Chapter Forty-Two #3
Dustin was stunned at the swift, decisive movement of the collective group.
There were so many of them that it was a truly awesome sight to behold, and her eyes widened in astonishment.
Every man was on his knees before her, some with their faces turned toward her, some with their heads bowed reverently in prayer.
Dustin’s chest swelled with pride, wishing Christopher could be here to see the show of force.
A smile crept onto her lips, a smile of pleasure and genuine hope.
She could feel the respect coming forth and touching her, silently enveloping her weary body and helping to heal the gaping hole in her heart left by her husband’s passing.
Strange that it took no words, no magic, and no medicine to start the healing process.
A simple gesture, mighty as it was, became the catalyst.
It was completely silent, the only sounds being the nighthawk that was riding a draft somewhere high above.
The sun sunk lower in the sky and a faint breeze had picked up, but Dustin stood frozen to the spot as the knights of Richard’s realm paid mute homage to her fallen husband.
Behind her, she heard sniffles and she recognized the source.
“Gowen,” she said softly without turning around. “Get Christin. Hurry.”
Frozen for a moment in time, she was entranced by the overwhelming support and continued to gaze back at the men until Gowen finally appeared at her side, holding Christin.
Dustin took her daughter into her arms, murmuring softly and pointing to the bailey below, filled with hundreds of silent, powerful knights.
The baby chewed her fingers, wide-eyed. Dustin took the steps, coming upon Edward and Marcus, who had kneeled with the rest of them. In fact, they had all kneeled, even Richard, and when she came upon him, he took her hand and kissed it genteelly.
“Lady de Lohr,” he said hoarsely. “Am I to assume this is Chris’ daughter?”
“Her name is Christin, sire,” Dustin answered.
Richard rose unsteadily to his feet, alternately eyeing her and the baby. Finally, he held out his hands. “May I?”
She handed the baby to him and the first thing Christin did was stick her finger in his eye. Richard laughed loudly and kissed the tiny fingers.
“She is beautiful,” he responded, handing her back to Dustin. “I can see Chris in her face most definitely. Arthur would be proud, my lady.”
Dustin nodded graciously, deeply pleased and in awe of the king’s presence. Richard’s gaze was open on her. “I came to meet you, Lady Dustin, and to extend my condolences on the passing of your husband.”
“Thank you, sire,” Dustin answered softly.
Behind him, Sir Philip rose from his crouch and smiled faintly at her, and Dustin instantly saw the family resemblance.
“You must be Sir Philip,” she said. “Chris told me so much of you, I feel as if I have known you a lifetime.”
“An honor to meet you, my lady,” Philip replied.
Dustin glanced down at Philip’s side and saw David’s bowed head.
Forgiveness filled her and she knew now that whatever had happened in the past, it had been foolish and ridiculous.
She and David had always liked each other a great deal and the tiff had been a freakish event.
She realized that now, for suddenly she realized everything with a clear, solid mind.
Christopher was dead and she was forever altered, but life would continue and she was somehow stronger for it.
Her strength was in the love they had once shared and for the character he had built in her through his devotion. She understood that now.
She moved past Richard and Philip and touched the top of David’s head.
“David,” she said softly. “Get up and greet your niece. It has been a long time since she saw you last.”
He raised his head. His entire face was wet with tears. Dustin shushed him softly, encouraging him to his feet and then falling into his embrace. Against her, David let loose with his sobs as she whispered comfortingly to him. Forgiveness was more, and better, than he had ever hoped for.
Not releasing David, she turned back to Richard. “Sire, we have refreshments for you and your party. Would you please come in?”
Richard smiled at her and cupped her chin gently between his fingers. She gazed up at him, watching his face ripple with emotion. At thirty-eight years old, he looked much older and haggard from his tumultuous life.
“I understand Chris found love with you, my lady,” he said softly. “I can see why.”
She flushed, the first color to her cheeks in weeks. Passing Christin to Marcus, she took Richard’s arm and escorted him inside.
As Richard and Dustin headed for the keep, David didn’t move. His gaze was on Marcus, as hostile and confrontational as ever. Marcus met his gaze, steadily, feeling the tension between them explode.
“How long have you been here?” David finally asked.
“Over a week,” Marcus replied steadily.
David’s jaw ticked. “You couldn’t even wait until my brother was cold in his grave, could you?”
Marcus didn’t want a fight on his hands, not with Christin in his arms, so he kept his manner calm. “It is not like that, David. Give me more credit than that.”
David wouldn’t back down. “Then you can leave; now.”
Marcus’ jaw ticked. “Not without Dustin. She is returning with me to Somerhill.
David’s nostrils flared but he kept his cool because of Christin. “No,” he said flatly. “She is staying here.”
Marcus did not reply, knowing that if anymore were said it could result in raised voices and frighten the baby. He simply turned away from David and started back toward the house when a knight nearby called out to him.
“Lord Marcus?” The man stood up, taking a step forward. “I am Sir John de Monfort. I served with you and Lord Christopher during the siege of Acre.”
Marcus nodded coolly. “I remember you. A fine knight.”
The man nodded. “Thank you, my lord. I was wondering…the babe. She is Lord Christopher’s, is she not?”
Marcus looked at the baby in his arms, who was still chewing furiously on her fingers. “The Lady Christin de Lohr.”
The knight nodded faintly. Without another word, he approached Christin and fell to one knee, touching her little foot and bowing his head in a silent prayer.
Abruptly, he rose and wandered off, but immediately behind him was another man to take his place.
Marcus soon realized that the entire group of knights were falling into line to pay their respects to Lady Christin.
David stood behind him as the knights filed past, some touching her foot, some gently touching her head, and simply others making the sign of the cross before her and murmuring a prayer.
And still others placed small medallions in her little hands, bright objects for her to play with, which were undoubtedly expensive.
Marcus was silent, protective, and deeply touched on Christopher’s behalf.
Christin, being the good-natured baby that she was, thought all of it was great fun and cooed and babbled the entire time.
She would grab the hair of the men who bowed before her or reach out and snag a piece of tunic.
More than once Marcus had to pry her hands free of someone, to which she would scream baby talk and wave her wet hands angrily at him.
More than once, she batted him in the face with her wet fingers, leaving damp streaks. But Marcus didn’t flinch.
David, watching his niece with her developing personality, could not help thinking just how much like her mother she was.
The more he watched her, the more he realized how very wrong he had been; except for the hair color, she looked nothing like Marcus and he, too, was beginning to see Christopher in her features.
He only wished his brother were alive so he could tell him so.
The knights camped in and around Lioncross that night, their bonfires sending eerie blobs of fire glowing into the blackness of the March night. Each man felt closer to the Defender, walking the very earth that Baron de Lohr had come to love so well.