Rise of the Defender (46 page)

     She nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Aye.”

     Marcus watched them from afar, trying to
busy himself with his armor and sword, trying to pretend he didn't notice the
exchange. But he did, and it cut through him. He tried to ignore the twisting
in his chest, venting his frustration with his jerky movements. He'd never been
jealous in his life but knew that he was feeling his first at that moment, and
he was disgusted with himself for it. His infatuations usually lasted a mere
day or so, but this one had not only failed to dissipate, it had increased in
strength.

     But it could go no further, he told
himself. Lady Dustin was married to his liege, and he was not about to
jeopardize everything he had ever worked for simply for a woman. Mayhap if he
told himself that enough he would believe it, although a fleeting thought told
him that she would be worth every heartache should it come to that.

***

     Dustin dressed carefully for her first
formal supper. She knew that there would be scads of elegantly dressed women,
and she would simply have to make do with what she had. She had never in her
life cared for fine clothes or jewelry, but she wished she had some now. She
wondered if Christopher would be ashamed of her because she was not swathed in
expensive finery. He had disappeared to parts unknown but Leeton and Dud were out
in the antechamber acting as her protectors.

     She had her maids hem up a surcoat Rebecca
had not quite finished, a surcoat of exquisite ruby-red brocade, almost a
garnet it was so rich. The neckline was wide-open, hugging her arms just below
the shoulders and clinging to her figure with long sleeves and a snug bodice.
Her white breasts were displayed most provocatively, and she smiled when she
knew that Rebecca had made it this way with her trip to London in mind. The
skirt of the surcoat was huge and flowing, creating a train in back when she
walked.

     She sat in front of a lovely carved vanity,
absently brushing her hair and wondering what she should do with the unruly
mass. It was so long and she had so much of it that it would completely cover
up the surcoat if she let it, so again for the first time in her life, she was
sorry she knew nothing of the latest hairstyles.

     One of her maids, a short plump woman with
a fat face, watched her young mistress for some time before approaching
timidly.

     “Do ye want yer hair properly done, my
lady?” she asked with a smile, gazing at Dustin in the reflection of the
mirror.

     Dustin sighed. “I do not know. I do not
know what to do with it. I want to look fashionable, but I do not know how.”

     The maid put the shift she was holding down
on a chair. “If ye would allow me, my lady, I will help ye.”

     “Would you, Marta? I would appreciate it
greatly,” Dustin said sincerely.

     The woman nodded, beaming, and scooted from
the room. Dustin waited several minutes before the woman came hustling back, a
strange looking device in her hand. She immediately went to the hearth and lay
it upon the coals.

     “What's that?” Dustin asked distrustfully.

     “A French frizzing iron,” the woman
announced. “We shall do wonderful things with that mane of yers. Another maid
is coming to help me, with your approval.”

     Dustin nodded, trusting that the women knew
what they were doing. She certainly didn't.

     An hour later, curled and brushed and
primped, Dustin was allowed to look at herself for the first time. Initial
shock was immediately replaced by a wide, happy grin.

     The frizzing iron had done just that -
crimped her long hair until it was a mass of wavy brocade. The castle maid had
pulled the hair around her face back, braiding it, and then wrapping that braid
around her head to keep the hair of her face. Yards of wavy, silky hair
cascaded down her back in glorious fashion. Tiny tendrils of crimped hair
caressed her lovely face.

     Dustin hardly recognized herself, and she
was absolutely delighted with her hair. She knew that only unmarried women wore
their hair free at court, sometimes adorning it with pretty barrettes or thin
nets, but she had far too much hair for those trappings. She had no choice but
to leave it free and lovely. She admired herself in the mirror, turning around
and around until she was dizzy and laughing, hoping her husband liked it, too.

     With her hair dressed and finished, she
pulled on delicate cream-colored hose and slippers to match, too tight because
they had been her mother's. But she didn't care, she was actually pleased with
her appearance this night and nothing could spoil her mood.

     The castle maid had one more trick up her
sleeve before leaving. She took the beeswax and ocher that Dustin had brought
with her and mixed it together until she had a shade that was barely colored
red. Then, she added a bit of oil, just enough to make it workable, and then
deftly painted Dustin's lips with it.

     Dustin studied herself in the mirror,
vastly pleased with her slightly red, slightly glossy lips. She kept rubbing
her lips together nervously, unused to the cosmetic. Yet with her hair up and
her lips painted, she didn't feel like quite such an outsider. She could not
wait to be seen, positive the results were pleasing.

     She wasn't disappointed. Leeton and Dud
could only stare at her in awe. Leeton was the first to remember his manners,
taking her hand and kissing it softly. Dustin simply beamed.

     “Do you really like it?” she grilled them.

     They nodded firmly. “Aye, my lady, there is
no one who can match your beauty,” Leeton said truthfully.

     “’Tis not too much? Too red? Too much
hair?” she pushed, wanting to know if they were being honest with her. She
could probably wear an old sack and they would tell her she was the fairest
maiden in all the land.

     “Nay, my lady, you are…..ravishing,” Leeton
assured her.

     Dustin blushed appreciatively. “Thank you.
Do you think Christopher will think so?”

     Leeton's smile faded a bit. “Oh, yes, my
lady, he will. I promise you that.”

     Pleased with herself, she wandered over to
the window to wait for her husband to return for her.

     There was a knock on the door several
minutes later. Leeton unsheathed his sword as Dud rose to answer.

     Edward and Sir Trent stood in the doorway,
dressed in their armored best. They pushed their way into the room, stunned
into reverent silence when they beheld Lady de Lohr. Edward, after a moment of
gaping at her, swallowed hard and turned to Leeton.

     “Go and change into appropriate attire,” he
said. “Trent and I will keep the lady company. Return here when you are
finished and we will escort Lady de Lohr to the feast.”

     “Why would you escort me?” Dustin wanted to
know. “Where is my husband?”

     “He is indisposed, Lady de Lohr, nothing to
be concerned with,” Edward replied evenly. “He will join us shortly.”

     Dustin, disappointed, wandered back over to
the window and sat in a chair, staring at her hands. Edward followed Leeton and
Dud out into the hall, making sure the door was closed tightly before turning
to them.

     “What is wrong?” Leeton wanted to know. He
could hear something in Edward’s tone.

     “I am not sure,” Edward replied in a
whisper. “Marcus was cornered by Ralph an hour ago and was ordered to champion
the prince in the tournament. Marcus, of course, refused and nearly killed the
man. Now they are all in the prince's apartments, and Christopher and David
have gone with him for support. Unfortunately, the prince demanded a private
meeting and Christopher and David are waiting in the hall like caged beasts.
'Tis not a pleasant situation, to say the least. That is why we are to escort
Dustin to the feast and wait for them there.”

     “Damn,” Leeton muttered. “Champion John?
Who in the hell would want to do that?”

     Edward cocked a wry eyebrow. “No-one, which
is why they are trying to order Marcus into the position,” he replied. “Even
though Christopher commands the troops, knights are not truly considered a part
of that vocation. John is trying to insist that knights fall under the command
of the ruling body.”

     “If Marcus were to champion John, then he
would be competing against Christopher,” Dud thought aloud. “As awesome a
prospect as that is, it is also frightening. They would surely kill one
another.”

     The men stood a moment in silence, each
contemplating their own horrific thoughts until Edward stirred for the door.

     “Off with you both,” he commanded softly,
“and a quick return.”

     Without another word, Leeton and Edward
disappeared down the corridor.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

     Marcus stood stiffly in Prince John's
antechamber, his jaw ticking with frustration. Ralph and the prince sat several
feet away, side by side, as if they were an ugly pair of statues. The
conversation had reached a lull with Marcus refusing to budge and Ralph nursing
a sore jaw. If it were up to Marcus, he would be nursing a broken neck as well.

     John sat back in his silk chair, angry at
the refusal of this mere knight to champion him but holding his temper for the
moment. He would gain nothing if he erupted and he knew it.

     “Tell me again why this proposal is so
distasteful to you, Burton,” he asked nicely, hoping to cool the enraged man.
An angry Marcus Burton was not healthy for anyone.

     Marcus gazed at him impassively. “I serve
Baron Christopher de Lohr, and King Richard is my liege. I will serve no
other.”

     “But I am Richard's brother.” John pleaded.
“As crown prince, 'tis right that you should serve me as well, is it not?”

     “Nay,” Marcus said flatly. “I serve my
king.”

     Ralph muttered something but John cut him
off, switching tactics. It was obvious Marcus Burton could not be ordered,
pushed or tricked into anything; they had been trying that for the better part
of the hour. Therefore, he would try another route.

     “Burton, you are the best knight in the
realm, everyone knows that,” John said. “You should have titles, glory,
everything you deserve, but instead you choose to serve a mere baron when you,
in fact should be a baron yourself.”

     Marcus merely cocked an eyebrow. John
continued. “I could grant you a baronetcy, Burton. You could have lands, a
magnificent keep, and the most beautiful wife in the land. Everything you
deserve and desire can be yours for doing me a simple favor.”

     Marcus looked away, outwardly disinterested
when, in fact, he knew John had the power to grant exactly what he promised if
accepting a baronetcy from John would compromise his standing with Richard,
then he would absolutely refuse. Still, much to his regret, he found himself
remotely interested. As a powerful baron, he could control much in England and
maintain the country for Richard's return. And there was truth to the feeling
that he was somewhat jealous of Christopher for his new lands, wishing Richard
had seen it fit to bestow the same glory on his head.

     And why hadn't he? Christopher was not a
better man than he. He had two years of service on Marcus, that was all, and
although he was a better tactician, he was not a better soldier. The resentment
he pretended didn't exist suddenly seeped through his veins, and for another
reason as well - Lady Dustin.

     John watched Marcus' impassive face,
knowing the man must at least be thinking on his offer. He would be a fool not
to.

     “Think on it, Burton,” John repeated,
quieter. “I shall grant you your heart's desire if you do one small, simple
thing for me as my champion.”

     Marcus looked at him. “I must refuse again,
sire. I want no part of you.”

     Ralph and John glanced at each other and
Ralph stood up, though keeping a safe distance from the huge man. Something
unspoken was passed in that glance, something that hinted of a darker purpose. 
Marcus didn’t catch it, but Ralph knew what he had to do.  Information had come
to them earlier that day, by way of a soldier’s comment and rumors, that was
too valuable to pass up.  Like any good tactician, Ralph would use it to gain
their wants. He went for the throat.

     “'Twould be a shame if Sir Christopher
happened to find out that you kissed his wife,” he said casually. “I wonder
what he would say?”