Chapter Sixty #3
Marcus grinned, leading her up the steps. “Summers at Somerhill are very pleasant. You shall have to visit sometime.”
Gabrielle’s heart leapt into her throat, fighting back the wishing and hoping that was flooding her soul. “I would like that, sire,” she replied evenly, although she felt as if she could gush like a fool.
He paused at the top of the steps and faced her, studying the fine-boned lines of her face. “Call me Marcus, if you will. Might I call you Gabrielle?”
Gabrielle thought she was going to faint with sheer happiness. “I would consider it an honor, si….Marcus.”
He grinned at her and she smiled back. Together, they entered the great keep that was Lioncross.
Griselda had met Christopher at the top of the stairs.
The old woman had stayed on after the birth of Deborah’s son because of the difficulties the child had and had never left.
Even now, Deborah was expecting again and Griselda had no shortage of patients.
Christopher could see that the old woman was greatly concerned.
“Welcome home, my lord,” she bowed quickly.
He eyed her. “What’s wrong?”
Griselda came straight to the point. “Your wife, sire. After her long trip, she must rest and she is refusing to listen to me.”
Christopher shrugged, his fatigue catching up with him. “She seems healthy enough to me, but I will see that she rests well for the rest of the day.”
Griselda held up a finger. “Not just this day, sire, but until the child is born. We do not want a repeat of what happened with your daughter.”
Christopher’s brows came together. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that the child was early,” Griselda said. “We must make sure that this child she carries is not early.”
Christopher froze. “Christin was early?”
“Aye, she was,” Griselda repeated patiently. “You yourself mentioned that fact, even though I did not believe it, but you were nonetheless right. We must make sure this child comes full term.”
It took him a moment to realize he had stopped breathing. Slowly, he resumed his intake of air but there was no mistaking the shock of emotions that were filling him. The old woman had just made his life complete and she did not even know it.
“You are sure Christin was early?” he asked, his voice strangely raspy.
“I’d stake my reputation on it, sire,” Griselda said confidently.
He stared at the old woman a moment. Then, he grasped her gently by her bony shoulders and planted a loud kiss on her wrinkled old forehead.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Griselda watched the baron lumber down the hall, his gait slow and tired, wondering what in the world was wrong with the man. But her puzzlement did not prevent a faint blush from creeping into the aged cheeks.
Dustin was lying down when he entered the bedchamber. She had only meant to rest a moment, but the minute her head hit the pillow, she was asleep. Christin was snoring baby-soft in the little cradle next to the bed and he smiled at his daughter. His daughter.
Dustin stirred the moment he touched the bed. “You are here,” she murmured. “I am sorry, I did not mean to fall asleep.”
He put his hands on her as she tried to rise. “Nay, sweetheart, lay down. You are tired.”
“But I have a house full of guests,” she protested softly.
“Gowen and Deborah can handle the masses,” he said gently, moving to pull her shoes off. “You need to rest.”
Dustin watched him, his movements slow and unenergetic. “You are exhausted, too. We both need to rest.”
He smiled wanly. “I am all right.”
She reached out and tugged on his mail. “Lie with me.”
He eyed her, instantly half-aroused with her tone. Christ, it had been months since he had touched her, but now was not the time.
“Nay, my love, I shall not,” he said with gentle firmness. “We would most definitely not get any rest if I did.”
She sat up, her beautiful face rosy and glazed with love. “It has been months, Chris. Will you truly deny me? After everything we have been through?”
He felt his composure evaporating. “Of course not, Dustin, but look at us. I am still recovering from a near-fatal injury, and you are exhausted and pregnant.”
“Then neither one of us will tax the other,” she said softly. “Lie with me, husband. I need to feel you.”
He lost it. His armor and mail came off and he was next to her within seconds, pulling her most fiercely to him and burying his face in her hair. The scent of roses filled him.
Dustin sighed with utter contentment, her eyes closed at the pureness of his touch, the absolute reverence she felt in it. Tears of such joy stung her eyes that she did not bother to dash them away. The tears were well-earned.
The Defender of the Realm made love to his wife that afternoon, every touch and every kiss a song of love unto itself.
He loved her with the endless devotion of time, always and forever would he love her.
And she responded to him with the blind worship she had always felt for him; she could not remember when she hadn’t loved him.
God had given them a second chance and they would not be so foolish as to waste it.
The Defender had come home.