Chapter One #2
Christopher knelt down, noting the even breathing, steady pulse, but pale color.
Mayhap the fall did contribute to this. He suddenly felt strangely protective, knowing that the woman was to be his wife.
Wasn’t it right for a husband to feel protective?
It was the most peculiar sensation he’d ever experienced.
“What’s your name, lass?” he asked the panting redhead.
“Rebecca,” she replied, “Rebecca Comlynn.”
Christopher nodded, turning back to the woman in the grass. “You will take us back to Lioncross, Mistress Rebecca. I will take care of Lady Dustin.”
Rebecca started to protest but David grabbed her and seated her on his destrier before she could put up a fight.
Christopher scooped up Dustin and managed to mount his own steed with surprising ease.
She was light, this one, and small, too.
Standing her full height she barely met his chest. She was little more than a child in his arms.
He stole a glance at her as he gathered his reins.
Her lips moistly parted, she looked to be sleeping in his arms. Her hair, so incredibly long and silken, hung all over them both and he had to pull it free from the joints in his armor a couple of times.
He could feel lust warming his veins. Spurring his great warhorse, they proceeded on to Lioncross Abbey.
Lioncross Abbey was so named because it was built on the sight of an ancient Roman house of worship and actually incorporated portions of two walls and part of the foundation.
Additionally, Arthur Barringdon had christened it Lioncross after Richard and the quest. Prior to Arthur inheriting the keep from his father, it had been named Barringdon Abbey.
Some older people in the region still referred to it as such.
The fortress sat atop a ridge overlooking a large lake and the deep purple mountains that marked the Welsh border could be seen in the distance. Thick banks of trees surrounded the fortress and made the region appear lush and fertile, even in the dead of winter.
Christopher took a good look at what was to be his new home, verily pleased.
It was a fine fortress, easy to defend, with a small village about a half mile to the north.
He found himself growing more and more satisfied with each passing step of his horse.
Aye, he was worthy to be lord of this. He already found himself making mental notes about the structure, what needed improvement and reminding himself to ask questions about the revenues.
As fine a warrior as he was, he was an equally fine scholar and knew what it would take to make Lioncross a profitable keep.
Dustin stirred in his arms and he was reminded of his burden.
He looked down at her just in time to see her lids opening, slowly, as if a curtain rising.
Again, he was entranced with the bright gray eyes and noted the thick lashes as she blinked.
She was staring up at the sky as if trying to remember where in the world she was when her gaze fell on him.
She blinked once, focused on his pale blue eyes, and then sat up so fast he had to throw his arm down on her to keep her from pitching herself right off of his horse.
“Put me down!” she hollered.
“Steady, my lady,” he said. “We’re almost back to your keep.”
Her head snapped to the horizon where Lioncross indeed loomed. She began to struggle against him and he could not understand her panic, but he relented and let her slide to the ground.
She took off like a rabbit, her skirts up around her thighs as she pounded down the road. That incredible mane of hair waved behind her like a banner. Rebecca, not to be left behind, jumped from David’s destrier and ran after her.
David reined his steed alongside his brother’s, both of them watching the racing figures. “Now, what do you suppose that is all about?” David wondered aloud.
Christopher shook his head. “I have no idea,” he replied, then grinned at his brother. “What think you of my new keep?”
David nodded his approval. “Exceptional. As is your new bride.”
Christopher cocked a blond eyebrow. “I am surprised as well,” he admitted. “Lady Dustin Barringdon looks nothing as I imagined.”
“With a name like Dustin, I had no idea what to think,” David snorted.
“Nor did I, little brother,” Christopher agreed.
They entered the outskirts of the little village, passing an interested eye over the small buildings and tradesman’s shacks.
It smelled like sewage and livestock, and bits of dust kicked up in the occasional breeze.
The road leading to Lioncross was a wide one and peasants scattered to stay clear of the approaching army.
Christopher’s horse accidentally crushed a chicken and sent a woman wailing, much to his displeasure.
Finally, the jewel of Lioncross loomed before them. The gates of the fortress yawned open before them and he halted the caravan with a raised arm.
“This will cease,” he indicated the open gates. “With Wales so close, these people are fools to leave themselves vulnerable.”
Beckoning David forward with him, he left the rest of his troops outside the gates. There was one bailey to Lioncross, a huge open thing used for a myriad of purposes. He studied it intently, already noting what needed changing, as he and David rode for the massive double doors of the entry.
Sentries met them at the base of the front steps. Christopher announced himself and his purpose, and waited while one of the guards disappeared inside. He reappeared several minutes later followed by another man dressed in mail and portions of plate armor.
The knight studied Christopher with piercing dark eyes. He was not particularly tall, but Christopher could see the muscles on the man. He was a seasoned warrior. His face was severely angled with a sharp nose and a sharp mouth. Immediately, he sensed hostility.
“What is your business here?” the man demanded in a strong Germanic accent.
“I am Sir Christopher de Lohr,” he repeated, matching the man’s tone. “I bear a message for Lady Mary Barringdon from King Richard.”
The man looked Christopher up and down, taking a step toward him. “Give it to me and I will see that it is delivered.”