Rise of the Defender (86 page)

     William had lived a full life. He wondered
if Christopher de Lohr would do the same.

CHAPTER THIRTY

     When Christopher returned to his
apartments, he was satisfied to see that the soldiers he had positioned in the
hall were making a good show of strength.  When they heard Christopher’s boot
falls approach, without seeing his face first in the darkness, they made a
calculating and intimidating show of force. But once they realized the intruder
was their liege, they resumed their posts in the dimness of the corridor. 
Feeling confident in the protection he had lodged in the corridor, Christopher
entered his apartments.

     The antechamber was dark when he entered,
smelling of smoke and rushes. Dud was sitting near the fire, half-asleep, as
Christopher shut the door and bolted it.  Startled, Dud bolted to his feet with
his hand on the hilt of his weapon.

     “Easy,” Christopher admonished, holding up
a quieting hand. “’Tis only me. But it could have been a swarm of cutthroats.
You know better than to sleep on duty.”

     Dud was embarrassed. “Too much wine this
evening,” he offered weakly. “Truly, I was not asleep but I wish I was.”

     Christopher fought off a grin, motioning to
the door. “Go, then, you old woman,” he said. “I will… wait a moment; where is
Marcus? I left him here with you.”

     Dud was already heading to the door. “Aye,
you did,” he said, “but he disappeared about an hour ago. I went to use the
privy and when I returned, he was gone.”

     Christopher’s brow furrowed. “Gone?” he
repeated. “He left?”

     “Aye, my lord.”

     Christopher went from puzzled to annoyed.
“He left Dustin alone?”

     Dud didn’t want to incriminate Marcus and
he shrugged weakly. “He must have had a very good reason, my lord,” he said.
“He would not have simply left without one.”

     Christopher was angry. He went to the
bedchamber door, opening it quietly and peering in.  It was so dark that he had
to step into the chamber and lean over the bed in order to see his wife
sleeping soundly.  Satisfied she was whole, he went back out into the
antechamber and quietly shut the door.

     “Go and find Marcus,” he snapped softly.
“Tell him that I want to see him.”

     “Now, my lord?”

     Christopher was gruff. “Tomorrow at sunrise
he had better be on my doorstep,” he said. “And tell him if I have to go
hunting for him, he will be in a greater mess than he already is.”

     Dud knew that Marcus was in for a row from
the look on Christopher’s face.  He also knew better than to argue. Nodding
smartly, he quit the antechamber and shut the door behind him.

     Christopher bolted the door behind the man,
wondering what in the hell Marcus was thinking to have left Dustin
unprotected.  Retreating to the bed chamber, he went inside and softly shut the
door.

     It was so dark that he stumbled into the
bedframe and stubbed his toe, biting off a curse as he quietly removed his
clothing.  Or, at least, he thought he was doing it quietly; he ended up
hitting his elbow on the wardrobe and muffling a groan.  He had his boots off
and was removing his breeches when he heard Dustin stir.

     “You are loud enough to wake the dead,” she
said sleepily. “Hurry and get into bed before you end up breaking something.”

     He grinned in the darkness although she
couldn’t see it. “I think I broke my arm against the wardrobe.”

     “That is not an illustrious injury for a
man of your stature,” she giggled. “Tell people you broke it fighting off one
hundred angry men.”

     He snorted and felt his way to the bed.  “I
will make up a good story, have no doubt,” he said as he fell onto the mattress
and pulled the covers up. “I am sincerely sorry to have awoken you.”

     Dustin snuggled against him as he settled
in. “Twice in one night,” she murmured. “At least it was worth it the first
time. I wonder if it will be worth it again.”

     He pulled her up against his chest,
settling down for sleep. “Twice?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

     Dustin’s eyes were closed, already
half-asleep. “Do not tell me you have forgotten already,” she muttered. “How
could you?”

     “Forget what?”

     His chest was next to her face and she
kissed him softly. “Now do you remember?”

     “Remember what?”

     She put her hand on his thigh, moving
across it seductively until she came to his flaccid manhood.  She gripped it,
gently but firmly, and began to stroke him.

     “This,” she whispered, kissing him again.
“Shall we go a second time tonight?”

     Her hand to his manhood instantly inflamed
him but he put his hand on hers, stopping her from working him into a frenzy.

     “I have no idea what you are talking
about,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head, “but you know as well as I
do that we cannot do anything for six more weeks. The midwife said so.”

     She laughed softly. “That is not what you
said earlier.”

     “I was not
here
earlier,” he said,
shaking his head. “Sweetheart, whatever you think we may or may not have done,
you must have been dreaming.  Pity; I would have liked to have joined you.”

     Dustin’s eyes opened, staring out into the
darkness.  Her head came up. “You do not have to deny it,” she said. “I will
not tell the midwife, I promise.”

     He could barely see her silhouette against
the backdrop of the dying fire. “Sweetheart, I swear that you were dreaming.”

     “I was not!”

     “Aye, you were,” he said, reaching up to
pull her down against him. “There is no shame in a vividly erotic dream. It
happens all of the time.”

     “It does
not
happen to me,” she
insisted, although she let him pull her down to him again. “Chris, you were
here. We made love. Do you truly not remember any of it?”

     Christopher was growing amused.  His wife
was having hot and sexual dreams and refused to admit it.   He hugged her
tightly.

     “If I said I remembered, will you go back
to sleep?” he asked.

     Dustin could sense that he was laughing at
her and she was not humored in the least. “Why are you laughing?” she demanded.
“’Tis not funny at all.”

     He started chuckling, then. “I am
flattered,” he purred, his hands moving down to caress her naked buttocks but
just as quickly pulling away. “I thought men were the only ones who dreamed of
sex.”

     “I did
not
dream of sex.”

     “Admit it. You did.”

     She was pouting now, torn between knowing
what happened but now perhaps thinking it did not happen at all.  More than
that, she was confused. Was it really possible to have such dreams? Shifting
against her husband, she could smell his familiar musky scent mingled with the
faint smell of sandalwood. Christopher had soap that smelled of sandalwood that
he had brought back from the Holy Land, and the scent reminded her strong of
him.  It was soothing and comforting, and she began to calm down. 

     Perhaps he was right, after all.  Perhaps
she had only dreamt it.   As she settled against him and sighed with
contentment, her nose itched and she brought up a hand to scratch it.  As she
did so, she caught a whiff of pine.  It was strong and distinctive, unexpected
in this safe haven of their bed chamber for one very good reason; Marcus smell
of pine.

     Dustin’s eyes flew open and her heart began
to thump against her ribs.  She sniffed her hand again, discreetly, and was
again assaulted by the smell of pine.  Growing increasingly confused, perhaps
frightened, she carefully rolled over, away from Christopher, so that they were
spooning.  It also gave her a chance to smell her arms, which also seemed to
have the faint scent of pine on them.  A distinct sense of foreboding swept
her.

     “Chris?” she whispered.

     He was nearly asleep. “Aye?”

     “Where…,” she began, stammered, and then
started again. “Where were you tonight?”

     He yawned. “Attending business,” he said
vaguely. “Why do you ask?”

     She didn’t want to tell him. Not in a
million years did she want to tell him, but she had to know something first. 
She struggled to be clever about it.

     “Was David here as my protection?” she
wanted to know.

     He sighed faintly, sleepily. “He was not,”
he replied. “Dud and Marcus were left to protect you.”

     So Marcus
had
been here. Dustin felt
sick all over, thinking about what Christopher had referred to as her dream,
remembering it in such detail that she knew it had not, in fact, been a dream. 
She remembered every touch, every sensation, and every move and, in hindsight,
she should have realized something was different about it. The more she
remembered, the sicker she became.

     It had been so very dark in the room when
he had appeared. He had whispered and she had naturally assumed it to be
Christopher. Who else would have come into their bedchamber?  She had been
half-asleep and happy to see him, and had pulled him into bed with her. Christopher,
or more correctly, Marcus had never said a word.  He had simply ripped his
clothes off and made wild and passionate love to her. 

     His touch had been electric, almost brutal,
but she had loved every minute of it.  It had been exciting beyond words.  It
was as if…as if there had been no love involved whatsoever and they were acting
on animal instincts. When he had mounted her, it had been with power and
brutality and when he had climaxed, it had been with the instincts of a rutting
bull.  No real emotion, but simply blind and crazed attraction.

    
Oh, Lord
, she thought with horror.
She could smell the pine on her body, reminding her every second of the horror
of her unknowing infidelity.  Her stomach lurched and the tears came, and she
threw herself out of bed and slammed around in the darkness, searching for the
water basin.  She could hear Christopher behind her, wanting to know what the
matter was, as she found the basin purely by touch and vomited into it. 

     Dustin continued to vomit even as Christopher
climbed out of bed and put his hands on her soothingly, pulling her hair out of
the way so it would not get soiled.  His soft words and gentle hands threw her
into hysterics that she could not explain away.  All Christopher knew was that
she was ill and he wanted to send for a physic but she would not let him.  She
allowed him to help her back into bed and cover her up, where she quickly fell
into a fitful sleep.

    
It wasn’t a dream
, was her last
coherent thought.
Oh, God, it wasn’t a dream!

     Dustin remained in bed , sick and
distraught, for nearly a week.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

     The New Year came and went. The justices
had sent two envoys to see to Richard's well-being and to see to negotiations
with Henry and Philip Augustus. While they were waiting for news on that front,
Christopher's spies informed him that, indeed, John and his mercenary army were
holed up at Nottingham Castle and that it appeared the troops were preparing to
mobilize. Toward the end of January, Christopher began to mobilize his own
troops in anticipation of John's first move.

     Marcus had disappeared the night of
Dustin’s vomiting fit and no one had been able to find him. A month of worry
and fear went by as to his whereabouts when, as a last resort, Christopher sent
a messenger to Somerhill on the chance that Marcus had retreated to his new
holdings and the messenger was fortunate enough to lay eyes upon Burton
himself. But the new baron was taciturn and inhospitable, and would not allow
the messenger into his fortress. So the messenger returned to London with the
news, and Christopher began bombarding Somerhill with missives and messengers.

     But Marcus had yet to respond to
Christopher's missives and ignored all of Christopher's pleas to return to
London. Christopher was at a loss to understand the man’s behavior and would
have liked to go north himself and beat the stubborn man to a pulp, but he
could not risk leaving London with John preparing to strike. Moreover, he would
have to pass fairly close to Nottingham to gain his way north to Marcus' keep
and he would not hazard the possibility of getting captured or cornered by
John's buffoons. But he simply could not understand Marcus' attitude, nor did
he have the time to decipher it. Either Marcus was with him, or he wasn't, and
he was deeply saddened and puzzled that it was most likely the latter.