Chapter Fifty-Two #3
Dustin felt Christopher’s massive hand move to her belly and she put her own hand over it. “I am sorry I deceived you, Marcus,” she said sincerely, “but under the circumstances, I thought it best to let you believe what you would.”
His cobalt-blue eyes stared back at her miserably. “I suppose I knew you were pregnant,” he said softly. “Whether or not Christopher is the true father, I accepted the child as mine. It is my child, and you are my wife.”
“I am Christopher’s wife,” she said earnestly. “You know that; you have always known that. He is my husband, dead or alive.”
Marcus slammed the faceplate down and raised the sword and Dustin bolted forward, suddenly furious.
“So help me, Marcus Burton, if you harm Christopher, I shall hate you for the rest of my life,” she snarled. “Do you hear me? I shall despise and loathe you, and I shall kill myself if you try to touch me. Do you understand me?”
The sword lowered slightly. “Do not say that.”
“It is true!” she shrieked. “I shall hate you forever, Marcus. I want Christopher. He has returned to me, and I want him. Can you not understand? As badly as you want me, I want him.” Her last three words were deliberate and stressed.
“Dustin,” Christopher came up behind her. “Leave him be, sweetheart. He must do this, as I must.”
She whirled to Christopher, seeing that he was donning his helmet. “Nay!” she gasped. “I forbid you! Christopher, I just got you back. I am not going to lose you now.”
“You will not,” he said evenly.
From the shadows, Anthony suddenly came charging forward, sword in hand. Marcus didn’t hesitate as he engaged Anthony head-on, landing a clean strike to the groin within the first four blows. Mortally wounded, Anthony fell to the floor in agony.
The room sat in stunned silence, realizing Marcus was deadly serious about fighting for Dustin. Dustin, too, realized Marcus meant what he said, but she was horribly shocked to see that he had gored Anthony. She watched Edward drag Anthony across the floor, leaving a thin trail of blood.
“Marcus,” she said, scared and incredulous. “You killed him!”
Marcus did not reply and Richard moved forward, eyeing the two men severely.
“How is it that we have come to this?” he wondered quietly.
“My very best knights, dueling each other over the love of a woman. How in the hell have we come to this?” He looked down at Dustin.
“My lady, sometimes I wish I had never heard the name Barringdon. You, dear woman, have come closer than anyone to toppling my throne.”
Dustin felt guilty as sin, lowering her gaze. Richard hadn’t meant to blame her, though, and put a fatherly hand on her arm. His gaze fell on Marcus and then Christopher.
“I do not relish what this has come to, but I had better let you two fight it out or there will never be peace within my ranks.” He pulled Dustin along with him, out of the line of fire.
“Get on with it then, and I shall await the victor with Lady Dustin in another room.” So much for the glorious speech he had prepared to give at this moment; he knew any words would be wasted on them.
The die was cast and nothing he said would make any difference.
But Dustin wasn’t ready to go. She pulled away from Richard and rushed to Christopher. “Nay,” she cried softly. “Do not do this. Christopher, I do not want to lose you again. I could not take the pain, not when I just got you back.”
He flipped up his visor and kissed her with painful sweetness. “You won’t, sweet love. Go with Richard.”
Dustin could not believe this was happening. To have him in her arms for mere minutes and then suffering the threat of death again was too much to take. She started to cry again, but he kissed her tears away.
“Nay, Dustin,” he murmured, his lips on her face. “No tears.”
He gently turned her toward Richard, but instead, she veered toward Marcus. He observed her coolly as she approached.
“If you win, Marcus, you lose everything,” she whispered viciously. “You will not have won a wife, but an enemy for life. Leave well enough alone and we can remain on good terms, but kill Christopher, and I will turn your life into a living hell.”
He gazed at her a moment. “Would it be so terrible to remain with me?”
“Not if I loved you,” she said honestly. “But the man I love is alive, Marcus, and I want to be with him. Why is that so difficult for you to understand? I certainly do not want to hurt you, for you have been more than generous, but would you truly want a wife who did not want you?”
She saw pain in his eyes and she reached out to touch him. “Marcus, the time we have shared has been wonderful and I shall always have fond memories of Somerhill. But my place is with Christopher, and you must find a wife who will worship the ground you walk on. But that wife isn’t me.”
She turned to gaze adoringly at Christopher as Richard moved forward and took her with him. The rest of the knights and officials cleared out after them. Alone in the room, Christopher and Marcus faced off.
“You did not have to kill Anthony,” Christopher said, posturing defensively.
“I did. He wanted to kill me,” Marcus replied.
Christopher suddenly stopped his advance. “Marcus, what would have become of us if Dustin did not exist?”
Marcus stopped, too. He thought a moment. “I suppose we would still be the best of friends, carousing Windsor and bedding wenches.”
Christopher head bobbed in a nod. “Do you remember the Countess of Ixloe?”
Marcus nodded. “Absolutely. The biggest tits I have ever seen.”
Christopher snorted. “She paid you as if you were a common whore.”
Marcus snorted in return. “And you got a sable cloak out of her.”
“Better than money,” Christopher insisted. “Or what about the time we got into that fight in Constantinople? In the beer house?”
Marcus lowered his sword and raised his faceplate. “Those idiots deserved it. French bastards, insulting Richard as they did.”
“Richard beat the hell out of them,” Christopher said, lowering his own sword, grinning. “He always intimidated the hell out of me after that, although I never let on. And David; Christ, do you remember when David bedded that ambassador’s daughter?”
Marcus laughed, warming to the conversation, all but forgetting his hurt and anger. “Hell yes, I do. We had to smuggle him out of the city because there was a damn price on his head.”
“We were clever bastards, weren’t we?” Christopher’s eyes twinkled, his smile fading as he fixed on the man he had loved like a brother. “What in the hell happened? One minute you were my best friend, and the next minute we are preparing to kill one another.”
Marcus’ smile faded, too. With a grunt, he sat heavily on the nearest chair. “We fell in love with the same woman.”
“Is that it?” Christopher sat across from him, wincing when his armor jabbed his scar. “I thought it would be something much more complicated than that to make us want to kill one another.”
Marcus sighed heavily. “I do not want to kill you, Chris. But I love Dustin.”
“As do I,” Christopher said softly. “She was my wife first, Marcus. The children are mine, no matter how much you love them. I do not want to die; I do not want you to die. I am sorry for all of this, I truly am, and I appreciate the fact that you took my wife and child as your own. God only knows not many men would do what you have done, and I am deeply thankful. But I am back now, and I want my family. You would kill me for wanting what is my right?”
Marcus met his gaze a moment before looking away. After several long seconds, he slapped his leg in defeat. “I love her, Chris. I have always loved her.”
“And she loves me,” Christopher returned gently. “I shall not share her with you, my friend. You shall have to find your own wife.”
Marcus gazed back at him, resignation and hurt written in his eyes. After a moment, he let out a hissing sigh and turned his head. “Sometimes I wish I had never heard the name Dustin Barringdon, either.”
“Then that is where we part opinions,” Christopher replied. “I cannot imagine my life if I had not married Arthur’s daughter.”
They sat together a long while in silence, each man to his own thoughts, Christopher wondering if Marcus was still going to fight him.
He hoped not, for he would surely kill his friend.
It might take some time, but he had no doubt he would be the victor.
His heart ached for the friendship they used to have, for the way things used to be.
“I shall let you take Dustin on one condition, then,” Marcus said finally. “That you leave Christin here with me.”
Christopher was surprised. “Why would you say that?”
Marcus cleared his throat, dropping his gaze. “I think…I think she is my daughter, Chris, and I shall tell you why. You may want to kill me after you hear this.” He stood up. “The night I left London, do you remember you asked me to watch over your wife while you met with the justices?”
“I do,” Christopher nodded, seriously curious.
Marcus swallowed, finding this confession harder than he once thought.
“Dud left me alone with Dustin, and if you recall, she had been very angry with me over her miscarriage. Hell, Chris, I had to talk some sense into her, so I went into her bedchamber hoping to have a few words with her.” His voice was quiet.
“It was almost black in the room; I could scarce see my hand in front of my face. When I knelt down to wake her, she thought that I was you and immediately pulled me onto the bed with her. I could have stopped her, but I am guilty in that I was far gone in love with her and I did not want to stop her. She thought it was you the entire time, Chris. She kept calling your name, but I didn’t care.
I took her and I did not regret it. But I left London because I could not bear to see her with you after that. ”
Christopher’s face went hard with shock and anger but he kept his customary composure. “And you think Christin is your daughter?”