Chapter Forty-Nine #3
News arrived from Lioncross in late April announcing the birth of Michael Christopher Myles Olmquist. Mother and son were doing very well and Dustin was thrilled that Deborah bore a son.
She mentioned returning to Lioncross for the christening, but Marcus was vague and changed the subject.
Dejected and somber, Dustin realized he would probably never let her return home.
Edward had been right. Somerhill was now her world, and Lioncross was a memory.
Marcus knew how she felt, but he could not risk taking her to Lioncross only to have her never want to leave.
One bright day, Marcus took his wife and daughter into the land ablaze with spring flowers and set out lunch while Christin scrambled through the sweet grass.
Dustin sat on the ground and watched her daughter play, taking leaves out of her little mouth as Marcus approached and offered her a bit of cheese.
“Spring time is glorious this far north,” he commented, sitting down beside her and lounging back. “There is far more color than in the south.”
“Oh, I do not know,” Dustin replied, taking a bite of cheese.
“Lioncross is fairly colorful this time of year.”
“Aye, but you are closer to the Welsh border,” he said. “London is so filthy and drab that the flowers refuse to grow.”
She smiled. “How close are we to Scotland?”
“Two day’s ride,” he said. “We have actually had a few marauders since I have been here, but they have kept to the woods.”
Christin scooted past and Dustin reached out to tickle her tummy. Marcus smiled at the baby, catching the reflection of Dustin’s diamond ring in the sunlight and feeling his mood dampen. He reached out and took her hand, studying the ring.
“If I bought you a diamond ring, would you wear it?” he asked.
She pulled her hand away, guiltily trying to hide it. She wasn’t sure how to answer him. “I do not like diamonds, really. I only wore the ring because Christopher made me.”
“Then take it off,” Marcus said shortly, immediately cursing himself for sounding so blunt. “I mean, he’s no longer around to force you to wear it. And you are married to me now, and I should like to see you wear my ring.”
Her light mood was ruined. Her wedding rings were a sore point and they both knew it. “I do wear your ring, Marcus.”
“On your right hand.” He sat up swiftly. “When are you going to stop holding onto Christopher? He is dead, Dustin. I have courted you for weeks and weeks now, praying that you would come to your senses, but you continue to live for a life gone by. You would do well to realize that.”
So much for patience. Dustin hung her head, tears welling. “I do realize that. Why do you think I came north, with you?”
He stood up, agitated. “I do not know I truly do not know. You tell me, why did you come?”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with outrage. “Because you all but got down on your knees and begged me to come,” she reminded him. “You nearly killed David when he tried to stop you and threatened Edward at every turn. What choice did I have?”
He looked at her for a moment; of course she was right. He had done everything but tie her to his horse. With a long sigh, he turned away.
“Dustin, I want you to let me love you,” he said softly. “I thought I had enough love for the both of us, but I cannot continue to give and not receive. You have got to give just a little, honey.”
She stood up. “I told you I would always love Christopher, Marcus. You knew that when you brought me here. I have never lied to you about that and I told you I needed time, but you continue to push me and eventually you are going to push me away from you.”
He just hung his head and she felt sorry for him. Lord only knew how hard he had tried to make a life for her, to love her and care for her, and she knew she had been difficult.
With a stab of pity, she went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She held her hands up, making sure he was looking down at them, and switched her wedding rings to the opposite hands.
Marcus’ bright gold and garnet wedding band gleamed on the third finger of her left hand. He smiled weakly and clenched her hands against his tight stomach.
“Don’t be angry, Marcus,” she said softly. “You have been more than patient and I hope you do not find out too late that I was not worth all of the grief I caused you.”
He turned around and took her into his arms. “Never in a million years.”
Christin, ignored, let out a whooping yell and they both turned to see her grinning happily back at them, chewing on a piece of harmless grass.
“Is she my daughter, Dustin?” he asked softly.
Dustin shook her head. “I see Chris in her, Marcus. The only thing that resembles you is the color of her hair.”
He drew in a long breath and kissed the top of Dustin’s head. “There will be more babies for me; for us. And they will all look exactly like me.”
“Never,” she scowled at him. “They will all be fair like me, not dark as the devil.”
He grinned at her, nipping at her ear playfully and she pulled away, moving back over to retrieve her daughter before she began grazing like a cow.
Marcus felt as if he had won a great battle that day. Little by little, Lady Dustin was slowly becoming his.