Chapter Fifty-Seven #3
She yanked her feet out from under him, panting with the effort and the disgust she felt.
Her legs were shaking so that she could not stand, so she simply scooted a few feet away and leaned against the wardrobe, making desperate attempts to slow her breathing and regain her senses.
Now that the initial danger was over, she had to clear her mind and decide what move to make next.
After all, she had just managed to kill Prince John’s champion, self-defense or not, and she was positive the prince would not take kindly to her offense.
Just as she was getting a grip on herself, the door to her bedchamber flew open and Gabrielle stood in the archway. Her pleasant expression instantly went to one of absolute horror when she saw Sir Dennis’ crumpled body lying in a pool of blood.
“Dustin,” she cried. “What….?”
“Shut the damn door,” Dustin croaked.
Gabrielle, stunned, immediately slammed the door shut and bolted it for good measure, turning back around to face the gory scene with disbelief.
“What happened here?” she demanded shakily. “Is he…is he…?”
“He is dead,” Dustin said, more calmly than she felt.
“He tried to rape me, and I killed him, although it was truly an accident,” her eyes sought out her friend in earnest. “I could not let him have me, Gabrielle. He might have hurt my child somehow, and….,” she trailed off, swallowing the bile rising in her throat.
Gabrielle, her hand clutching her throat, walked hesitantly toward the body, viewing it in astonishment. He was in a heap on his side and the fire poker jutting from his chest was stark evidence of what had happened.
“You killed him with the poker?” she pointed. “My God, Dustin, what bravery! I simply cannot believe it.”
Dustin was feeling distinctly limp now that she was calming. She gazed impassively at the bloodied body, wondering what in the hell she was going to do now.
“He charged at me just as I picked it up,” she said quietly. “He impaled himself on it.”
Gabrielle was overwhelmed. How many times had she imagined herself doing the same thing but had lacked the simple nerve? She hovered over Dennis’ body, her legs like water, delight and terror hand in hand.
“What are we going to do with him?” she whispered.
Dustin felt the impact of the word “we.” Gabrielle would not allow Dustin to be alone in this, and she was deeply grateful. But what remained now was, indeed, what to do with the body. With a deep breath for courage, she rose to unsteady feet.
“We have got to hide it somehow to get rid of it,” she said. “But where?”
Gabrielle shook her head. “I don’t know, Dustin. We cannot very well carry him anywhere and….” She suddenly looked up at Dustin. “I am scared. If John finds out what you have done, he will…..”
Dustin wouldn’t let her finish. “I know,” she cut her off, though not unkindly. “We must hide him somewhere where he won’t be found, at least for a while.”
“At least until he starts to smell,” Gabrielle added, almost dryly.
Dustin looked from the body to her friend and back again. Then, her gray eyes scanned the room in thought, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation. What to do, what to…?
Her eyes fell on the massive wardrobe, filled with her new, hated clothing.
A light went on in Dustin’s mind; surely she could hide the man underneath the mound of clothing and he would be out of view from anyone who opened the wardrobe, at least until they went digging.
Rapidly, she bent down and pushed Dennis over on his back.
“In the wardrobe, Gabrielle,” she said with quiet urgency, yanking the poker free with disgust. “We shall put him in there and cover him with my surcoats.”
Gabrielle sucked in her breath sharply and glanced at the open wardrobe.
It was certainly large enough. Lacking a better suggestion, she grabbed hold of Dennis’ legs.
With Dustin dragging him by the arms, it took them several tries to get the dead man up into the wardrobe.
Blood was everywhere as they lay several surcoats atop him as well as any other accessories they could find, covering him completely.
They worked quickly and quietly, a tremendous sense of urgency filling them.
Only when Dennis was covered and the wardrobe doors closed did Gabrielle rush to clean up the trail of blood on the floor. Dustin, spent emotionally and physically, flopped into a chair as her friend did a fine job of covering the evidence.
“Where is Christin?” Dustin managed to ask, afraid, yet knowing if there had been trouble, Gabrielle would have told her first thing. “Did you give her to Darren?”
Gabrielle threw the last of the bloody rags into the hearth and covered them with ash and soot. “I did,” she said, looking up at Dustin with a small smile. “She is safe, my lady. Have no fear.”