Chapter Sixteen
From where Ralph stood, he had a perfect view of Baron de Lohr and his wife as they wandered leisurely down to the stables. He watched them hug and laugh until they disappeared from view before turning to John, seated several feet away and sitting in front of a chess set.
“Well?” John asked, considering his next move.
“De Lohr and his wife,” Ralph told him. “Looks as if he will be taking her out for a ride.”
“I’d like to take her for a ride,” John mumbled suggestively, moving a piece. Ralph pushed himself away from the window and sat back down.
“What do we do now with Burton nonfunctional?” he asked, moving his knight.
John chewed his lip as he thought. “The bastard probably broke his hand himself,” he said.
“He gave me some lame excuse about a horse stepping on it. Why does this always happen to me? Just as I seem to gain the upper hand, disaster strikes. Waste of a perfectly good baronetcy for nothing. Well, now, de Lohr continues to be a problem.”
Ralph watched the prince make another move and began contemplating his own. “I am a firm believer in destroying the man at the source,” he said. “ ’Tis obvious that we can trust no one else for this task. He is quite fond of his wife, my lord. I suggest we start there.”
“What? Kill her? You used that threat on Burton but I did not believe you to be serious,” John replied. “She’s far too lovely to kill, Ralph, and I have not yet had a chance with her.”
“Nay, not kill her,” Ralph said. “But it would not be impossible to abduct her and spirit her far away. How could de Lohr focus on your destruction if he was consumed with worry for his wife?”
“De Lohr is out to destroy me, isn’t he?” John murmured, moving another piece. “Why else would he be here as Richard’s eyes and ears.” Suddenly, he stopped in mid-movement and looked at Ralph. “Do you believe it possible that Richard sent him here to kill me?”
“An assassin? ’Tis possible, I suppose, but knights as righteous as de Lohr are not keen on premeditated murder.
” Ralph countered the prince’s move. “Nay, de Lohr is here to spy on you and report back to your brother. With him distracted in the search for his wife, ’twill be much harder for him to spy on you. ”
“Sweet Jesus, what would we do without lovely little Lady de Lohr?” John murmured, moving his queen. “My brother unknowingly undermined his own mission by ordering de Lohr to marry the woman. Who would have known that he would have fallen in love with her?”
“How could he not?” Ralph moved his knight. “Check.” “She’s a thoroughly delectable piece of meat, not unnoticed by Burton or any other man who sees her.”
John sat forward, studying the board. “Which one of our loyalists holds the most fortified castle?”
Ralph thought a moment. “There are several, my lord,” he said.
“The trouble is de Lohr commands all of the crown’s troops, which total thousands of men.
Were he to use the force and attack the hold where his wife is being held, he could easily destroy the fortress and our vassal with it.
Nay, sire, if we abduct her, we must hide her until the time is right to use our leverage. ”
“Hide her where?” John, irritated he was losing, demanded.
Ralph sat back in his chair, drumming his fingertips against each other as his elbows rested on the arms of the chair. “Wales, Ireland, Scotland, France. Anywhere but England.”
John looked thoughtful for several moments.
He may have lost the game, but he had not lost the fight.
“I have a holding in South Glamorgan, in Wales. I saw it once; a Godforsaken, miserable piece of dung. St. Donat’s Castle sits on the coast among sharp cliffs and sheer mountains, a gloomy depressing place that is said to be haunted.
The caretaker is a member of the family that built the place and I obtained the castle.
’Twould be a perfect place to keep Lady de Lohr while her husband frantically scours England in search of her.
He’d never think to look in Wales, do not you agree? ”
“Absolutely, sire,” Ralph agreed. “Especially with winter coming, who would want to brave south Wales? We could keep her there comfortably for months.”
John was suddenly not so angry that he lost the game. His hard brown eyes found Ralph. “Make it so, Ralph. And no mistakes this time.”
Ralph nodded. “Trust me, sire. Lady de Lohr is as good as ours.”
*
Dustin waited patiently while her husband conversed with the stable master, looking about the stables with interest. Christopher had his back turned to her and she wandered a few feet away, watching the people and the children, hearing the dog’s bark and the horse’s bray.
Absently, she began to wander slowly, noticing everything and smiling shyly when a groom would give her a bow or a nod.
She stopped for a moment to admire a particularly beautiful black gelding, trading a few words with the groom before continuing on, completely forgetting about her husband.
She was filled with the stables and the smell of horses and hay.
She rounded a corner and paused to study the reddest chestnut she had ever seen when suddenly she heard tiny little squeaks, like pathetic whimpers.
The sounds grew louder and she followed them, mounting a ladder to the hay loft curiously.
It was there she found the source of the sounds, three tiny pups flailing about in the hay.
She cried out softly and crawled across the dried grass, taking the first friendly puppy she came upon and cuddling him sweetly. His brothers, seeing movement, stumbled toward her.
She studied the pups, noting from their teeth and eyes that they were five or six weeks old.
She cradled a short-legged blond puppy, while his siblings were black with white and all brown, respectively.
It was no time before they were crawling all over her, snagging her surcoat with their sharp baby claws and she was thoroughly delighted.
She wondered where the Mama dog was. The straw was dented and a little dirty, and the pups were thin.
She decided that the mother must have abandoned them and the pups were obviously too small to find their way down from the loft.
As she cuddled and cooed, she heard her name being shouted loudly.
“I am here,” she called out.
Christopher didn’t answer for a minute, marching into the stables with the rage of the devil. “Where?” he boomed.
“Up here,” she answered, looking down. He was directly below her.
He heard her voice and looked up, seeing her through the slats and the hay. “What in the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Dustin, you know better than to wander off.”
“Come to the ladder,” she said softly. “And hold up your hands.”
“What?” he scowled, putting his hands on his hips.
“Please, Chris, just come to the ladder,” she said, picking up all three pups. “Hold up your hands.”
With a snort of annoyance, he came around and mounted the first step of the ladder, holding up a hand as requested. Dustin scooted to the edge of the opening and handed the first puppy, the black and white one, down into his mailed glove.
“Christ,” he hissed, clutching the puppy quickly to him so he would not drop it. “What is this?”
She put her feet on the top rung of the ladder, holding two puppies in one hand. “I found them up here. Their mother must have abandoned them. Aren’t they cute?”
“Delightful,” he said dryly, noticing that she was trying to descend the ladder with one of her hands occupied. “Hold, lady. Give me those mongrels before you fall and break your neck.”
Carefully, she handed the other two down to him and quickly descended the ladder; gently taking back the pups she had given him. He continued to hold the black and white one, eyeing it critically.
“And what, I am afraid to ask, are you planning to do with these rats?” he asked sternly.
She turned her wide, innocent eyes to him. “Keep them, of course. I miss Caesar so much, and holding them helps ease the pain a little.”
He bit his tongue. Every negative word he was about to say simply slipped away and he could not deny her. Exasperated at her, and at his own weakness, he put his huge hand on her back and guided her from the stable.
“Where will they sleep? Surely not in our bed,” he said.
“Nay, I will make them beds of their own,” she said, rubbing noses with little blond puppy. “I think I will call this one Alex, in honor of Alexander the Great. And this one,” she nuzzled the brown puppy with the long legs, “I will call Cabal.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “King Arthur’s dog? A sound name, though he does not look deserving enough.”
She pursed her lips at him in irritation and gazed fondly on the little black and white mutt cradled in her husband’s massive hand. “And that one, I will name Harold.”
“After King Harold, no doubt,” he muttered, then looked at the wriggling little pups. “Al, Hal and Cab. What a trio.”
He snickered as she protested strongly, though not without cracking a smile. “You will not call them that,” she demanded. “You will call them by their proper names.”
He ignored her, lifting the pup he held against his chest so he could look at the little black-and-white face. “How goes it with you, Hal? Do not think to overrun my house like that vicious beast disguised as a cat does. You will know your place or I will have roast dog for sup.”
“Do not say that,” Dustin admonished, laughing loudly when Harold licked Christopher’s nose.
Christopher, goaded by her laughter, kissed her soundly on the lips and smeared puppy saliva on her cheek.
Dustin giggled, licked her lips, and returned the kiss.
Christopher almost forgot about the dog and pulled her to him with his free hand, his lips sweetly invading hers.
They were about to become even more involved when someone shouted his name.
They looked up to see Edward approaching, smiling but puzzled as he came up on them.
“What is this?” he pointed at the pups.