Rise of the Defender (18 page)

     “Why did you let him stay?” he asked.

     Christopher glanced at Jeffrey before
returning his gaze to Max and Anthony. “We can use all of the knights
available,” he replied. “I should like to see him fight the winner of this match.”

     His brother did not truly answer his
question, and David was more curious than ever. Interrogation of Jeffrey
earlier had given him no clues, either.

     “Chris, I thought you were intent on seeing
this man leave,” he said again. “Why is he still here?”

     “Do you want him gone?” Christopher asked.

     “I care not,” David answered, watching Max
land a particularly heavy blow on his brother. “But you do not like him; that
is apparent. Especially in lieu of the blow you landed him this morning.”

     Christopher sighed, clearing his throat. “I
struck him because he touched my wife, and he knew it,” he replied. “And it is
not a matter of whether or not I like the man, but I understand him better now.
We had a most productive talk this morning, which is why I let him stay.”

     David frowned wryly. “He didn’t touch your
wife, he was merely helping her with her dress.”

     Christopher’s head snapped to his brother. “No
one touches Dustin but me,” he said sharply. “I will not have my wife being
handled by my knights, for any reason.”

     David cocked an eyebrow. “What about me?
Would you have slugged me, too?”

     “You are different, David,” Christopher
turned away irritably.

     “How so? I am your knight,” his brother
persisted.

     “But you are my brother, and her
brother-in-law,” Christopher replied, as if David were daft. ‘Tis different for
you to touch her. Why are you arguing this point with me?”

     “I am not,” David gave him a long look. “It’s
just well, for a man who did not want a wife, you are being damn protective of
this woman whom you married.”

     “What am I supposed to do, David?”
Christopher replied, fully irritated now. “I married her, and I am obligated to
protect her. Would you have me ignore her, allow her to do anything she wants
with anyone she pleases? Would you have me care so little for the de Lohr name
that I would pretend my legal wife did not exist?”

     “I am not questioning your honor, calm down.”
David crossed his arms, watching Anthony trip over his own feet and nearly get
clobbered by his brother. “It’s just that I am starting to see more to this
relationship than you are admitting.”

     Christopher looked at him with contempt. “You
are mad, David, and I will hear no more. Lady Dustin is my wife, in name only.
That's it.”

     David snorted a reply, causing his brother
to grind his jaw. They watched the de Velt twins wind down their match in
silence and Christopher motioned to Jeffrey across the arena. Without any
words, Jeffrey knew what was expected of him and eagerly complied. It had been
a long time since he had tested his skills on knights as fine as these.

     Christopher watched the massively wide man
take on Max, noticing immediately that Jeffrey wasn’t particularly graceful,
but he was as strong as an ox and any blow he landed to Max sent the man
reeling. He became engrossed in the fight, forgetting his irritation with his
brother and studying the ex-captain's skills. It didn't take long for him to
discern that Jeffrey was very, very good.

     He called a halt and the two men immediately
stopped, facing him as he crossed over to them.

     “Take a rest, Max,” he instructed his
knight. “I will finish your bout.”

     David tossed him his helmet and he latched
it on, lowering the visor and drawing his sword from his scabbard. Jeffrey,
seeing Christopher was moving into a defensive stance, immediately did the same.

     “Let’s see how good you truly are,”
Christopher said in a low voice.

     Beneath his lowered faceplate, Jeffrey
grinned. “A pleasure, my lord.”

     From her second story window, Dustin could
see the battle taking place below. She had been watching for some time, having
heard the first blows and her interest was piqued. She did not feel like leaving
her room, being fatigued or the fact she was still wallowing in self-pity, she
didn’t know. But she and Caesar had been holed up playing with a little wooden
ball and working on a half-finished piece of needlepoint.

     There were so many other things she could
be doing, like trying to retrieve the baby birds she had tried to save two days
ago, but she knew in her heart that they were probably dead and she was
saddened. She could also be out tending her rabbits, or seeing to the small
flower garden her mother had loved so well. Aye, so many things she could be
doing, but she simply didn't have the energy. Rather, she would watch the
knights take practice on each other from a nice, safe distance.

     She saw Christopher taking on Jeffrey,
wondering if the match were only for practice or if indeed her husband intended
to kill the man. With rising concern, she wondered if he was setting out to finish
what he had started that morn. Forgetting the fact that she planned to be a
hermit this day, she set the needlepoint down and intended to see for herself.

     Although she wore the lavender dress, Christopher
had yet to see it, as he had requested. Dustin was very pleased with the surcoat
for Rebecca had done an outstanding job. It was very snug in the bodice with a
plunging neckline, long trailing sleeves, and a full, voluminous skirt.

     Dustin had pulled the front of her hair
back and secured it to the crown of her head with her ivory clip, revealing her
heart-shaped face. She usually kept her hair down because she thought her ears
stuck out, but she had pulled it back when she had donned the dress to keep it
out of her face and had simply forgotten to remove the clip. It was the one
piece of jewelry or adornment she owned, and it had been a gift from her father.
She only kept it because it had been a useful gift, but true to her nature, she
hated fancy, feminine things of any kind.

     All lavender silk and thigh-length blond
hair, part of which was piled on top of her head, she dashed out of the castle
and headed for the arena.

     The field was surrounded by soldiers as she
came up, slowing her pace and craning her neck to catch a better glimpse. She
could hear metal slamming on metal and grunts of effort, but she could see
nothing. Frustrated, she looked for higher ground. A few feet away was a log.
Close to five feet tall and probably three feet in diameter, it was used for
various practice drills and she knew she could have a bird’s eye view if she
could stand atop it. As good at climbing as she was, she managed to hoist
herself up without so much as dirtying her dress, and stood her full height a
bit unsteadily, her eyes riveted to the arena.

     Christopher and Jeffrey were delivering
blows so hard it made her body hurt just watching them. She assumed that if
Christopher was going to kill Jeffrey, he would have done so by now, so the men
must simply be testing each other. She knew that knights liked to prove
themselves constantly.

     She'd seen Jeffrey fight before and knew he
had great strength, but she’d never seen her husband fight before and felt that
familiar giddy warmth settle over her. His prowess was unmatched as he dealt
Jeffrey blow after heavy blow, and the grace with which he lifted his massive
sword unparalleled. It seemed to her that to every five or six of offensive
blows, Jeffrey could only return one or two and spent the rest of his time
defending himself. She was amazed at Christopher’s pure skill and precision,
like Caesar toying with a mouse. It was obvious, even to her, that Christopher
was far superior in strength and talent.

     Jeffrey, however, was holding his own until
he took a step backwards and tripped, landing heavily in his armor. Christopher
was on him in an instant, the tip of his sword against the big German’s neck.

     Jeffrey let his sword fall from his grip
and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. “I concede, my lord.”

     After a moment, Christopher removed his
sword and stood back, extending a hand to help the man to his feet. “You fight
well, Jeffrey.”

     Jeffrey raised his visor and grinned. “Not
as well as you, my lord. I had heard rumor that the savages called you the Lion’s
Claw and now I know why.”

     Christopher sheathed his sword and went to
unlatch his helmet, but not before catching sight of Dustin standing atop the pole.
She wasn’t hard to miss in the bright color, perched like some exotic, beautiful
bird quite comfortably atop the log, watching him.

     He pulled off his helmet and tossed it in
the direction of his men. “What are you doing up there?” he called to her.

     “I came to watch,” she answered.

     The crowd surrounding the field parted as he
walked through them toward her, his hands on his hips. “Did you climb up there all
by yourself?”

     “Of course.” she answered the obvious.

     He shook his head and glanced at his
brother, who was grinning up at her with delight. He turned back to his wife.

     “Come down from there,” he motioned sternly.

     She squatted and was preparing to slip down
when he waved her off. “Nay, do not climb down and risk that dress,” he stood
next to the pole and held out his arms. “Jump and I shall catch you.”

     Without hesitation, she did, and landed
easily in his arms. His hands instinctively tightened about her, and her arms
grabbed hold of his neck for support, bringing their two faces very, very close.
She kept waiting for him to set her down, but he didn’t.

     “So you like to watch swordfights?” he
asked, feeling rather giddy at her closeness.

     She shrugged, feeling the same giddiness he
was. “Sometimes,” she replied. “Truthfully, I thought you were still mad at
Jeffrey and were planning to kill him.”

     He cracked a faint smile. “And you thought
to stop me?”

     She looked away. “I would have tried.”

     He chuckled then. “You are brave, my lady.”

     She didn’t answer him as David and Edward
and the other knights approached, all appraising her quite openly.

     “I see that all of the humiliation and
trouble we went through was well worth it, Lady de Lohr,” David remarked.

     “The dress is beautiful but not as
beautiful as you, my lady,” Leeton put in, bowing slightly and with a grin on
his face.

     Dustin hated sweet words but she controlled
herself. “Thank you, my lords,” she replied, letting go of Christopher’s neck
and pushing herself from his arms.

     “We failed to see you at the nooning meal, my
lady,” Edward said. “An injustice I should hope would be corrected this evening?”

     Dustin remembered her sore bottom, not
daring to glance back at Christopher. “Mayhap,” she replied vaguely. She was
embarrassed by all of the attention, something she was unused to in large
numbers. She could handle one man’s attention, but several men flustered her. “I
must go,” she said quickly.

     She started to move but suddenly there was
a shout high atop the wall and all attention immediately turned to the source.

     “Riders!” Came the cry again.

     “Are they flying a banner?” Christopher
called back.

     After a pause, there was a wave. “Prince
John’s colors.”

     Dustin looked up at Christopher in time to
see his expression darken and she was startled, wondering why.

     “Open the gates!” Her husband yelled back
after a moment, then turned to his men. “Keep your swords ready, lads.”

     Dustin wondered what on earth he meant by
that when suddenly he looked down as if he had forgotten she was there.

     “Max,” he gestured to the dark-haired
knight. “Take my wife into the keep, if you please.”

     She ignored the soldier’s outstretched hand.
“Why would Prince John be here?” she asked.

     “To see me,” Christopher replied evasively.
“Go with Max, Dustin.”

     “Wait,” she said, putting her hand on his
arm. “I want to see the Prince. I have never seen him before.”

     Christopher had so many other things on his
mind that he did not want to deal with her at this moment. He turned to her
swiftly.

     “Mayhap another time,” he said quickly. “Now,
go. Please.”

     Puzzled and perhaps a bit rebuffed, she
allowed Max to take her away and into the castle. Yet as soon as he had closed
the entry door behind her, she waited until she heard the knight’s footfalls
fade back down the steps before opening the door again and slipping out onto the
landing. She wasn’t being deliberately disobedient more than she was simply
curious. She’d never seen a prince before.

***

     Christopher knew that Prince John himself
would not have come to the far reaches of the realm, preferring to stay in
London surrounded by his silly, pampered, evil courtiers. Yet he was tense and
on guard, knowing exactly who would be riding though his gates and he could
taste the dislike on his tongue. There was only one man John felt capable of
carrying his messages, a man widely hated for his conniving and diabolical
mind. Christopher had been away for three years, yet even so, he could barely
speak the name Ralph Fitz Walter without choking on it.