Rise of the Defender (117 page)

     Oddly enough, the tension had drained out
of the room. Now there were only men trying to understand the position of each
other. But Marcus wasn't leaving without Dustin, David or no David.

     “She is going with me,” he told David
firmly. “If I have to cut through you and every other man here, she is going
with me back to Somerhill and I am going to marry her. I do not care if you
approve or not, David. It is not up to you.”

     David had been very calm until Marcus'
reply, which sounded suspiciously like a challenge. He stiffened in his chair.

     “I am not surprised,” he snarled. “Hell,
you tried everything in your power to take her away from my brother. Why should
not I think you would kill me to get to her?”

     He bolted to his feet and Marcus bolted to
his feet. Marcus' knights followed suit, as did Christopher's until Richard was
shouting above the clanging of armor and the unsheathing of swords to restore
order.

     “Sit down, all of you.” he roared.
“Damnation, sit down or I shall have you all thrown in irons. David, sheath
that damn sword or I shall shove it down your throat.”

     The king was furious. Marcus stepped back
from the table angrily, his chair toppling over as he paced aimlessly toward
the hearth. The other knights obeyed their king, taking their seats again,
except for David and Philip. Philip was trying to calm his nephew down, coaxing
him back to his seat.

     Dustin couldn’t take it anymore. She was
already emotionally brittle and spiritually spent and her breaking point was
low. She stood up, marching over to her brother-in-law.

     “You do not own me, David.” she snapped. “I
must decide what is best for me, not you. I hate it that you are constantly
fighting with Marcus. You used to be the best of friends before I came along, I
know. Edward told me that you and Chris and Marcus were inseparable. And now
you are ready to kill him. I cannot take your hostilities any longer.”

     “I am thinking of your best interests,
Dustin,” David said.  “You are still grieving, for God's sake.  I do not want
you making a quick decision you will regret.”

     “But it is
my
decision.” she fired
back. “Let me make my own mistakes, David. Let me live my own life, which
happens to be a life without your brother.” She spun around, gesturing to the
heavens of the great hall. “This place is my home, my wonderful home until a
year ago. Ever since then, I have seen the pinnacles of joy and the very depths
of grief here. My family has lived here for five generations, but do you know
that when I look at dining table, I only see Christopher sitting at the head?
And 'tis only him I see mounting the stairs to our bedchamber, or stoking the
hearth because I am cold. David, the man lived here slightly over a year, yet
he left his mark as indelibly as if he had lived here one hundred years. With
every turn, with every flash of light, I see only him and I am haunted.”

     She suddenly realized she was giving this
speech for every man present, opening up her soul as she hadn't opened it up
for anyone. The fire crackled in the hearth as she took a cleansing breath and
faced off against David and Marcus.

     “I do not want to leave Lioncross,” she
said softly. “This is my home; it is Chris' home. But sometimes I feel as if I
will go mad if I stay here a moment longer. Marcus is well aware of my feelings
on the matter, and I accept his offer to go with him to his keep because I believe
I need the change. I shall return to Lioncross, someday, mayhap as Lady de
Lohr, mayhap as Lady Burton. But it is my decision to make and my life to live.
I have to do what is best for Christin and best for me.”

     David was clearly torn after her speech.
“But why with him, Dustin?”

     “Why not?” she asked him deliberately. “Why
on earth not, David? Surely you do not want me; you have Emilie. And I will not
go with your uncle to Lohrham Forest for the man doesn't need me banging about
there. Why is it so hard for you to let me leave this place? You are making a
difficult decision even harder.”

     David was slipping. “Because...oh, hell,
Dustin, I do not know. I cannot think on it anymore; I suppose I cannot fight
you anymore. If you truly want to go, the truth is that I cannot stop you.”

     “Good,” Dustin breathed, satisfied. Still,
she could see the pain in his expression and it saddened her. “I appreciate
your concern as my husband's brother, but you must let me do what I think is
best.”

     David gave up in that moment. There was
nothing more to fight and nothing more to say. He stared at Dustin for several
long moments before walking to her, pulling her head against his lips and
kissing her hair.

     “Be happy, then,” he whispered. “He would
want you to be.”

     He left the hall, ascending the stairs
wearily to his bedchamber. Dustin visibly relaxed, her gaze moving to Marcus
where he stood handsome and strong by the hearth. He smiled weakly at her but
she did not respond, instead, facing against Richard.

     “If you shall excuse me, sire, I shall be
retiring,” she said quietly.

     Richard nodded faintly and Dustin curtsied,
quitting the hall and going the same path of David to the second story. Only
when she was in her bedchamber, the chamber she had shared with Christopher,
did she let her guard down. She lay heavily on his side of the bed, on the
linens she hadn't changed since he had left because she could still smell his
musk in the sheets. Inhaling deeply, she again smelled the faint scent and it
brought tears to her eyes.

     With a ragged sigh, she lay her cheek on
his pillow and let her mind wander to happier days.

***

     Marcus could not sleep that night. He found
himself wandering the halls of Lioncross, feeling Christopher's presence like a
ghost, following him everywhere. He paced the second floor completely, made his
rounds on the third floor, and then found himself down on the ground floor, not
even aware of his wandering because he was so deeply lost in thought.

     Was he pushing Dustin to do something she
did not want to do? Had he taken advantage of her weakened state for his own
selfish reasons? Clearly, he was, but he was afraid if he did not take her now,
then she would never go with him. She was an heiress and valuable to Richard as
a commodity, and Marcus was deathly afraid if he did not marry her now, then
Richard would find a husband for her to somehow strengthen his empire. He had
to press his advantage now, while there was time. If he allowed her time to
grieve and recover, then his chance might be past. And he could not stand the
thought of Dustin in someone else's arms.

     He found himself in the abbey. Curious for
the first time of his surroundings, he glanced about the dark, forbidden place
and wondered how in the hell he got there. As he turned to remount the stairs,
there was an unmistakable ring of a sword as it was being unsheathed from its
scabbard.

     Marcus stiffened, not particularly
surprised to see David looming several steps above him, a sword in his hand.

     “I am unarmed, David,” Marcus said quietly.

     A sword suddenly landed at his feet with a
clatter. “Not anymore,” David replied. “Here and now, Marcus. We will end this
here and now.”

     Marcus did not move for his sword just yet.
“Why do you hate me so much, David? We used to be best friends. Is it truly
Dustin, or is it something else I have done?”

     “You changed, Marcus,” David said in a low
voice. “You coveted my brother's wife.  You shamelessly pursued her and
embarrassed yourself and the de Lohr name. You showed no restraint or control
whatsoever. It was as if you would stop at nothing to have her, and even though
Christopher overlooked it, I was deeply offended. And now, I am going to do
what my brother should have done all along.”

     “Kill me?” Marcus said with raised brows.
“Your devotion to your brother is touching, David, but do you truly think my
“pursuit”, as you call it, is worth taking my life?”

     David lowered his sword a bit, taking a
step. “Then let's see it from a different angle, Marcus,” he said. “Let's
assume that it was you who married Dustin, and Christopher who was so madly
consumed with her that he was not shy about his feelings in the least. Let's
say that he kissed Dustin, your wife, and tried to hide the fact. Let's say
that he was with her always, never actually voicing his feelings, but not
having to because they were written all over his face. Let's say that he was so
relentless that everyone began spreading rumors, but he did not care. He looked
like a fool, you looked like a fool, and Dustin looked to be nothing short of a
whore. Now, how would you react to such a thing?”

     Marcus' face was dark. “I was never like
that, David. I admitted my infatuation to Chris and banked it well. I was never
shameless in my pursuit of Dustin until now.”

     David smiled thinly. “It hurts, doesn't it?
If the situation was reversed, then you most certainly would not have been as
forgiving as Christopher was. He overlooked everything you did because of his
love and respect for you, and it made him look like an idiot. Now ask me again
- why do I want to see justice served?”

     Marcus inhaled deeply and looked to the
ground where his sword was. Slowly, he reached down and picked it up.

     “You won't kill me, you know,” he said
quietly. “I shall disembowel you first.”

     David shrugged faintly. “Tell me one thing,
Marcus,” he muttered. “Did you bed her?”

     Marcus lifted his sword, examining the
blade in the faint torchlight. “Does it matter?”

     “Not really. Whether or not you did it
physically, you have already done it in your mind a thousand times,” David replied.
“I was simply curious to know if you indeed followed through with your desires
and if she responded.”

     Marcus was focused on the ridge of his
blade. “It is none of your business.”

     A bolt of fury shot though David at the
evasive answer. “Then you just answered my question.”

     Marcus glanced up at him, cocking a black
eyebrow. “I did. I told you it was none of your affair, which it isn't. What
goes on between Dustin and me isn't anyone’s concern.”

     David's nostrils flared angrily. “Then I
was right all along; she was your whore. And Christin? She's your daughter.”

     Marcus kept his calm. “Dustin was never,
ever my whore, David. And Christin is Chris’ daughter.”

     “Did you bed her?” David roared,
enunciating each word and they reverberated off the thick abbey walls.

     Marcus raised his sword slowly, moving it
into a defensive position. “I did.”

     David was actually stumped at the short,
precise answer. He had expected more denials, more maneuvering. But his shock
was gone in a second, his fury returning tenfold.

     “You bloody bastard,” he growled. “You
filthy son of a bitch. How could you do that to Chris? He trusted you,
goddammit.
He trusted you!”

     Marcus could see David's pain more than his
anger, and his own pain surfaced as well. “It wasn't that simple, David. When
it happened… Dustin did not even know it was me. She thought I was Chris and
she took me into her bed,” his voice was a whisper. “I am a weak man, David,
not at all as perfect as our Defender was. I could have stopped it, but I did
not. I wanted to. Aye, I freely admit it to you. I took advantage of the
situation. Never blame Dustin, David, for she thought I was her husband. Are
you satisfied now that you have a confession? I have simply given you more
reason to kill me.”

     David raised his sword, fighting back his
considerable anger. If he lashed out and tired himself at the beginning, then
Marcus would show no mercy and finish him off in his fatigue.

     “I do not blame her,” he said. “I have
never blamed her. She's young and impressionable. But I fully blame you.”

     “As you should,” Marcus gripped his sword
with two hands on the hilt, preparing for the first strike. “You may try to
kill me if you think you must, David. I am ready.”

     David did not reply. Instead, he came
hurtling down from the stairs and met Marcus with the force of his fury. Metal
met on metal, screaming at the pressure and sparks flew into the damp air of
the abbey.

     Marcus was fully prepared for the
onslaught, and for David’s fury. A whole year of anger and resentment and
jealousy was releasing itself. David was faster than any man alive with a
sword, but he could be reckless. Marcus, however, was far more controlled and
more powerful than his opponent. It was dark in the abbey, working to neither
man's advantage as they plowed their way through pieces of old furniture and
bounced off the walls.

     David tripped at one point and staggered
against the stone wall, narrowly averting being decapitated by Marcus as the
big man descended on him with all of his might. The clang of broadsword against
broadsword echoed loudly and roused a few servants, instantly panicked at the
fight in the abbey and Richard was awoken from a deep sleep.