Chapter Seventeen #3
“Who was it that was yelling at me like a serving wench at a cockfight?” he asked, unlatching his helmet and pulling it free of his sticky head.
“Who do you think?” Dustin grinned down at him. From where she was standing, his head was level with her thighs.
Broadsword and helmet in one hand, Christopher pulled his wife off the dais, hugging her around the knees as he carried her one-armed across the arena.
Dustin squealed with delight, bracing her arms on his broad shoulders and waving goodbye to her new friends.
He set her down when they had reached the safety of his camp.
“My puppies,” she insisted. “They are still over there.”
“They will be well watched,” he told her, glancing at the soldiers that were still under the awning. “Who were you talking to?”
He held out his arms to her and she removed his hauberk, glancing at the squire when he whisked it away.
“Lady Gabrielle de Havilland,” she said. “Her husband is the Earl of Fenwark. The other woman is the earl’s sister, the Lady Isobelle.”
“You will not speak with her anymore,” he said, holding up his arms while his squire unstrapped his sword.
“But why?” Dustin demanded earnestly. “I like her.”
Christopher didn’t reply until the sword and gauntlets were off. Then, he pulled his wife aside, under a young oak where they were allowed some privacy.
“Because her husband is very loyal to the prince,” he said quietly. “Did she ask you anything? What did you speak of?”
“Nay, she didn’t ask me anything in particular,” Dustin replied. “And we spoke of little things, really. The only thing she said in regard to the prince was that she heard Marcus would be championing him in the tournament tomorrow.”
“What did you say?” he pressed.
“That he was injured,” she answered, eyeing him. “We were having such a nice talk and she never pressed me for any information. Why can’t I be her friend? I do not have any friends in London.”
“There are plenty of other women you could become acquainted with,” he said. “But not her. You will stay away from Lady Gabrielle.”
Dustin crossed her arms stiffly and pouted. “I do not want to become acquainted with any other women. I like Lady Gabrielle and I do not care if her husband is bloody Lucifer himself. Why must you think that everyone is so subversive?”
“Because they are,” he said flatly. “Do not argue the point with me, Dustin.”
She frowned and leaned against the tree, ignoring him. He watched her for a moment before resting a big arm on an overhead branch and bending down to kiss his wife on the nose.
“Do not scowl like that,” he said softly, with a smile.
She stuck her tongue out at him for an answer and he laughed deep in his throat. “Careful, lady,” he cautioned. “One might consider that to be a proposition.”
She smiled faintly in spite of herself, but she was still frustrated. “I promised Lady Gabrielle that I would introduce her to you.”
“Out of the question,” he said without missing a beat, his gaze still soft on her.
Dustin felt herself melting with his look and decided to use it to her advantage, she knew she could not keep up the stiff front for much longer. Her arms wound around his neck and he hugged her close, although she pulled back when he tried to kiss her.
“Oh, why cannot we be friends? Why do not you at least meet her before you pass judgment,” she said, making sure she was very close but dodging his lips every time he moved for her. “She said you were handsome and gorgeous.”
“And she is correct,” he said, finally capturing her lower lip between his own. “But I will not meet her.”
“You are not fair, Chris,” she whispered as his lips suckled hers.
“Fair?” he whispered back, kissing her chin. “Fair is not having to watch over my wife every moment for fear that someone will harm her. Fair is trying my damnedest to keep you safe when others would see you come to tragedy. Not much in this life is fair, lady.”
“Lady Gabrielle would not harm me.” She was having a difficult time keeping her train of thought as his lips moved to her neck.
“Not another word, Dustin.” He said it so seductively she didn’t know if he meant Lady Gabrielle or just in general. To be safe, she shut up and let his mouth devour her throat and shoulders.
Behind them, someone cleared his throat loudly and Christopher’s head came up from the swell of her bosom, his expression less than tolerant. David’s expression was unwavering.
“John is in the stands,” he said.
“What’s he doing?” Christopher asked.
“Sitting with that woman Dustin was sitting with and fondling the puppies,” his brother replied.
“My puppies!” Dustin cried softly.
Christopher shushed her. “We shall go and get them,” he said evenly before returning his attention to his brother. “Where’s Marcus?”
“Talking to John,” David answered.
“Damn,” Christopher hissed.
Dustin followed her husband around the group of trees and back across the arena where the prince and Sir Ralph were indeed sitting with Lady Gabrielle and Lady Isobelle.
Ralph had one of the puppies by the scruff of the neck, inspecting it carelessly, and Dustin had to bite her tongue to keep from yelling at the man.
Even as they approached, she could see Marcus grabbing onto the remaining wandering pup and holding onto it for safekeeping.
“I shall thank you to hand over my wife’s pets,” Christopher said coolly, taking Harold from Marcus and handing him to Dustin.
The prince gazed disinterestedly at Christopher, still clutching Alex as he continued his conversation with the two ladies. Ralph, however, extended Cabal as if the animal were contaminated somehow.
“Common gutter beasts the pets of a noblewoman?” he said haughtily. “How distasteful.”
“Coming from another gutter beast, I am sure the pups are not offended,” Dustin snapped, her gray eyes glittering. “Give me my dog.”