Chapter Seven #7
“I do not like honeyed words,” she stammered back. “And I slug men who try to kiss me.”
“Shall I go no further?” His eyes twinkled under half lowered lids.
She gazed back into them, her fear returning slightly. “Tell me you care for me, as a husband should.”
“I care for you as a husband should,” he repeated, very nearly upon her.
“Tell me you shall protect and defend me always, and that you shall never bed another woman,” she whispered, feeling his hot breath on her face.
“All that and more, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Dustin?”
“Aye?” she could nearly taste him, as close as he was and her arms and legs were tingling painfully, her heart pounding in her ears.
“May I have permission to kiss you?” he asked, barely audible.
“Aye,” she replied.
“Chris?”
“Yes, Dustin?” He could nearly taste her, too, and it was driving him mad.
She hesitated a brief second, her eyes tearing away from his mouth long enough to look him in the eye. “Speak honeyed words to me,” she gushed breathlessly.
He was on her before she could draw another breath, his mouth warm and soft and suckling her so fiercely she was overwhelmed.
She’d never been kissed before. Dear Lord, is this what she had been afraid of?
She knew instantly that she had been foolish for fearing something as sweet and wonderful as this.
Dustin was pliable and willing as Christopher’s mouth did thrilling, erotic things to her own.
His tongue gently pried her lips apart and she opened her mouth wide, crying softly as his tongue plunged into her sweet depths.
Her arms wound around his neck, her hands pulling at his thick blond hair in movements that were purely instinctive and needful.
As Christopher increased his onslaught, he knew one thing, he’d never tasted anything so sweet in his life and he was afraid he would choke her trying to gain his fill.
But he could not stop himself and when her fingers entwined in his hair, he whisked her up into his arms and laid her gently upon the bed, covering her up with his big body.
Christopher’s hands moved to her full breasts, gentle yet insistent as he massaged her through her blouse and she arched into him, never having experienced such a thing but loving it instantly.
They were losing themselves in each other, faster than either one of them imagined possible, until all that mattered was the feel and touch and taste of one another.
My wife, Christopher thought with disbelief and glee. This woman is my wife.
“Chris?” a very loud male voice boomed from outside his door.
Christopher took his lips from Dustin’s, albeit reluctantly, and pushed himself off of her and moved for the door. Dustin, suddenly embarrassed to realize the position she was in, jumped off the bed and tried to look nonchalant although her face was mightily flushed.
Christopher opened the door and David pushed his way in, his eyes wide. He looked right at Dustin.
“Is everything well?” he asked.
Christopher leaned against the open door, glancing at Dustin. “Everything is fine, David. As you can see, Lady Dustin and I are whole and sound. No blood or bruises.”
David looked around, noticing the disarray of the room. The servants had told him of the way the baron had manhandled his wife out by the rabbit hutch and he was genuinely concerned for her safety.
“This room is a mess,” he commented, looking back at Dustin.
She cleared her throat and straightened her skirt, feeling very self-conscious and ashamed of her wanton behavior. She walked very quickly to the door, pushing past David and Christopher.
“If you will excuse me, my lords,” she said, her head down.
“Where are you going?” Christopher asked.
She didn’t dare look up, knowing her face to be red. “I….I have a few duties to attend to. I must go.”
“Dustin,” Christopher tried to stop her, but she escaped him and David grabbed his arm when he tried to follow. He looked reprovingly at his brother. “What do you do?” he indicated the grip on his wrist.
“What were you doing to her up here?” David demanded. “This room is a sight.”
Christopher was getting a bit tired of his brother’s meddling.
He sighed heavily. “David, she did this in her anger,” he said impatiently.
“I did not lay a hand on her. And, furthermore, you interfere like an old woman. Dustin is my wife, not our wife, and you will kindly remember that in the future. I do not like your constant hovering about.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Someone needs to hover, Chris, since you obviously do not know the first thing about dealing with her. She’s your chattel and that’s exactly how you treat her, and I am ashamed for you.”
Christopher stiffened. “I treat her better than that, and you know it. How dare you accuse me of neglect and ignorance.”
David shrugged and stepped away from his brother, angry. “She’s better than that, Chris.”
Christopher saw a good deal in that softly uttered statement and his cheeks went red with rage as he faced off against his brother.
“Goddamn you, David,” he hissed. “You have feelings for her. Can you deny it?”
David tried to turn away. “You are mad.”
Christopher blocked him. “Nay, little brother, I am not,” he said. “Now this all makes sense; that is why you have appointed yourself her personal defender. You care for my wife.”
David’s face turned red and his mouth tightened. “You do not know what you are saying.”
Christopher glared at his brother, becoming aware that his actions certainly implicated him in a much larger problem. But David would deny it until he died and there was no use pressing the issue.
Christopher relaxed a bit and stood back, feeling strangely jealous that David should care for Dustin in something other than a brotherly sense.
His brother, a man he had fought with and killed for, a man who was closer to him than anyone.
It had always only been Christopher and David against the world. And now… there was Dustin.
“She is my wife, David,” he said after a few moments, his voice hoarse and quiet. “Always remember that.”
Their eyes met, steadily, and for a moment they simply stared at each other. David was the first one to break.
“It is something I will never forget,” he said evenly.
Christopher waved his brother off, retreating back down the hall to find his wife, leaving David standing alone, struggling with himself.
*
Dustin had all but disappeared, but Christopher didn’t worry.
He was coming to know her well enough to assume she was somewhere on the grounds.
The nooning meal came and went and she did not appear, but still he did not concern himself.
They had said a great deal to each other that morn and he was feeling confident with the progression of their relationship.
In fact, he felt very hopeful. Instead of weakening it, his mistake seemed to have strengthened the bond they were forming.
He noticed that Jeffrey was also missing from the nooning meal, but thought nothing of it.
He was far more concerned with David, who ate silently and did not as much as pass him a glance.
Christopher was sure he had struck close to the truth when he accused David of caring for Dustin, and he knew his brother was angry at him, true or not.
Leeton and Edward were supervising the remaining repairs on the fortress as Christopher began arrangements for his departure to London.
He even went in to the village himself to retrieve the dresses Rebecca had finished, and to pay her a lump sum for everything.
He paid her far more than she was expecting to receive, and she was extremely pleased.
“My lord is generous,” she said, thanking him graciously; almost embarrassed to be accepting such a sum.
He fought off a grin. “ ’Tis worth it to see Lady Dustin in something other than rags,” he told her.
Without a hind glance, his arms laden with three surcoats for his wife, Christopher moved for the door and opened it. Yet, something inexplicably made him pause, and he found himself turning back to his wife’s friend.
Rebecca could read the uncertainty in his eyes and she was puzzled. “Is something wrong, my lord?”
“Nay, nothing is wrong.” He cleared his throat hesitantly, eyeing Rebecca’s mother. “May I have a word privately, Mistress Rebecca?”
Rushing to do such a great man’s bidding, Rebecca hurried outside and closed the door behind her. She clasped her hands together, waiting patiently for him to speak. He loaded the dresses onto his destrier before he uttered another word, and then when he spoke, it was timidly.
“You have known Lady Dustin for some time,” he said.
“Aye, my lord, since we were small girls,” she answered politely.
He nodded, scratching his head underneath his raised visor. “I have never been very good at pretense. My wife is a mystery to me and I wish to know more about her. Will you help me?”
“If I can,” Rebecca replied, wondering what he meant, exactly.
He could see her confusion and he hastened to clarify. “Tell me why she hates men so much,” he asked.
Rebecca shrugged. “I do not believe she hates men but I think she resents them for the God-given power they have over women. She is very independent and she does not like to be given orders.”
“I know,” he said wryly. “I have been on the receiving end of such displays of rebellion.”
As Rebecca giggled, he allowed himself to let his guard down a bit. He was now on the subject of Dustin and was genuinely curious about her. He wanted to know what Rebecca knew of his wife, a mystery more than any other mystery he had experienced.
“Will you tell me of the Lady Dustin you know?” he asked, almost pleadingly. “I would be grateful.”
Rebecca could see that through all of the metal and muscle and titles and hardness that he was simply a man with human emotions.
It struck her that he was sincere in his wish to want to know more about the woman he married so she felt comfortable divulging what she could. She hoped Dustin wouldn’t mind.