Chapter Twelve #3
They turned to go, except Edward. Christopher nodded to him, silently telling him that all would be well. Edward closed the door softly behind him.
When the men were gone and the room empty, Christopher ran his hands through his hair, a weary, defeated gesture. As much as he vowed he would not bend to her, he could not leave her like this.
“Open the door, Dustin,” he sounded curiously as if he were begging. “I just want to talk to you, I promise.”
“Nay!” she wept.
“Please?” Now he was begging. “I swear, I only want to speak with you. Please open the door.”
He thought he was going to have to break the door down and was amazed when it swung open quietly.
He waited a moment before pushing it all the way open just to make sure she wasn’t lying in wait for him with a club or broken chair leg.
He spied her sitting quite calmly on the bed, her tears dried and her hair in place.
In fact, she looked stunning and he was completely off guard.
He stood by the door, eyeing the destruction of the room. He was hard pressed to admit that her anger mattered to him, that he didn’t want her to be angry with him.
“I am sorry you heard that,” he offered finally. “I did not mean to upset you so.”
“You blame me,” she said in a scratchy voice. “You blame me for everything, don’t you? For Marcus, for David, for everything.”
“Nay, Dustin, I do not blame you,” he said softly. “You have no control over your beauty or your charms, and being men, they naturally succumb.”
“But you do not,” she whispered.
“That is not true,” he said firmly. “I am very, very fond of you. You are my wife.”
Her head came up, her eyes dark with hurt. Oh, why did she have to be so tormented by his words? She was stupid, foolish and completely out of control….and she didn’t care. Her pride was already damaged. She could not suffer much greater shame.
“My father and mother loved each other,” she whispered. “If I ever had a husband, I hoped that someday we would grow to love each other, too. You love David, and Edward, and the others. You even love Richard. But you cannot love me, and it pains me. I should not care, but I do.”
Her words reached into his chest and grabbed hold of his heart, twisting and squeezing until it was bled dry.
“Do you love me?” he whispered.
Her fierce pride was badly wounded. “I do not know… I think so. Otherwise, why would I hurt so?”
He could not stop himself from reaching out and pulling her soft hand to his lips, kissing her fingers until she started to cry again, softly. It was a painful and tender moment for them both.
“All things take time, Dustin,” he murmured.
“Especially love. ’Tis the most difficult of emotions to achieve and the most difficult to be rid of.
The kind of love I feel for my brother and for my knights is nothing compared to the love I would feel for my wife.
For you. But I never expected to marry, much less love the woman I married. ”
“You are speaking in riddles,” she sobbed.
He was. Damnation, he was. Christ, he knew he loved her. He could not remember when he hadn’t and the revelation of it nearly blew his mind to cinder. But he simply could not bring himself to spit it out. No one, not even Dustin, must ever know his weakness.
He was suddenly on her, his mouth sucking her lips with blinding ferocity.
She cried harder, responding to him, aching with her need and her confusion.
Why did he kiss her so when he didn’t even love her?
Mayhap he sought to comfort her, or to comfort himself, but all he was succeeding in doing was confusing her even more and she suddenly tore away from him, flailing off the bed until she stood unsteadily several feet away.
“Don’t,” she said, her whole body shaking violently. “Don’t kiss me like that.”
He sat on the bed, gazing at her with a look she had seen before, always before he made love to her. It was an expression that usually weakened her, but not now.
“Why?” he pleaded. “Dustin, what do you want me to say that will make things well between us again? Is it that you want to hear me tell you that I love you? Would that make things right again?”
She shook her head. “Even if you were to tell me that, I’d know you were lying.
” She put her shaking hand to her lips. “I have been so stupid; stupid enough to believe that I could be happy in this marriage. But it appears that our marriage will go the way of so many others, whereon we will simply tolerate each other. Even so, I seem to have driven a wedge between you and your men, and mayhap for that you will grow to hate me.”
“Dustin, Dustin,” he sighed softly. “I told you I care for you deeply, and I do. I thought you were happy. I know I have never been happier, yet in the same thought I have never been more confused. If you are not happy, what is it you want from me?”
“Nothing,” she said shortly, moving to the dressing table and smoothing at her hair. “They are expecting us downstairs.”
Her back was stiff, her manner reminiscent of the first day he had met her. Cold. Hard. Distant. His stomach twisted with regret and sorrow.
“Do not do this,” he said softly. “Please… don’t.”
“Do what?” She turned to him, her look innocent. “I am Lady de Lohr in name and body, and I will act the part. That is all you want from me, anyway, isn’t it? What did you call me once ‘additional baggage?’”
He let out a hissing curse. “And I also told you that I was sorry I said that,” he snapped. “You are not additional baggage, Dustin. Damnation, woman, I’d take you over that bloody keep any day of the week.”
Her eyes widened but she controlled her reaction. She knew how much Lioncross meant to him and for him to make that declaration astonished her. She should have been deeply flattered, but she wasn’t. She was still stinging from his words to Edward and they were the only thing that filled her mind.
She lowered her gaze. “I am hungry. Let us go downstairs.”
He stared at her a moment, knowing that would be the only reaction he would get from her.
She was deeply hurt and he had only himself to thank for that.
He could right it if he were strong enough, but he wasn’t.
He simply wasn’t strong enough to open his heart fully to her and risk the destruction of his soul.
*
Christopher and Dustin entered the cathedral-sized great hall of Windsor Castle with great flourish.
As Christopher knew it would be, every man in the room turned to stare at his wife as they passed by on their way to the head table.
Everyone knew Christopher and had heard he had married, but this was the very first anyone had seen of lovely Lady Dustin de Lohr.
Dustin was awed by the spectacle before her but tried not to show it.
She tried to be as expressionless and aloof as possible, but it was difficult not to let her eyes wander over the magnificent trappings of the hall.
And the people, Lord, the people were dressed finer than any she had ever seen and she thought that surely even Heaven could not be this resplendent.
Christopher didn’t say a word to her as he led her to the table and seated her between David and himself. The knights had all risen respectfully as she entered the hall, their gazes never wandering from her or their liege. They were, in fact, surprised to see her at all.
Dustin actually smiled at them as Christopher pulled out her chair, noticing that several seats down were Prince John and Sir Ralph, and they both smiled seedily at her. She quickly averted her gaze and took her seat.
The room was abuzz with conversation as the servants brought out the first of several courses.
Various boiled vegetables were set in front of Dustin and, her stomach being twisted in knots, made no move to eat them.
Christopher and the other men dove into their food with gusto, but Dustin found her attention still drawn to the entire room and its occupants.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Christopher asked softly.
“Later,” she said, not looking at him.
He continued with his food and Dustin continued to ignore him, noticing how the women were variously dressed and thinking that she did fit in, at least somewhat.
She was so caught up in her observations of women with sleeve cuffs that trailed so long that they went all the way to the floor that it took her several minutes to notice a particularly solicitous serving wench on the other side of her husband.
The woman, a bit older than herself, had been hovering over Christopher since the meal began, refilling his goblet and offering him her apron to wipe his beard with.
He was ignoring her for the most part, but Dustin flared with jealousy.
Hurt or no, angry or no, no serving wench was going to lust after her husband.
She shot out of her chair, her face flushed with fury, and grabbed the unfortunate woman by the hair.
Christopher was hit in the back of the head by the struggling women, astonished to hear his wife’s calm, low voice as she called the wench every insulting name she could ever think of as she led her away from the table and towards one of the exit doors. There was no mistaking her meaning.
Christopher and his men watched as Dustin practically threw the girl from the room and then returned to the table as if she had done nothing more than have a pleasant conversation with the wench.
Calmly, she reclaimed her seat and picked up her spoon.
Everyone exchanged stunned glances as she, quite calmly, resumed eating.
“Would you mind telling me what that was all about?” Christopher asked her.
She took a mouthful of vegetables. “I did not like the way she was serving you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “So you bodily removed her from the room?”
She fixed him with a hard gaze. “I did, and I shall do the same thing to any other wench who tries to ‘serve’ you.”
He did grin, then. “Dustin, I am…flattered.”
“Don’t be,” she snapped. “I am your wife and am simply protecting my honor.”