Chapter Seven #5
“I was jesting, sweetheart,” he told her, gathering his mail, hood, and helmet. “You will never again need to defend yourself. I will do it for you.”
“Why? Because you are my husband?” she teased lightly. “I do not recall that our wedding vows instructed you to defend me, only honor, obey, and trust.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you have already broken two of those vows, and I know not about the third.”
She knew which ones he was referring to. “Aye, honor and obey have not always been my strong points, but I do trust you. Truly, I do.”
He was standing by the door. “You had better,” he said. “And before the month is out, I intend to have the other two.”
She smiled a sort of noncommittal smile and rose, turning away from him. He found his eyes drawn to her full breasts, her shapely hips, and her whole figure. Christ, she was lovely and full and supple. Thoughts he had had before, yet thoughts that stayed with him the rest of the day.
Christopher tossed and turned that night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Dustin, her sweet face, her luscious young body. Christ, it had been so long since he’d had a woman that his natural urges were getting the better of him and he’d been fighting off an erection most of the evening.
Yet he would not go to his wife. His vows were firm and strong, she would have to come to him first. But his body screamed to touch her, to hold her, to caress her and taste her like he had no other.
He had every legal and moral right to go storming into her room and drive into her until he found his release and his seed beget an heir, but he just could not seem to do it.
He knew she didn’t want him, and that strengthened his resolve not to seek her out.
But he was terribly distended, thinking of her, and he knew he would have to do something about it or face great unrest. There were always serving wenches willing to relieve a man, no more than objects for a man to relieve himself with.
Throwing the covers off and hearing Caesar squeal in protest as he was disturbed, he donned his breeches and left his room, searching with an overpowering urge for a woman to release him.
It wasn’t difficult. The castle was full of willing wenches, even sleepy ones, and he returned to his room in no time with a big-busted brunette ready to obey his every command.
Christopher wasn’t nice about it. He ordered the woman to strip as he removed his breeches and roughly squeezed her breasts, suckling hard on her as she moaned and writhed loudly beneath him.
His huge hands bruised her soft breasts and her moans were partially of pain, partially of pleasure.
He ran his hands all over her, his eyes closed, not even realizing that he was thinking her to be his wife. Wishing her to be.
That was the extent of his foreplay. He settled himself in between her legs and drove his massive organ into her so hard that she did scream from pain, and he slapped his hand over her mouth to quiet her.
But her face soon awash with pleasure as he thrust into her, hard enough to bump her head against the wall.
When he felt himself building quickly toward his release, he withdrew and turned the wench over on her stomach, propping her up on her knees.
A trick he had learned of, so as not to deposit his seed and possibly beget a bastard, he eased himself into her anus.
The wench moaned and cried softly, rubbing her woman’s center as he pushed his way into her. Within two hard thrusts, he was released, animalistic satisfaction washing over him, but nothing more.
When he finally opened his eyes and looked down at her dark head, he was suddenly struck by the fact he had been picturing Dustin in his mind all along and was horrified at what he had done. He had done nothing but mate in a purely bestial sense and he was disgusted with himself.
God help him, he wanted his wife in every sense of the word.
He was ashamed that he was not strong enough to wait for her.
Kicking the woman from his bed, he barely gave her time to dress before opening the door and practically throwing her from his room.
He was hurried and urgent, wanting to get her out and forget about the whole affair.
He was a man unused to regret, but regret he did.
*
Dustin had no more woken up the next morning than she began to hear the rumors that the baron had bedded one of the kitchen servants.
Deeply shocked, she pressed the silly maid who was helping her with her bath until she was sure she had all of the horrible, humiliating details.
Even when she had stopped asking questions, the wench continued to prattle on as if she were talking to another silly female and not the baron’s wife.
She went on and on and Dustin sat in stunned silence until hot tears began to sting her eyes and she chased the foolish woman from her room.
It seemed that all she did was cry anymore.
She cried now because she was terribly hurt if the rumors were true, and she had no reason to suspect that they were not.
Except for fatherly kindness, Christopher had never indicated the least bit of attraction for her and she knew it was because she was unworthy of him.
Yet he had seen fit to take a kitchen wench to bed with him, and that information cut her to the bone.
He did not believe her worthy enough to bed.
The more she brooded, the more angry and hurt she became until her pain was a raging fire in her chest.
Why should she obey and honor him when he had seen it fit to dishonor her?
True, it was not uncommon or even discouraged for the lord of the house to bed a servant.
It was simply part of his privileges, yet her father had never done it because he actually loved her mother.
She was blind and stupid to believe that Christopher would honor her in the same manner.
She was crushed. She simply could not deal with the thoughts anymore and decided from that point on she would never again allow herself to like him.
Truth was, she was coming to like him a great deal and for her emotions, she had received a slap in the face.
That would happen no more. Men, as she had always believed, were pigs and liars and cheats, and she hated all of them.
Christopher had almost changed her mind, but fortunately his actions had brought her back to her senses.
She dressed in a standard dress, brown cloth skirt and a white blouse with a tight black girdle around her small waist. She was in the process of putting on her black leather slippers when she caught sight of her three new dresses hanging in her wardrobe.
Dustin didn’t even think, the next thing she knew, she was yanking the dresses out and slashing them, tearing them, until there were shreds of lavender and gold and burgundy all over her room.
The remaining material that refused to tear was shoved into the hearth where it burned brightly.
Sweating and panting, yet somehow pacified with her venting for the moment, she secured her long hair back to the nape of her neck and quit the room.
It was mid-morning before Christopher went to seek her. He hadn’t seen her when he and the other knights had broken their fast at dawn and had yet to catch a glimpse of her. Mayhap it was a guilty conscience that made him more eager to see her than usual.
He rapped softly at her door, calling her name. Twice more he tried and received no answer. Quietly, he lifted the latch and stuck his head inside.
What he saw shocked him and he knew instantly that someone had told her about his indiscretion.
He should have known the stupid bitch would have run and told everyone who would listen.
He felt sick to the pit of his stomach as he surveyed the torn dresses.
Dresses he had asked her to wear. Christ, he knew the symbolic meaning of the ripped and destroyed clothing without even asking her and he was deeply distressed.
It was his own fault; all of it. Had he not been so proud, had he only been strong enough to wait, had he only…
? It had taken hurdles and leaps and bounds to bring their relationship to the point it had reached, and looking at the chaotic room he could only pray that it had not been completely destroyed.
He realized with growing concern that he didn’t want Dustin hating him for the rest of his life.
He wanted, nay, needed her companionship.
He’d never needed anyone before the way he was beginning to need her.
He picked up a swatch of the gold, remembering how beautiful she had looked in it.
He also remembered the way she laughed with Rebecca, her unrestrained comical sense and the beautiful shape of her mouth when she smiled.
She had smiled at him like that on a few rare occasions.
He wondered darkly if he would ever see that smile again.
There was a way out of this, of course. He could lie to her.
Christ, he hated that thought. He was a man of impeccable honor and standards, and he knew he could not, in good conscience, lie to his wife.
But he was feeling a peculiar sense of desperation, as if he would do anything to gain peace between them.
David came up behind him, surveying the room with surprise. “What in the hell happened here?”
Christopher was still clutching the piece of gold material. “I do not know for sure, but I have an idea.”
“What idea? Where is your wife?” David asked with rising concern.
Christopher sighed. “Off somewhere, hating me,” he said softly, looking at his brother. “I took a serving wench to my bed last night, David. I can only imagine that Dustin has heard the rumors.”
David looked puzzled. “Why would you take a whore when you have a wife?”