Chapter Forty-One #4
“Is that why you are here? To tell me you love me?” Dustin asked, then smiled ironically. “I do not want to hear this, Marcus. The only man I will ever love is dead, and I do not want anyone else. I am sorry you have come all this way for nothing.”
“Think on it, Dustin,” Marcus said softly. “I can offer you protection, companionship, and my undying devotion. And your daughter; I would be her father-figure.”
Dustin stiffened, flooded with memories of how much Christopher had loved his daughter.
“You shall never be her father, Marcus,” she said, rather angrily. “Her father is dead.”
“Mayhap so,” Marcus said hoarsely. “But I would love her as if she were my own.”
Her eyes snapped to him but she bit her tongue.
She didn’t want to argue with him and she surely didn’t want to hear of his proposal.
In fact, she felt nothing for the man as she gazed at him.
Not even friendship. There was no feeling at all.
As she stood there, trying to figure out how to get rid of him, Griselda brought Christin out into the bright sunlight and Marcus’ jaw dropped.
At six months old, the babe had his black hair and Dustin’s gray eyes. The old woman passed the child over to her mother and left the three of them standing in uncomfortable silence.
Marcus’ eyes were wide at the black-haired infant. “Dustin…?” he began timidly.
“I do not know!” Dustin snapped harshly, bouncing Christin when the baby whimpered at the sharpness of her mother’s voice. She softened her tone. “I do not know, Marcus.”
Marcus’ mouth was hanging open. “But… the hair. And the shape of her face,” he stammered.
“My mother had black hair,” Dustin shot back. “And her eyes and her face are as mine. She…she is Chris’ child, Marcus.”
He forced himself over the shock and approached the two of them, holding out a timid finger to which Christin gleefully latched on to.
“She has my hair,” he said softly.
Dustin did not answer. Marcus smiled at the baby and was rewarded with a wide grin, displaying two new teeth. “Can I hold her?” he asked.
Dustin bounced the baby a moment longer before reluctantly handing her over. Christopher had been very timid with his daughter at first; Marcus held her with great confidence that made her heart jump strangely. Christin grabbed his nose and stuck her hand in his mouth. He was delighted.
“What’s her name?” he asked.
“Christin,” Dustin replied sullenly, torn between Marcus’ joy in the babe and the guilt that was sweeping her.
“Christin,” Marcus repeated. “What a pretty name. Jesus, she’s beautiful. She looks just like you.”
Dustin looked away from him, emotions within her numb heart stirring again. Christin cooed and gurgled and Marcus was instantly attached to her. He continued to play with her even as Dustin meandered over to her hoe and picked it up. He watched her pick it up and begin scratching at the dirt again.
“Come home with me, Dustin,” Marcus said softly. “You shall love Somerhill. There are lots of children in the village and Christin would have playmates, and it would be a fresh start for you. Away from Lioncross and its memories.”
Dustin hoed haltingly at the thawing ground, her misery becoming evident. “I do not know, Marcus,” she whispered. “This is my home and I belong here. It is Chris’ home.”
“And look what it is doing to you,” he said with more firmness. “You are wasting away with grief. You must get away from this place.”
Her head snapped up and she prepared a sharp reply, but the sight of him holding her happy, gurgling daughter brought tears to her eyes and the hoe fell to the ground. As her hands went over her face, Marcus went to her and wrapped her in his free arm.
Dustin went to pieces. To feel a massive, strong, warm arm around her once again threw her back into Christopher’s arms and she allowed herself to imagine, for a second, that it was he who was holding her.
The more she wept, the tighter Marcus’ grip became and her arms found their way around his waist. She could hear him comforting her softly and felt him kiss the top of her head at least twice.
She also felt a different pressure on the top of her head and heard Marcus scolding Christin softly for eating her mother’s hair.
It was comical and she actually laughed, lifting her head to see that Marcus was smiling as well as he unwound her hair from Christin’s death grip.
Edward was standing by the kitchen door with a birds-eye view of what was going on in the garden. He could see Marcus holding Dustin and Christin, and he was seized with a great anger. Anthony and Jeffrey joined him.
“I want him gone,” Edward growled. “I do not care how, but I want him out.”
“Why?” Anthony asked. “He’s the only one who’s gotten Dustin to respond in any way. Look; she’s actually smiling.”
Edward gritted his teeth. “The bastard comes swaggering in here to collect Dustin as if she was a prize,” he seethed. “I shall not stand for it. And neither would Chris.”
“Chris would want her to be happy,” Jeffrey said quietly. “I have known Lady Dustin longer than anyone. If she wants to go with this Marcus, and in your judgment he is a just, fair man, then I know her mother would have no objection. She only wished for Dustin’s happiness also.”
“Marcus Burton has a reputation second only to Chris,” Anthony told him. “Richard loves the man. He is as fair and just as they come. But you never told me he was in love with her, Edward.”
Edward did not answer for a moment. “Verily,” he replied faintly. “As much as Christopher, at least. But she only had eyes for her husband, and now Marcus sees this as his opportunity.”
Anthony watched them for a moment before turning away. “If she will be happy with him, then I am sure Chris would approve.”
Edward shook his head, eyeing Marcus and Dustin menacingly. “She is Chris’ wife,” he said.
“And Chris is dead,” Jeffrey said, slapping him on the shoulder as he followed Anthony back into the kitchens.