Rise of the Defender (40 page)

     They achieved their pleasure together in a
surge of contractions and emotions, Dustin clinging to him and gasping so hard
he thought she might be crying. But she wasn’t crying, merely overcome with the
newness of the sensations he was creating within her. He liked awakening her
desire.

     They lay together in the dark room, only the
sound of the rain as it beat against the building. Christopher's lips rested on
her forehead, his eyes staring into the darkness as he wondered how this little
fireball of a woman managed to embed herself under his skin.

     Dustin fell asleep in his arms, curled up
against him like a kitten. As much as he wanted to join her in slumber, he had
to go find Marcus and find out what the man knew. He was disturbed by the fact
that Marcus had returned from the north quickly, which could only mean one
thing, the lines were drawn quite decisively in either Richard's or John’s
favor. He must know what he was up against.

     Leaving his wife tucked in with mounds of
coverlets, he quietly donned his clothing and strapped on his sword and went to
find Marcus.

     Leeton was still downstairs, staring
moodily into his cup of ale. Christopher strolled up beside him, wondering why
he had not retired yet.

     “You are still up?” he asked Leeton.

     The big knight turned ale-sotted eyes to
his liege. “Aye, still.”

     Christopher could see the man’s moody
expression and he knew why. Leeton drank too much and he was forever emotional
about Rachel. “Go to bed, Leeton,” he said quietly. “We leave before dawn and I
need you alert.”

     Leeton sighed, belched, and set down the
cup. “You know, Chris, it's on nights like these that I miss her the most,” he
said softly. “Rachel always loved the rain; in fact, she liked to run around in
it and was forever catching chill. And when I saw your wife tonight the way she
acted, with spirit and with determination, it reminded me of Rachel again.
Sometimes I think my grief will consume me.

     Christopher patted his friend’s shoulder
gently, not knowing how to reply. Leeton stood up, weaving unsteadily.

     “Will it ever go away, Chris?” he whispered
beseechingly. “Or will I go to my grave with this agony in my heart?”

     “It will fade, with time,” Christopher
replied quietly. “All memories fade with time.”

     “But if something were to happen to Dustin,
would you be able to go on with your life as if she never existed?” Leeton
pressed.

     Christopher gazed back at him with
uncertainty. “Of course not, but things are different with Dustin. You married
Rachel because you loved her. I married Dustin because I had to.”

     “But you care for her, I know you do,” Leeton
said. “I have seen the way you are with her, and I'd venture to say that you
are growing to love your wife. If she were to die, could you live with it?”

     Christopher was growing increasingly
off-balance. “Go to bed, Leeton.”

     Leeton reached out and grabbed Christopher
by his tunic, his drunk eyes awash with sorrow. “Sometimes I can’t stand it
anymore. I want to die.”

     Christopher snatched his friend’s armor,
giving him a firm shake. “You will not think that way, do you hear? You have a
son to live for, Leeton. Do you think Rachel would approve of the way you are
wallowing in self-pity, leaving your son to be raised by his grandparents?” He
shook Leeton again, forcing the man to look at him. “Come to grips with
yourself, man, or you are of no use to anyone.”

     Leeton stared back at his liege, his tears
fading and his body going limp. “If it were Dustin, could you come to grips
with it? What if she bore you a son that was the image of her and every time
you looked at him, you felt your grief run fresh? Can you honestly tell me that
you would ever be the same man again?”

     Their blue eyes met with ferocious
intensity, reading into each other’s minds. Christopher was fully prepared to
deny everything that had just been asked of him, but found in his heart that he
could not. He released his hold on Leeton.

     “Nay,” he replied simply. “I would not be.
Damnation, Leeton, since I married her, there are times when I do not even
recognize myself. Now, go to bed. I will help you.”

     Christopher half-carried Leeton up the
stairs to the chamber he shared with David. David, sound asleep and snoring
loudly, was sprawled out over one small bed and Christopher sat Leeton down on
the other. He undressed the man down to his breeches and pushed him back on the
pillow.

     He stood there a moment, gazing down at his
once-mighty friend. So many thoughts were rolling through his head… is that
what loving a woman did to a man? Sapping his will to live and destroying his
soul? If that was the case, then Christopher wanted no part of it. He could not
allow himself to love Dustin. Confused and frustrated, he quit the chamber.

     Marcus was asleep in the next room.
Christopher burst in, startling the man into brandishing his sword until he saw
who his intruder was. Christopher smiled wryly and threw a tunic at him.

      “Get up,” he commanded softly. “We have
much to discuss.”

     Marcus blinked, clearing his eyes as he sat
up and pulled the woolen tunic over his head. He yawned. “So did you give your
wife the lashing she deserved?”

     “Tongue-lashing, yes,” Christopher said,
pouring himself a cup of wine. “I did spank her, once, but that was only
because she gave me no choice.”

     Marcus chuckled. “Is she always that
outspoken?” He was referring to her confrontation with the hostile knights.

     Christopher drained his cup. “Always,
Marcus,” he said with weary irritation. “Arthur let her do anything she damn
well pleased and never disciplined her in the least. Unfortunately, that left
me with a job on my hands.”

     “Who cares?” Marcus stood up, easily as
tall as Christopher. “If my wife was that beautiful, I would put up with a
spoiled nature, too. It was a true pleasure to watch her earlier this evening
as she spoke with the serving wench and the innkeeper. She is a lively one.”

     “Aye, she is.” Christopher wanted to stop
talking about his wife and get to the business at hand. “There is a stable
outside. We will speak out there.

CHAPTER TEN

     Dustin woke up coughing.  She sputtered and
choked for a long time before finally sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. The
fire in the hearth was a faint glow and she had no idea what time it was.

     “Christopher?” she called softly.

     She was answered with silence. Even the
rain outside had lessened but she could still hear it. Coughing harder, she
realized she was freezing and pulled the covers about her tighter, wondering
where her husband was. She lay back down, trying to get comfortable, but then
she was sweating and threw the covers off. A moment later, she was cold again.
And she was very thirsty.

     She sat up in bed again and tossed the
covers off, freezing, and ran to the pile of clothing that lay on the floor.
With icy hands, she donned her woolen shift, red woolen dress, stockings and
boots. She was so thirsty that she wanted to find a well or watered wine to
slake it.

     The corridor outside was quiet and she
could hear faint snoring coming from somewhere. She walked silently down the
hall to the staircase, shaking with chill as she went. Oddly, her palms were
sweaty and her forehead was coated with perspiration, and she wondered if her
strange condition had something to do with her wounded hands. Mayhap they had
infected her somehow. Coughing again, she took the steps stiffly and wandered
back into the kitchen.

     There was a big wooden bucket on the
counter with a ladle in it. Relieved, she took several large ladles of water, slurping
the water. It felt cool to her parched throat and she wiped some on her hot
face.

     Then, she was so blasted hot again she
could hardly stand it. The woolen dress was like a furnace, hot and cloying and
restricting, and she was desperate to take it off or cool down any way she
could. She was suffocating. Outside, the rain pelted the ground gently.
Cool
rain
. Dustin threw open the door and stood out in the downpour, feeling the
water cool her overheated body.  She continued to stand there a few moments,
coughing her lungs up and letting the cold water ease her.

     “Dustin!” Came a sharp voice behind her. “What
in the hell are you doing?”

     She turned to see David standing behind her,
clad only in his boots and breeches. Astonished, he yanked her back inside.

     “I am hot, David.” she protested weakly. “And
I was coughing, so I came downstairs to get a drink. Why are you up?”

     “Because I heard you coughing,” he informed
her flatly. He put his hand up to her forehead, feeling her scorching cheeks. “Jesus
Christ, you are burning up. You have a hell of a fever going.”

     She batted his hands away. “Stop that. I am
not sick – ‘tis this damn woolen dress. It is making me hot.”

     He
cocked an eyebrow at her. “You are hot because you are ill,” he said.    “Where
is Chris?”

     “I do not know,” she said softly, feeling
weak and tired. “I woke up and he was gone. I do not know where he went.”

     David saw her sway and her lips went pale.
He reached out and scooped her up, heavy wet dress and all. David wasn’t near
as tall as Chris, but he was wonderfully broad and muscular and smooth. Dustin,
not feeling like fighting him, wrapped her arms around his neck and lay her
head on his shoulder.

     “I guess I do not feel very well,” she
admitted in a whisper.

     “I can imagine,” David tried to ignore just
how sweet and soft she felt in his arms, carrying her through the common room
and up the stairs. Her long hair licked at his skin and he found he deeply
envied his brother his wife.

     He kicked the door of her room open and
carried her in. He set her on unsteady feet, but she was sopping wet and he
knew he had to get her out of her clothes.

     “Stay here, Dustin,” he said softly,
crossing the hall and throwing open a door. “Edward! Get out of bed and go find
Chris.”

     Edward, dazed, rolled around in his bed. “What
is wrong?”

     “Dustin’s taken ill,” David said. “Find
Chris. Mayhap he is in the camp somewhere.”

     Edward was up, donning his nearly-dry
clothing. David retreated back into Dustin’s room. He didn’t want to undress
her, but she was standing in the middle of the room, shaking like a leaf, and
he knew he had to do something. He could not wait for Christopher to come and
take care of her.

     “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you
out of that dress

     Dustin didn’t protest. David deftly undid
the stays of her dress and peeled the wet garment from her. He then sat her
down on the bed and removed her boots, biting his lip when he peeled off her
stockings. Her legs were like silk. He was struggling with himself more than he
ever had, because he knew without a doubt that Dustin was the most desirable
woman he had ever come across, a woman that was unknowingly endearing herself
to him. A woman who was his brother’s wife.

     Dustin remained clad in her damp shift, but
David would go no further. He wasn’t strong enough to remove the shift and he
suspected his brother wouldn’t take kindly to it, anyway. Dustin, still sitting
on the bed with her wet hair, shivered violently and spurred David into another
sort of action. He stoked the hearth until it was a roaring blaze then moved
her over by the fire.

     “Come and sit over here and dry out,” he
said.

     He sat her in a chair right next to the
fire, covering her legs with a thick blanket. Dustin, her eyes closed, sat and shivered
and he stood back, wondering where in the hell his brother was and wondering
why he could not have been offered Arthur Barringdon’s daughter.

     Several minutes later, Christopher charged
into the room with Marcus on his heels. He was winded, having run from the
stable yards at top speed when Edward found him and relayed David’s message.
His handsome face a mask of concern as his eyes fell on Dustin.

     “What in the hell is wrong?” he demanded,
falling to one knee beside her.

     “She awoke coughing and went downstairs to
find something to drink,” David explained as Christopher felt her hot face. “I
heard her coughing and followed her into the kitchens. By the time I got there,
she was standing out in the rain being soaked.”

     “Out in the rain?” He cupped Dustin’s warm
face, forcing her to look at him. “Why were you in the rain, sweet?”

     “She was hot,” David answered for her. “I
brought her back to your chamber and removed her dress, but her shift is still
damp and she should probably take it off as well.”

     Christopher nodded, pulling the blanket off
of her. “Thank you, David. I appreciate your assistance,” he said. “One last
thing, if you will; find the innkeeper and have his wife prepare a hot willow
brew for her fever.”