Chapter Thirty-Six #2
“She was more boy than most boys, you know,” Gowen went on.
“She could fight, run, and swim… anything. All of the boys in the village loved to be around her, and she thought it was because they accepted her as one of their own, when in fact it was because she was so beautiful that they simply wanted to gaze upon her.”
“Yet no one was truthful with her,” Christopher said. “Even when she became of age?”
Gowen smiled weakly. “And risk getting our nose broken? I think not. She could be your very best friend in the entire world, yet at the same time, your biggest fear.”
“Fear? Why?” Christopher stood up.
“Because she is nearly perfect,” Gowen replied. “Isn’t that reason enough for fear? Dustin Barringdon was something above the rest of us mortals, my lord, somewhere in that mystic realm of fairy princesses and legends. She was not meant for any of us mere peasants to have.”
Christopher gazed down at his wife’s head. “Yet, I have her.”
“ ’Tis right you should have her,” Gowen insisted. “You are Richard’s warlord and deserving of such a woman. But, in faith, when I heard she had married, I laughed with pity for the fool who had been brave enough to marry her. Surely he had no idea what she-devil he had been saddled with.”
Christopher’s cool demeanor cracked in the slightest and he grinned faintly. “And you thought not to warn me?”
Gowen smirked smugly. “Some lessons in this life must be learned the hard way,” he said.
“When I heard rumor that you were a favorite of Richard, I assumed your life had been an easy one and found fiendish delight with the thought of the unmanageable Dustin as your wife. But I see that I was wrong, for she obviously cares for you a great deal. You are all she could speak of while you were away.”
Christopher stood behind the chair, looking down on Dustin as she slept. “We missed each other,” he said simply.
“I know,” Gowen said softly, his eyes trailing to Deborah once again. His smile faded. “She looks like a prisoner tied to the bed like that.”
Christopher looked to his sister. “ ’Tis necessary that we keep the blood away from the wounds to allow them to scab over.”
“I realize that, but it looks so barbaric.” Gowen rose from his seat and went over to Deborah, his eyes trailing the length of her long, slim body. “I worry for the child.”
“Dustin tells me the village has a midwife; I will send for her this day,” Christopher told him.
Gowen raised an eyebrow. “That woman? She is more witch than midwife. She has fairly convinced Dustin that she bears the next emperor.”
“Is that so?” Christopher glanced at his wife, not as confident about her health and the baby as he was just a moment prior. “A witch, you say?”
“A charlatan,” Gowen said firmly. “I cannot stand her near Deborah, but the old crone is very convincing and tells the women what they want to hear.”
Christopher was growing increasingly concerned. “Then I will refuse the woman admittance to my keep,” he said. “There are no other midwives in the village?”
“A few with lesser reputations,” Gowen replied. “None that I would trust with Deborah’s life or the life of our child, yet the choice is nil.”
“Like hell,” Christopher grumbled. “There was a woman who took care of my wife when she had her accident last year, an excellent midwife. I will send one of my knights to Windsor to retrieve her. I will trust the life of my wife and child to no sorceress.”
“A wise decision, baron,” Gowen said, relieved. “How fortunate I am that my brother-in-law can command even mighty Windsor to do his bidding.”
Christopher lifted an eyebrow in agreement; angry Dustin could be so naive as to believe the tales of a witch.
He was greatly concerned for the child now, knowing the midwife to be an imposter, but resisted the urge to awaken and scold his wife.
With Deborah’s injuries, it would not be wise to upset her further.
But he would bide his time until the moment was right.
Christopher and Gowen spent a great deal of time alone together, watching their respective sleeping wives, speaking of things small and large.
They grew to know each other bit by bit, and even after David joined them with the morning meal, continued their deeply philosophical conversation about the morality of Hadrian’s invasion.
David, way out of his league, dozed off in a chair.
Christopher discovered rapidly that his new brother-in-law was indeed a sharp man.
Well-read and opinionated, Christopher found himself greatly enjoying the intellectual conversation.
Of his knights, Edward and mayhap Leeton were the only two he could hold a truly intelligent conversation with, for the rest, including his brother, were not as bright.
David was an outstanding soldier and lived for the battlefield, but he was lacking in deep intelligence.
Christopher thought at one point, with humor, that if he could combine David and Gowen into one man, he would have the greatest warrior in the world.
Toward noon, Dustin awoke and began moving, groaning as she did so. Christopher looked at her with concern.
“What is wrong?” he demanded.
“Ohhh,” she groaned again, twisting her body gingerly. “My entire body is sore. I can hardly move.”
Grinning with relief, Christopher held out his hand. “Let me help you, then.”
He pulled her out of the chair, steadying her as she gazed over at Deborah. “Has she awoken?” she asked.
“Nay,” Christopher replied. “Are you hungry?”
“A little,” she said. “But I would rather have a bath.”
“Go take one, then,” he said gently. “I shall join you in a few minutes.”
Dustin nodded wearily, straightening her surcoat and moving for the door. She passed by David, unconscious in a chair and snoring like thunder. With an irritated purse of the lips, she smacked him on the side of the head.
David jumped, disoriented, until he saw his sister-in-law’s scowling face. “What was that for?” he demanded.
“For waking me up, you lout,” she snapped. “Good lord, you snore louder than anyone I have ever had the misfortune to hear.”
“Ha!” David sneered. “Look who is accusing me of snoring? You would wake the dead with your snoring.”
Outraged, Dustin slugged him in the arm hard enough to make him wince. “I do not snore,” she cried. “What a terrible thing to say.”
David rubbed his arm, looking to his brother for support. “Am I wrong? Am I wrong?”
Christopher turned away, a smirk on his face. “ ’Twas a most unsavory thing to say, David, right or wrong.”
Dustin punched him again for good measure and quit the room.
David rubbed his arm where Dustin had smacked him, eyeing his brother. “As always, your support is appreciated, brother,” he said sarcastically.
Christopher snorted. “She only slugged you. If I were to have agreed with you, ’tis more than likely she would do a great deal more to me.”
“And you fear retribution?” David asked. “Since when?”
“Since I married her,” he said, glancing at Gowen who smirked knowingly.
David shook his head, standing up to stretch the stiffness out of his sculpted body. “And I say I have had enough of both of you. I am going down to the practice field.”
Christopher waved him off, feeling pretty damn tired and stiff himself with an entire night of standing. Deborah’s breathing was even and her pulse steady, but she had yet to wake. He pondered whether or not she ever would.
“I shall leave you here with my sis…..your wife, then,” he said, crossing for the door. “I will not go far and expect to be notified immediately if she awakens.”
“As you wish, sire,” Gowen replied, sinking wearily into the nearest chair.
Christopher paused at the door. “You may address me as Christopher in private. To call me sire seems stiffly formal, and I would hope that tonight we have gone beyond such prescribed standards.”
Gowen nodded. “It has been an eventful night, I will concur. And I appreciate the gesture.”
Christopher nodded weakly and left to join his wife.
*
Griselda Warwick and Burwell rode in with Sir Nicholas and Anthony exactly eleven days later.
Darren, the young squire, had also ridden escort.
His mother had been thrilled to see her only son, but his visit was concluded and he, too, was anxious to return to Christopher.
He was positive his liege could not get along without him.
Dustin was in the bailey with the dogs when the party rode in.
She smiled at Anthony and Darren, flirting with the young man as he dismounted until his face was as red as a beet.
She laughed at him, glad to have him in their midst again.
Griselda, seeing Dustin’s advanced state, hopped off her wagon faster than she should have and scolded her for being out and about.
Dustin laughed at the old woman. “I have got two more months to go, Griselda. I feel fine.”
Griselda passed a well-practiced eye over Dustin’s body. “If I did not know better, I would say you had two or three weeks to go at the very most. You are far too large for only six and a half months.”
Dustin’s smile faded, turning into simmering horror.
It simply wasn’t poss….No. She stepped back from the woman, suddenly seized with apprehension such as she had never known.
She had to be only six and a half months pregnant, for that is when she and Christopher had made love for the first time after her accident.
But her encounter with Marcus had been a full five weeks before that.
Try as she might to suppress the knowledge, in the recesses of her mind, Marcus Burton fought to make himself known. It could not be Marcus’ child!
“Nay!” Dustin burst, drawing looks from everyone around her. “This child is due around the first of November and you shall not say otherwise.”
Griselda, undaunted, took Dustin’s arm and noticed she was shaking. “Come inside now, my lady. I shall make you a soothing brew of chamomile and rosehips. Come on, now.”