Chapter Ten #2
Christopher called a meeting with his knights in the common room; seven huge imposing men sitting around a rough oak table. The entire purpose of the meeting was to see who would stay behind with his wife until she was able to travel.
“I plan to leave twenty-five men-at-arms behind to serve as escort when my wife is well enough to travel,” Christopher told his men. “Marcus has graciously volunteered to stay with her and I will accept his offer. However, I would like at least two more men to stay in addition.”
“Did you have any one in mind?” David asked.
“Not you, little brother,” he replied. “I want you with me. I would like to leave Dud and Edward, if that is acceptable.”
Sir Thomas Dudley and Edward glanced at each other, nodding. “It is,” said Edward.
Young Trent Burton, newly knighted last year, was honored and thrilled at the prospect of accompanying the Lion’s Claw to London.
According to Marcus, Christopher was the greatest knight who had ever held a sword.
He looked forward to the opportunity to prove himself, suspecting that he had not been asked to guard the baron’s wife because he was not yet trusted.
That was fine with him, for he would rather serve the baron personally.
Christopher stood up. “It is decided,” he said. “Edward, I do not want Dustin on the road unless the fever is completely gone and her symptoms have subsided, and do not let her convince you otherwise. Her powers of persuasion are great.”
Edward had already seen much evidence of that. “Understood, my lord.”
Christopher moved away from the group, confident that his wife’s safety would be well-tended in his absence. “See to your duties,” he told his men as he headed for the stairs. “I will say farewell to my wife and join you shortly.”
The knights disbursed as Christopher took the stairs.
He entered the bedchamber quietly, noting the innkeeper’s wife as she sat beside the bed, watching Dustin sleep fitfully.
Her two maids sat in the far corner with the soiled red woolen surcoat between them.
All he did was motion to them and the room was cleared and the door closed.
He went over to his wife, gazing down at her pale face and watching her labored breathing.
He was so very sorry to be leaving her, but he trusted Marcus and Edward to take care of her.
He bent over and kissed her forehead, twice, and smoothed errant bits of hair away. Dustin sighed deeply and her eyes fluttered open.
“Greetings, husband,” she stretched and coughed. “Are we leaving?”
He kissed her forehead again. “I am leaving, sweetheart, you are staying. Remember?” he said quietly. “But I shall see you in London in a few days.”
She nodded sleepily and he wondered if she even understood what he was telling her. She seemed very groggy with the potion the innkeeper’s wife had given her. “I am leaving Edward and Marcus here with you, and you will obey them implicitly. Do you understand me?”
“Obey, aye,” she murmured, her eyes closing as sleep tried to reclaim her. “Chris?”
“What is it?” he whispered.
“I think I shall miss you,” she muttered. “Will you miss me?”
She was speaking like a drunkard and he smiled faintly; it was rather humorous. “I will.”
She smiled, eyes closed. “Do you know what else?”
“Nay,” he whispered. “What else?”
“I think that I shall tell you I love you,” she whispered, so softly he hardly heard it. “I love Caesar, I love my rabbits, I love my mother and father, and I love you, too. Did you know that?”
He was stunned. He didn’t even know what to say so he simply shook his head. “Nay,” he breathed. “I did not know that.”
“Now you know.”
He stared back at her, overwhelmed. Christ, did she even realize what she had said? She was sick and tired and filled with a good amount of wine, but did she even understand what those three little words meant?
He took a step back and stumbled, trying to get a grip on himself.
Did she love him or was she simply running off at the mouth?
He didn’t know, but by God, he had to get the hell out of there and clear his mind.
If she did indeed love him then it would be too easy for him to…
.he bolted from the room like his arse was on fire.
By the time he had reached the common room, he was in control again, at least outwardly. David was waiting for him.
“Are we ready?” Christopher demanded, slamming on his helmet.
“Aye, we are,” his brother replied, then lowered his voice. “Chris, do you think it is such a good idea to leave Marcus in charge of Dustin? You saw how the man looked at her.”
Christopher cocked an eyebrow. “I see how you look at her, and how every man in my command looks at her,” he replied steadily. “I trust Marcus, David, as much as I trust you. He would never do anything so stupid as to forfeit his life.”
David didn’t reply. He was not keen on the idea of Marcus Burton protecting the lovely Lady Dustin, but any more words on the subject would make him appear too concerned.
Christopher had already accused him of having feelings for her once and he would not do anything to further justify those suspicions.
Slamming down his visor, he followed his brother out into the rain.
*
Three days later Dustin was fit to be tied.
Her fever had dissipated the first day, and the cough and runny nose were practically gone. Her guard dogs, Edward and Marcus and Dud, never let her from their sight. She was not even allowed to go outside into the new sunshine.
She wondered how Christopher was faring.
She was angry at him for not even saying goodbye to her and she would tell him that when given half a chance.
But to do that, she had to get to London, and she decided on the morning of the fourth day that they would leave that morn.
She was the baroness, wasn’t she? And they were her vassals.
Well, her husband’s vassals, but nevertheless, they would do her bidding.
She dressed carefully in a burnished gold surcoat, one Rebecca had made, with a plunging neckline and long sleeves.
She pulled the front of her long hair back and secured it at the back of her head with her ivory clip, and made sure the two maids packed everything into her trunks except the pretty brown cloak with the rabbit lining.
She would wear it because even though the sun was shining and the birds were singing, it was still quite nippy outside. Winter was in full swing.
She found Marcus and Edward downstairs in the common room, playing some sort of card game. Squaring her shoulders, she marched down the stairs and made her way purposely to their table.
The two knights rose when she approached, their eyes grazing her appreciatively. “Lady de Lohr, a pleasure,” Marcus said fondly.
She raised a dark brown eyebrow at him. “Marcus, I wish to go to London today. I am well and can travel, and I am sick of this little hovel. Can we go? Please?” She added the “please” purely for courtesy’s sake so she didn’t sound like a tyrant.
Marcus glanced at Edward, who was glad she had not focused her willfulness on him for once.
“Mayhap, my lady,” he replied. “Are you sure you are feeling well? No more cough?”
She shook her head hard. “No more cough. I am as healthy as a fat baby.”
Marcus sighed dubiously, glancing again at Edward for moral support, but was being ignored. He cleared his throat. “Very well, my lady. If you say you are well, then I shall take a lady’s word. We will leave whenever you are ready.”
She was fully prepared to argue with him, but his gracious acquiescence had her smiling. “I am ready now. Can we leave now?”
Marcus and Edward chuckled. “I suppose so,” Marcus said. “Can Edward and I gather our things at least?”
She nodded happily. The knights put away their cards and Edward threw open the door of the inn.
“Dud,” he called to the knight standing watch outside. “We leave within the hour. Move the men.”
The innkeeper, hearing that his most loyal customers were preparing to leave, rushed to the kitchen.
When he returned, he brought a plateful of delightful apricot and apple pastries, some glazed with honey.
Dustin’s eyes widened with delight and she downed the first gooey confection with glee.
When she started on her second, Edward admonished her gently.
“Not too much, my lady,” he said. “A full stomach and travel do not go well together ofttimes.”
She made a face at him and shoved another bite in her mouth. “What you mean to say is that if I eat too many, I shall become as fat as a pig.”
Both Marcus and Edward glanced at her voluptuous figure.
She was neither thin nor plump, but in the perfect state in between.
Her waist was pleasingly narrow, her hips generous and her breasts large and firm and round.
Aye, she was a flawless handful for any man.
Much better than those reed-thin, highbred noble wenches.
Dustin reeked of health and life and sensuality.
“I would doubt you could ever become fat,” Marcus said diplomatically.
Dustin shrugged, eating the last of the apricot pastry. “I suppose Chris would divorce me if I did become fat, or lock me away somewhere.”
Marcus laughed. “Nay, he would not. I’d take you even then. I rather like round women.”
She shoved him playfully and he missed the bite he was trying to put in his mouth, smearing it on his cheek instead.
She laughed loudly at his misfortune until he turned to her and smeared the rest of the goo on her chin.
She jumped back with a yelp, but her laughter overtook her and she was once again screaming with her delightful, happy laugh.
Edward stepped back. If this deteriorated, he did not want to get caught in the crossfire.