Chapter One #3
“I have been instructed by our king to deliver it personally,” Christopher said evenly. “I would deliver it now.”
The man didn’t say anything but continued to glare until Christopher finally had enough of his animosity. Dismounting without permission, he removed two scrolls of parchment from his saddlebags and walked deliberately to the soldier, holding out one of the missives for him to see.
“Richard’s seal,” he stated in case the soldier was blind. “Twould be unwise of you to go against our king. Now move aside or escort me in; ’tis all the same to me.”
The soldier stared at the seal, knowing it for what it was. He tore his eyes away and looked at Christopher again, but this time, with less hostility.
“You scared the devil out of Lady Dustin,” he said in a low voice. “For that I should gut you right now, but because you bear the missives from our king, you shall be spared.”
Christopher almost laughed. David, in fact, did, drawing the soldier’s angry glare. The battle lines were already being drawn.
“What is your name?” Christopher demanded of the warrior.
“Sir Jeffrey Kessler,” he replied. “I am captain of Lioncross while Lord Barringdon is away.”
Arthur had made no mention of a captain but it was of no matter. Christopher would dismiss the man as soon as he wed the fair Lady Dustin and put David in charge of the men.
“Gain us entrance, Sir Jeffrey,” Christopher requested, but it sounded suspiciously like an order.
Jeffrey’s gaze lingered on Christopher before complying, just long enough to emphasize he could not be ordered around by a stranger. Christopher followed, somewhat hesitantly, wondering if he shouldn’t bring a contingent of men to protect him against any trickery from the Germanic knight.
He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword just in case as he followed the man into the dark and musty keep beyond.
*
Dustin stood in her mother’s drawing room, pacing endlessly by the oilcloth-covered windows. Lady Mary, unflappable as always, continued to calmly work on a piece of needlework, ignoring her daughter’s sighs and grunts of worry.
“Why don’t you change your dress, dear?” her mother said calmly. “We have visitors.”
Dustin glanced down at her surcoat. It wasn’t even really a surcoat, it was just a dress made from faded brown linen, and a darker brown girdle that would have emphasized the magnificence of her breasts had the white linen blouse not been so over-sized.
Dustin never gave any thought to her clothes, mostly concerned with the other aspects of her busy life.
As long as they were clean and functional, it was all that mattered.
“Why?” she asked, rather clueless.
Her mother put the sewing down. “Because you look like a peasant waif,” she said patiently. “Look at your slippers, they are dirty, as are your hose. Please change into something more appropriate.
“Appropriate for what?” Dustin wanted to know. “Appropriate to hear of father’s death?”
“Do not raise your voice, please,” her mother said quietly.
She was a pale woman with black hair hidden beneath a wimple.
She’d never been particularly well and had spent the majority of her life reclining one way or the other.
It was a great contrast to Dustin’s vigor.
“You shame your father dressed as you are. Please go and change.”
Dustin grunted in frustration and turned to her mother to argue until she realized the woman’s hands were shaking.
Her heart sank with despair for her mother’s feelings.
She knew how much the woman had loved her father.
She forgot her own feelings as she focused on what her mother was surely feeling.
“I am sorry, Mother,” she said, forcing down her lofty pride as she went to kneel by her chair. “I did not mean it. The truth is that the knight never actually said father was dead. I really do not know why he is here.”
Mary stroked her daughter’s blond head. “I know,” she smiled gently. “Now, please, go change your clothes. That would please me.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you? Wine, perhaps?”
“Nay, my dear. Hurry along now and do as you are told.”
With a reluctant nod, Dustin rose and moved for the door. She crossed the threshold and turned the corner only to run headlong into a broad, armored body.
It was a strong impact. Dustin shrieked, jumping back as if she’d been burned as her eyes flew up to face her accoster. The same sky-blue eyes that she had seen earlier smoldered back at her, now with something more than mere politeness. Now, there was something appraising there.
“My apologies,” Christopher said.
Dustin nodded unsteadily as Jeffrey led Christopher into the drawing room, leaving Dustin standing in the corridor with her hand on her throat, wondering how a mere gaze could make her feel so vulnerable.
De Lohr’s eyes were piercing and consuming, something she’d never experienced before.
It was an odd sensation. Coming back to her senses, she rushed to her bedchamber to do her mother’s bidding.
Ready or not, she wanted to hear what the man had to say.