Chapter Thirty-Five #5
“Do not threaten me,” he said quietly. “Come here and sit down before you upset yourself.”
“I will not,” she snapped, turning her back on him and marching from the room.
Christopher went after her, his boots clapping loudly on the stones as he pursued his wife to their bedchamber.
She slammed the door a few seconds in front of him, only to have it swing open violently and slam again, hard enough to rattle the furniture.
The knights looked at each other and shook then heads; another bout was about to begin between the baron and his enraged wife.
Dustin stormed to the other side of the room, completely ignoring Christopher as she began to dig through the wardrobe and throw his clothes all over the room.
He watched her with building irritation, but also with a certain amount of amusement; she could be very physical when riled, but her movements were so jerky and magnified that they were comical.
He had heard that pregnant women were often moody and volatile, but he honestly imagined Dustin more animated than she already was. He was wrong.
“What are you doing?” he asked calmly enough.
“Do not talk to me, you…you ogre,” she growled, yanking a tunic off her head that had inadvertently landed there.
“You are the meanest, nastiest man alive. I cannot believe how cold you were to my friend, and Deborah’s lover.
Gowen is a very nice man, but you wouldn’t know anything about being nice, would you? ”
He bit off a smile as her arms flailed about, determinedly tossing his clothes into a pile. “What are you doing with my clothes?” he asked.
“I told you not to talk to me!” She tugged roughly at a pair of lodged hose and nearly fell over when they suddenly pulled free. Christopher took several rapid steps to steady her, but she regained her feet and dashed away from him. “Don’t touch me!”
He put his hands on his hips. “Dustin, I have not seen you in six months,” he said. “Are we to spend our first night together quarreling?”
Her face was dark and pouting, but he saw a flicker of doubt in the gray eyes. “Well you…you should not have been so mean. Why were you so mean to him?”
“I was not mean; I never said a word to him,” he said, putting up a hand to silence her as he proceeded to explain.
“Sometimes, my lady, one can deduce a great deal by simply being still and watching. I simply sat and watched him as he reacted to you, to Deborah, to David and Leeton. There is nothing ‘mean’ about that. There is a great deal to learned about one’s character and behavior when facing a new situation. ”
“You made him terribly uncomfortable,” she insisted. “And Deborah, too. She was crying when she left.”
“I know, and for that, I am sorry,” he said sincerely, taking a step toward her. “But I want to observe her Gowen before I speak with him.”
“Why? To determine if he is worthy of your attention?” she said cynically. “Even I am not that prideful, husband. I do not think everyone is beneath me.”
“Nor do I,” he said, standing directly in front of her, gazing down into her face. “But it is undeniable that certain people have certain stations in this life. If I deem Gowen unworthy of our family, I will deny him.”
“You cannot,” she insisted but quickly caught herself, horrified that she almost slipped with the most private of secrets.
“I can, and I will if it is necessary,” he said evenly. “Now, I do not want to fight about this anymore. I want to walk about my keep, with you, and see what has happened to it in my absence.”
“Will you go and apologize to Gowen and Deborah?” she asked.
“To my sister, yes. But tonight will tell whether I apologize to Gowen or throw him out of my keep,” he said, tapping her chin with his forefinger.
Up on their bed, Caesar awoke and stretched a long, cat stretch. He yawned contentedly and licked his chops, his eyes focusing on his master and mistress and emitting a loud meow.
“So you awaken after the storm has passed, you wicked beast?” Christopher said. “Have you become acquainted with Harold yet? I forbid you to make a meal of him.”
Dustin smiled, rubbing her belly as the baby kicked. Christopher put his hand on her stomach, too.
“He’s so strong,” he said, the joy of the baby’s movements alight in his eyes. “He is not even born yet. Aye, this lad will be the most powerful knight that England has yet to see.”
“And fight with you?” she turned her sweet face up to him, her eyes soft and caressing. “I do not think I want my son to fight.”
“Why not?” he insisted. “ ’Tis well enough for your husband to fight. Why not your son?”
“Because,” she shrugged. “ ’Tis different, that’s all.”
He smiled, pulling her into an embrace. “Your motherly instincts are showing, Lady de Lohr. You cannot protect your child always.”
“I know,” she lay her head against his chest, sighing with contentment. Lord, she had missed him. “Chris, when are you returning?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his hands caressing her. “John is quiet now, holed up at Nottingham. I suppose whenever he moves again, I shall leave. But I fully intend to be here for the birth of my son.”
“But that is almost three months away,” she said.
He kissed the top of her head, not knowing what to say. Quite a lot could happen in three months.
*
The supper hour rolled around and the servants set out a splendid meal for their master returned.
The knights, having enjoyed a leisurely afternoon, appeared at supper bathed and dressed and fully intended to stuff themselves ill on the well-prepared food.
Dustin and Christopher were also finely dressed in celebration of Christopher and David’s return, and they sat down to a table loaded with delights.
The beef was a bit too rare for Dustin and Christopher laughed as he ordered it back to the kitchens, cooked until it was black so as to not upset his wife. Conversation was light and pleasant, the room fragrant and warm, as they waited for Deborah and Gowen to return.
And they waited. Christopher bade the men to go ahead and eat, irritated at his tardy sister. Everyone ate until they could hold no more, but Deborah and Gowen had yet to arrive and Christopher’s mood was darkening.
“She is probably heartbroken,” Dustin said, scolding her husband softly. “You’ll be lucky if she ever speaks to you again.”
He raised an eyebrow at her but remained silent, listening to Leeton relay an amusing story as he toyed with his goblet of wine.
It became ridiculously late and it was obvious that Deborah and Gowen were not going to show. By this time, Christopher had had enough and slammed his emptied goblet loudly on the table as he rose.
“Dustin, where does Gowen live?” he asked.
Her eyes widened at his authoritative tone. She’d only heard him use it in crisis situations.
“Why?” she wanted to know. “What are you going to do?”
“Answer me,” he returned firmly.
She stood up as well, eyeing him. “Christopher…..”
“Dustin, I am not going to kill the lad,” he assured her. “I simply want to know where he lives so I can retrieve my sister.”
She looked at him as if she did not believe him. “Then I shall go with you.”
Christopher motioned his knights up. “Nay, you will not,” he said. “You will go to bed and wait for me.”
“Nay, Chris,” she insisted. “If you fly into a rage, someone has to stop you. I forbid you to lay a hand on either of them.”
He gave her a reproachful gaze as his armor was brought to him by two young pages.
Other young boys had brought in the armor of the other knights and began to help them dress.
It always amazed Dustin how well Christopher’s men could read his mind; he’d not uttered a word to call for his armor, yet here the young boys were, ready to assist him.
The depth of fear and respect for the baron ran even to the lowliest of pages and she knew they hovered about, anticipating his every wish.
“ ’Tis not my intention to lay a hand on them, merely to bring Deborah home,” he said, bending down as his hauberk was slipped on. “Now tell me where he lives.”
She watched the pages work like busy, eager bees over her husband, removing his fine silk tunic and replacing it with the standard tunic and armor. She might as well tell him, for someone else easily would.
“On the southern tip of the village, near the monastery,” she said quietly. “The cottage is small and rundown, and there is always a light in the window.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
“Because his father works through the night,” she replied. “He does work for the monks.”
His eyes met hers for a moment as the little squire pulled Christopher’s gloves on. “Where do you think they are?”
She was surprised he would ask, for he always knew everything. She could not remember him ever asking her a question like that.
“I truly do not know,” she said. “But I do not think they will be at his cottage. Mayhap they are at the monastery.”
The page handed him his helmet and he plopped it on his head, adjusting the hauberk beneath it. His knights were dressed and awaiting orders.
“Go on to bed, sweetheart,” he said, accepting the sword that the squire was struggling to hold and moving around the table. “I shall return soon.”
Dustin nodded, watching Christopher and his men exit the front door of the castle and hearing the shouts as the destriers were brought around.
Indecision clutched at her, wanting to tell him of Deborah’s condition so he would not be too harsh with her, yet afraid to tell him for fear he would become enraged.
She stood in the archway, watching them mount their mighty warhorses and seeing the bailey come alive with soldiers and torches.
The massive gates began to unfold like a huge mouth, waiting to be fed.