Rise of the Defender (39 page)

     He was winded, but not because he was
tired. He was so damn angry that he shoved his sword back in its scabbard hard
enough to drive the tip through the reinforced end. His gaze went to his wife,
standing at the top of the stairs with Leeton a step or two below her, and
pointed a massive finger.

     “To the room!” he roared.

     Dustin jumped, truly puzzled at his reaction.
Her shock turned to anger. “Well, you do not have to
yell
about it.”

     Christopher didn’t reply, but his jaw was
ticking. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he made his way through the
debris and took the stairs two at a time. Leeton gave him a wide berth as he
came up on his wife, huffing and puffing, and his cheeks flushed with fury.

     “To the room, now, or I will spank you
right here in front of everyone,” he seethed.

     Dustin’s eyes widened and she obeyed,
gathering her skirts and hustling down the hall. Christopher, pausing a moment
to utter a prayer to God to give him patience, followed.

     The knights heard the chamber door slam
closed upstairs, and silently they began to right fallen chairs and see to the
broken tables. They were moving silently and efficiently when Leeton began to
laugh. Edward glanced at the man as if he were crazy, but caught onto his mirth
before he knew it, and he too began to choke with laughter. David chimed in
with his high-pitched giggle, followed by Marcus and the others until the
entire room was screaming with laughter.

     “Why are you laughing?” the innkeeper
implored, devastated by the sight of his common room.

     David wiped his eyes. “Because my brother
has married a troublemaker and he is too besotted to notice.”

     “He notices,” Edward corrected him. “But he
chooses not to care.”

***

     Upstairs, Christopher slammed the door and
bolted it as Dustin ran to the other side of the room, her eyes wide. He ripped
off his helmet and tossed it aside, unbuckling his sword and scabbard and letting
them clatter to the floor. Dustin watched his angry, jerky movements
apprehensively.

     “Are you going to spank me?” she asked
fearfully.

     He didn’t look at her as his breast plate
fell heavily to the floor and he ripped off his hauberk. “God knows I should,”
he muttered angrily. “I should spank you so hard that you blister, but then you
wouldn’t be able to travel to London. Hell, it would serve you right if I left
you here.”

     Her big gray eyes filled with hot tears. “You
wouldn’t, would you?”

     His head came up and he tried not to be
swayed by the tears. “I should.”

     Her lower lip quivered. “I am sorry. I did
not mean to start the fight.”

     He took a cleansing breath, calming his
boiling blood. Her tears were cooling his fury. “You didn’t start the fight,”
he struggled to stay calm. “But you know you should have left with Leeton. He
was trying to be gentle in removing you. Next time I give him permission to
manhandle you like a sack of oats.”

     She blinked her tears away. “But I was in
no danger on the stairs. I wanted to watch you fight.”

     “Why?” he implored. “In God’s name, why,
Dustin? Leeton was trying to get you to safety.”

     She could not answer him. Instead, she sat
on the edge of the bed and pouted. He marched over to her, his massive hands
resting on his hips.

     “Listen to me well, lady, for I will not
repeat this,” he said lowly. “You will always do what is asked of you, without
question or hesitation. You could have been in great danger in there. What if Leeton
had been felled somehow and you had been at the mercy of one of those cretins?
Would you have my attention divided in a sword fight so that instead of focusing
on my opponent, I am worrying about you and my enemy has an opportunity to gut
me? I do not give you orders to hear my own voice, my lady. I do it because I
know what is best for you. You will never again disobey nor question me, or so
help me I will lock you in a room at Lioncross and throw away the key.”

     Dustin hung her head, completely
remorseful. “I am sorry, Christopher. I…I did not think.”

     “I know you did not,” he said harshly. “That
is your problem, which is why I think for you.”

     Her head snapped up to him and he caught a
flash of resentment. “Not in every matter, husband. I can think well for myself.”

     “Dustin!” he snapped, smacking a balled
fist into his hand. But he forced himself to calm, turning away from her in
agitation. “I am not arguing your ability to think for yourself, but you are a
naive woman. You must trust me with your safety, and with other important
matters. I am smarter than you are.”

     Her mouth opened in outrage, but wisely,
said nothing. She stood up and unfastened her surcoat, allowing the garment to
fall to her feet. Angrily, she tore off the woolen boots and woolen hose and
kicked everything into a big pile. Then she moved to the huge bed and yanked
back the coverlet, settling herself with loud, furious movements before jerking
the covers back over her.

     Christopher watched her, knowing how hard
it was for her to bite her tongue. But he was right and she knew it.

     “So that is it?” he said. “Not even a thank
you for saving your virtue?”

     Her blond head came up, her hair tousled
wildly and her face red with fury. “Oh… go to… go sleep with your knights.”

     Her anger amused him, but he kept his humor
banked. “Very well, then, you ungrateful creature, next tune I shall let any
man who pleases ravage you.”

     She brushed the hair from her face in
outrage. “Just let them try. I shall drive their nose clear through their brain.”
she sat up, her anger gaining speed. “And I didn’t need you to protect me, anyway.
I do just fine by myself, or do I have to wield a pick axe to remind you?”

     “You do not,” he said, calmer now. “And you
do need me, lady, whether or not you care to admit it.”

     She let out a grunt of frustration and fell
back onto the bed, beating her pillow to make it comfortable. She was far too angry
to respond, another word from him would have her throwing things, and she
remembered what happened the last time she did that. So she chose to ignore
him.

     Christopher was nearly sedate again. He
proceeded to remove his boots, breeches, and tunic, laying them on a frame by
the fire to dry them out, and snuffed out the candle. Nude, he climbed in bed
next to his wife’s stiff body. They lay there in the darkness, listening to the
rain, for a long while.

     “How are your hands?” he asked.

     “Fine,” she snapped.

     He sighed. “I should wrap them.”

     “Nay,” she said harshly. “I do not want
your help. I do not need it. I want to go home.”

     “Fine,” he said shortly. “I shall send you
home tomorrow. You cause too much trouble.”

     She rolled over, looking at his profile in
the dim light. He was staring straight up at the ceiling.

     “Fine,” she agreed angrily. “I do not want
to be where I am not wanted. Mayhap I shall petition the church for an annulment,
and since you think I am too much trouble, I am sure you will not contest it.
You can keep Lioncross and I shall marry somebody else, somebody who will treat
me as an equal.”

     “And who would that be?”

     She didn’t know, but she thought quickly
and blurted the first name that came to mind. “Jeffrey.”

     He turned to her in the darkness. “Kessler?
Hell, he wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

     Her anger was turning into hurt, and she
rolled back over on her side away from him. “He loves me and would treat me
well.”

     He flipped her onto her back, his angry
face looming over her. “Did he tell you that?”

     His big body was half-covering her, and his
huge hands were gripping her forearms and she was forced to admit that she was intimidated.

     “Of course not,” she said softly. “But I
have heard the talk; I know what the men say.”

     He studied her in the light of the distant
fire and his grip eased, turning soft and caressing. “Yet you do not return
these feelings.”

     She shook her head. “Nay, husband, I only
care for you,” she murmured, then scowled. “Even if you are cruel and demanding
and harsh.”

     He raised an eyebrow, but already she could
see his gaze softening. “I am what you dictate, lady,” he said. “Were you not
so stubborn and willful and mischievous, I would not have to be severe with
you.”

     The tenderness in his eyes filled her with
warmth and awakening passion. She pulled her arm free of his grasp and ran her
fingers through his hair. “Why did you attack that knight?”

     “Why do you think? He insulted you and I
could not allow that to go unpunished,” he said firmly.

     “But I yelled at him first,” she reminded
him, tracing her finger along his jawline.

     He let out a long sigh. “You did, but no
matter. You were defending the serving wench, which is admirable.”

     The mood between them was quickly moving
from irritation to desire. He reached up and pulled her hand away from his
head, studying her blistered palm.  “I really should bandage your hands,
Dustin.”

     “Did you hurt your hands punching that man?”
She turned the tables on him, looking at his knuckles. “You hit him very hard.”

     He shrugged. “My hands are fine,” he said,
looking at her again.  “I saw you kick that soldier in the chest. Damnation,
you are a ruffian.”

     She flashed a quick, embarrassed smile,
moving both hands to his head, touching him tenderly. She didn’t want to talk
about it anymore, for she knew she had been wrong in nearly every way and he
had done what had been necessary to protect her.

     “Chris?” she asked softly.

     “Hmm?” he closed his eyes to her touch.

     “Are you really going to send me home?” she
asked.

     He opened his eyes. “Are you really going
to divorce me?”

     She grinned and giggled, “No.”

     “Then I won’t send you back,” he said,
leaning down to nuzzle her neck.

     His beard was scratchy and his breath warm
and she began to melt against him. “Am I really a troublemaker?”

     “The worst,” his voice was husky as he
gently kissed her neck, her shoulders.

     She didn’t say anymore, giving herself over
to him completely as his mouth caressed her gently at first, then more
insistently. He had her lift her arms at one point so that he could remove her
woolen shift, which then landed on the floor next to her surcoat and boots. He
stopped a moment to gaze at her sweet body in the flicker of the firelight. She
watched his face, shuddering as he ran his finger lightly down her torso.

     “You are so beautiful,” he murmured.

     His voice was rich and seductive. She hated
sweet words; she’d always hated them. But hearing them from his mouth meant
something to her. As he bent down to kiss her again, she put her fingers up to
his lips.

     “Tell me more,” she whispered.

     His eyes glowed and he gave her a cocky
sort of grin. “You are the most beautiful, sweet, luscious woman I have ever
seen. Your eyes capture my heart and soul, Dustin,” he gathered her closer to
him, kissing her again. “You are as perfect as I am.”

     “More so,” she whispered into his hair as
he dragged his mouth over her chest.

     “Aye, more so,” he agreed, not wanting to
talk anymore. He simply wanted to make love to her.

     His manner was more urgent this night as
the storm raged outside. He suckled her harder and his hands were more insistent
than they had been, but she responded to him openly, matching his passion. His
large hand stroked her tender folds, playing with her, arousing her juices. He
put two fingers in her and she moaned, pulling at his hair.

     “Christ, you are wet,” he breathed.

     “What does that mean?” she gasped.

     He grinned, removing his fingers and
placing his organ against her. “It means that your body wants me, sweetheart.
It means that you want me to make love to you.”

     She nodded wildly. “Aye, I do.”

     He pushed himself up on his arms so he
could look down at her and watch her body respond to him. When she brought her
legs up, he pushed hard and drove into her in one thrust.

     Dustin cried out softly, clutching at his
hard buttocks. She felt his muscles contract as he thrust into her and it
excited her terribly.

     Christopher was riding on a haze of desire,
driving into his wife as he had never made love before, watching her nipples
harden in response to him. Aye, he desired her, lusted for her, but his actions
this night were not limited to those emotions. He wanted to show his affection
for her, to show her without words how deeply he was coming to care for her. He
wanted her to care for him as much as he was coming to adore her. And he was
rapidly coming to adore her, in spite of everything.