head chivalrously in thanks just as a big, bosomy woman with a tall white bun on her head appeared at the door.
“Great Walls of Jericho!” she roared. “Is this your Lady Dustin, Marcus? Get her in here before she and that babe catch their death of chill.”
Dustin looked at the woman with surprise as a fat hand shot out and hustled her inside. Marcus, with a quirky grin on his face, followed close on her heels.
In the warm, dim entryway, the woman put up a tremendous fuss over Christin, and Dustin wasn’t sure if she should protect her child or hand her over. Obviously, this was Iris.
“You never said we were going to have a babe in the house,” Iris scolded Marcus, then turned sweetly to Christin. “Oh, Marcus, she is beautiful. I cannot remember when there wa
s a babe in the keep last. What is her name?”
“Christin,” Dustin replied. “And she’s cutting teeth, so beware.”
“Teeth!” Iris said it as if it were the most wonderful thing on earth. “I shall give her a bone to chew on. That will take care of her teeth.”
Dustin could not help grinning as she glanced at Marcus, and he returned her expression. Iris was holding out her hands expectantly.
“Give me the sweet little peapod and I shall take care of her,” the old woman begged firmly. “You, my lady, look as if you could use a bath and some rest. Sara is upstairs filling a tub for you already.”
Dustin looked uncertain; but Marcus smiled. “Thank you, Iris. My lady could indeed use the rest.”
Reluctantly, Dustin handed Christin over to the woman and the housekeeper immediately began crooning and singing to the babe, her manner gentle as one has to be around infants. Marcus watched Dustin’s face as Iris took Christin away.
“Do not look like that,” he said softly. “She has six children of her own and is quite competent. She will see that Christin is bathed and fed.”
“But I wanted to do it,” Dustin lamented.
“And you shall, starting tomorrow,” he told her firmly. “You need to relax and collect yourself. Christin is in good hands, I promise.”
She gave him a doubtful raise of the eyebrows and he took her arm, leading her up a flight of stone stairs that clung to a massive wall and opened up onto the second floor. At the very end of the corridor, he took her into a spacious bedchamber with the biggest bed she had ever seen in the middle of it. Over near a great carved fireplace was a large copper tub, and the girl that was busying herself next to it stopped abruptly and curtsied.
“My lady, I am Sara,” she said rather boldly. “Your bath is ready.”
Dustin eyed the room before her gaze fell on the servant. She was about her own age with bright red hair and a long face. Marcus was focused on Dustin’s beautiful face as she absorbed the room, the new sights and atmosphere. He fully realized he had both hands on her protectively, although Dustin wasn’t even aware of it.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 83