Chapter Forty-Six #3
“And you shall, starting tomorrow,” he told her firmly. “You need to relax and collect yourself. Christin is in good hands, I promise.”
She gave him a doubtful raise of the eyebrows and he took her arm, leading her up a flight of stone stairs that clung to a massive wall and opened up onto the second floor.
At the very end of the corridor, he took her into a spacious bedchamber with the biggest bed she had ever seen in the middle of it.
Over near a great carved fireplace was a large copper tub, and the girl that was busying herself next to it stopped abruptly and curtsied.
“My lady, I am Sara,” she said rather boldly. “Your bath is ready.”
Dustin eyed the room before her gaze fell on the servant.
She was about her own age with bright red hair and a long face.
Marcus was focused on Dustin’s beautiful face as she absorbed the room, the new sights and atmosphere.
He fully realized he had both hands on her protectively, although Dustin wasn’t even aware of it.
“I should get my men settled,” he told her. “Will you be all right for a while?”
Dustin moved to undo her cloak. “Of course,” she said. “Where did Iris take Christin?”
“Probably to show her off to the servants and then, I would imagine, she will settle her very close to your room.” He could see she was lost without her daughter and he smiled, kissing her on the cheek. “She is fine. Do not worry so much.”
“I am not,” Dustin insisted with a shrug.
He laughed softly at her and quit the room, leaving her feeling strange and alone.
Sara quickly bustled over to Dustin and deftly helped her remove her things. But Dustin refused the girl’s offer to help bathe her, preferring to do it alone. The only person she ever allowed to bathe her was Christopher, and baths in general were a sore memory. He had so loved to bathe her.
Alone in her new surroundings, Dustin slid into the great tub and washed her hair twice, soaping her skin until she was sure she had scrubbed herself raw. The tub was so big it would have been perfect for two people, and before she realized it, tears welled and fell, mingling with the warm water.
“Why, Christopher, why?” she whispered painfully. “Why did you leave me? You promised you would return.”
Soft sobs filled the room, not unheard by young Sara in the alcove.
She had slipped in through a servant’s door to hang Dustin’s surcoats to rid them of wrinkles and had heard the heartfelt plea like a stab to her romantic heart.
Distressed, she silently exited the room and ran immediately to find her mother. Iris sought out Marcus in mere minutes.
There wasn’t a person at Somerhill that did not know of Dustin’s plight by dinner.
Dustin showed up on Marcus’ arm for dinner, dressed in an apricot-colored silk he had purchased for her.
She looked pale and tired, but was polite as she was introduced to the various occupants of the keep and hearing the stories of those who had been at Somerhill some length.
Iris had been at Somerhill since she had been a young girl.
The baron that had occupied it before Marcus had been the last of a long, distinguished line and when he passed away, he left no heirs and the property reverted to the throne.
But Iris and two of the old man’s knights had stayed on to run the keep before Marcus took it over, and he had kept them.
The knights that had come with the castle were older, seasoned men who had served King Richard’s father, King Henry, and spoke favorably of the man.
Sir Alan Armstrong and Sir Nels McCullogh each had younger wives, Lady Margaret and Lady Emma, respectively, and five young children between them.
As for the other knights Marcus had brought with him, Sir Stephen, Dud, and Sir Dalton le Crughnan, they were a respectful bunch and she had appreciated their professional attitude toward her on the journey.
Dud had fought with Christopher on the quest and she found herself engaged in a pleasant conversation with him, listening to the exploits of her late husband with delight.
At first, he had been very reluctant to speak of Christopher, but she had persisted and he obliged.
Dud soon found himself telling Christopher’s tales for the entire table and they hung on every word.
Dustin likened it to the days at Lioncross with Christopher and his men seated around the meal table, listening to Anthony or Max tell tall and wonderful tales.
Those times would always have a special place in her heart and she missed them terribly.
The de Velt twins were gifted story actors and had the ability to entertain greatly, even though Dud did well on his own as he told of their exploits in Jerusalem, and had his audience enthralled.
All except Marcus. He had been there, and done it all, too.
He found himself staring at Dustin’s turned back as she listened to Dud and the slow fire of jealousy crept surely into his veins.
How in the hell could he compete with a dead man?
The way Dud was talking, Christopher was an immortal god of war, not the mere mortal man Marcus knew him personally to be.
He knew winning Dustin over was going to be difficult, but if tales of Christopher bombarded her ears every night, he’d never have her attention. Aye, Marcus was jealous of a dead man.
Dustin enjoyed hearing Christopher’s legend from Dud’s point of view.
She did not know why she wanted to hear talk of her husband when all she did was feel a stab of pain at the mere mention of his name, but suddenly she decided she wanted to hear Dud’s tales.
When he had finished one particularly long story, he immediately begged off from any more, and she had no idea it was because Marcus was giving him the evil eye over her head.
Still, she was satisfied, and she finished the remainder of her bread with Christin sleeping in her arms. She hoped Dud would tell her daughter and unborn son of their father’s great adventures.
Marcus slept in the chamber next to hers.
There was an adjoining door which had made Dustin wary in the beginning, but she purposely left it unlocked to prove to Marcus that she trusted him.
She did not think she’d be able to sleep in the great, strange bed, but the moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.
Marcus, on the other hand, spent most of the night sitting in a chair staring at the adjoining door.
Lord God, he wanted her so badly he could hardly stand it.
To have her so close, yet untouchable, was cruel torture at the very least.
He slept in the final hour before dawn and then was up again as the sun cleared the eastern horizon.
The days were getting longer as spring bore down on the north, and Dustin grew more and more comfortable with her new surroundings.
As lovely as the countryside was around Lioncross, she grew to love the gently rolling hills of the north and truly loved the view of the river from the turrets of the castle.
Marcus would take her up there every evening at sunset and they would speak of trivial things as they watched the sky turn colors together, and it became an integral part of the process of healing and contributed toward becoming intricately acquainted with one another.
True to his word, he did not pressure her in the least. He let Dustin make her own timetable, as hard as it was for him, but was rewarded at the end of the second week when she took his hand for the first time without him touching her first. A small step, but one he lived on.
To have Dustin’s affection was all he strove for.
The people of his keep came to like Dustin a great deal, and Christin was the most popular person there.
She was a crawling, sitting, gurgling bundle of joy and Marcus adored her as if she were his own flesh.
Even as much as he loved the baby, he could not help wishing for a child of his own from Dustin.
He wondered how long it would be before she agreed to marry him and admit him to her bed.
But he found the more time he spent with her alone, the more he wanted everything from her.
At one time he would have been satisfied with her companionship and fondness, but he was greedy now and wanted more; he wanted her love.
He wanted to see Dustin look at him the way she had looked at Christopher.
He wanted her devotion, her adoration, everything.
But he would have to be patient, and that did not come easily to him. He hoped that time would prove to work in his favor.