Chapter Thirty-Eight
It was evident from the beginning that no child was ever loved more than Christin de Lohr.
Dustin dismissed the wet nurse after a week of service and insisted on caring for her daughter exclusively.
After all, she had birthed the babe and ’twas only right that she tend her.
Christopher tried to reason with her, but Dustin would not listen.
As usual, he let her have her way but kept a careful watch on her diet and sleep habits, not wanting her to tire herself.
But the spoiling and doting was equal from both parents.
Christopher would sit with the baby and rock her for hours, singing to her in his delightful deep baritone and Dustin would stand in the doorway and listen with tears in her eyes.
Deborah could not listen at all, the sweet tenderness of a father and daughter sent her sliding into sobs.
The shortening days of autumn were spent with his daughter when they should have been spent outside with his men, but he wasn’t overly concerned.
David and Edward were driving them like slaves and he knew they were being kept at the ready.
Christin would awaken every two hours during the night like clockwork and Christopher had made it his duty to collect the hungry babe and bring her to his wife for nourishment.
The pleasure and contentment he derived from watching his new baby tug at his wife’s breast was well beyond words.
He had oft wondered what true peace of soul and spirit was, and if he would ever achieve such a thing.
Watching little Christin suckle Dustin’s swollen nipple made him realize that he had achieved true contentment in life and had not even known it.
September passed into October and into November.
The snows came and they were all in the deep freeze, but inside Lioncross, there was always a warm fire blazing and food enough for all.
It was truly a place of happiness and love and Christopher was sure there was no better castle in all of England.
All of his life he had been searching for himself, and here he had found it.
Christmas came and Christin had turned into a fat, red-cheeked cherub with an infectious toothless grin.
Christopher adored the baby; she was rarely, if ever, out of his sight and he took to carrying her everywhere he went, much to Dustin’s irritation.
Christin was her daughter, too, and she was hardly ever allowed to hold her.
Fortunately for the irate mother, Christopher would not dream of taking the babe with him outside and during those times, Dustin bonded with Christin eagerly.
She almost felt the outsider the way Christopher demanded he be allowed to hold his daughter at all times.
But she wasn’t jealous, nor did she feel neglected, for the nights were theirs and theirs alone.
Christin finally started sleeping from dusk until dawn, and Christopher always made sure he reserved that space of time for his wife.
Most often, they would take a bath together, soaping each other sensually until the heat of passion would overtake them and they would make slippery-wet love to one another.
The first time Christopher had made love to her after Christin’s birth had been so sweet, she had cried with the pure joy of it.
And she felt in top form, too. Her luscious figure had returned better than before, she thought, and Christopher could not get enough of her.
She was so truly happy for the first time in her life that she had completely pushed John and Ralph and Richard out of her mind, for fear of hexing her good fortune.
She never wanted Christopher to leave her again and the thought of him returning to battle made her sick to her stomach.
But as time passed and Christin grew, quite another thing was turning her stomach into knots.
Christin was absolutely beautiful with dark, wavy hair and her mother’s huge gray eyes, and Dustin was verily pleased to see that she looked like her.
The eyes and the shape of her little mouth were definitely Dustin’s, but it was the color of the hair that upset her so.
With her and Christopher so blond, the dark-hair of the babe stood out obviously.
With every passing day, Dustin began to imagine she saw something of Marcus in the sweet baby face.
Foolish, she scolded herself, for her mother had possessed black hair and it was entirely possible that little Christin had inherited her grandmother’s dark hair. But the fear, the apprehension, and the overwhelming guilt plagued her.
Two days after Christmas, Dustin went out to the rabbit hutches to make sure the peasant boy had given the animals enough warm bedding and food.
Christopher had the babe, as usual, in the great hall.
Alexander had followed her out into the hellish cold, dancing around her feet to keep warm.
As she was poking into one of the cages, a figure came up beside her.
“It is awfully cold to be out here,” David said, his nose red with the ice. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure they do not freeze to death,” she said, slamming a little door closed and securing it. “I thought you were tending to the new men-at-arms?”
“I was,” David said. “But Edward and Leeton are drilling them in battle rules and I want no part of it. Where’s Chris?”
“Inside with Christin, where else?” she snorted. “Sometimes I think he loves her more than me.”
There was something in David’s eyes that met hers strangely. “I doubt it,” he replied evenly, then paused a moment. His gaze was intense on her as he spoke. “I know, Dustin.”
She blinked at him, tilting her head. “Know? Know what?”
He let out a hissing sigh, all of the friendliness gone from his face. “Jesus, do not lie to me,” he snapped. “You can lie to Chris because he loves you and he will believe anything you tell him, but for God’s sake, do not lie to me. I know.”
She honestly had no idea what he was talking about and her irritation grew. “Know what, David? What are you talking about?”
He suddenly grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh and she gasped. “You slept with Marcus, didn’t you?” he hissed. “Christin isn’t Chris’ child at all, she is Marcus’.”
Dustin’s mouth went agape. His words had hit her in the face like a slap and left her reeling, but she had the presence of mind to calm herself before she tore into him like a hurricane. Roughly, she tore her arm from his grasp and glared daggers at him.
“How dare you accuse me of infidelity,” she seethed. “Christin is Chris’ daughter, David, in spite of your wild imaginings. I cannot believe you would think so lowly of me.”
He grabbed her again, this time with both hands, and she struggled angrily with him.
“You are a liar and a whore,” David snarled. “Christin looks just like Marcus; admit it! She bears his dark hair. Explain how two blond people such as you and my brother can bear a dark-haired child!”
Dustin yanked free and slapped him hard across the face.
David responded by slapping her just as hard and sending her reeling.
She slammed into the rabbit hutch, grasping the first thing that came into her hand and swung it back at David with all her might.
The short piece of wood caught David in the neck and he grunted, a mighty gash in his flesh.
He put his hand to his skin, drawing it away sticky with blood.
“You bitch!” he hissed.
“I was defending myself!” she fired back at him, wielding the wood like a club.
“How dare you accuse me of such terrible atrocities! I cannot believe you would think such despicable things about me when I have never done anything to deserve such distrust. And who are you to confront me with such things? You are not my husband!”
He reached out and disarmed her, but not without a struggle. The log went sailing and Dustin backed away from him, preparing for the next barrage.
“Somebody has to confront you,” he growled. “Admit it. Christin is Marcus’ child. I knew it from the very moment I laid eyes on her that she was not of Chris’ loins.”
“You did not, because it is not true!” Dustin shrieked. “I swear to God I shall kill you for such lies, David.”
He charged at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her against the rabbit hutch. Dustin grunted and gasped, struggling in David’s grip, but it was like fighting iron.
“They are not lies,” he rumbled, his face close to hers.
“So help me, Dustin, I shall kill you before I allow you to hurt Chris. He is the mightiest knight since Galahad and you have already turned him into a soft, simpering fool who cares only for the comforts of his home and family. He used to be the toughest, mightiest warrior in all the world and I have watched him turn into a tender family man right before my eyes. Jesus, he was right all along. You will destroy him.”
Dustin’s fear-filled eyes gazed back at her brother-in-law, his words overwhelming her. The hatred, the hostility, frightened her and after a moment, she could only shake her head slowly.
“I will not, David,” she said, pain in her eyes. “I would never do such a thing.”
“You already have,” he spat with contempt, releasing her and stepping back, his big hands clenching nervously.
Dustin’s fear was overshadowed by her anger.
“Christin is his daughter, and I am his wife,” she said, trying to figure out what the motivation was behind his fury.
It was very unlike David. “If a family makes a man weak, then I suppose he is weak. Weak of his own choosing, David. I did not force it on him. If you want to be angry with someone, then be angry with him. I did nothing but love him and he chose to respond. I did not shove my affections down his throat like a stuffed goose.”
He turned away from her but she refused to let him go that easily. She was starting to make headway with him.