Chapter Nine #4
“Nay,” she said firmly.
A smile played on his lips. “Tell me.”
She tried to pull free but only succeeded in being held even tighter. “I won’t. One time is all you will hear.”
He leaned in, brushing her cheek with his rapidly filling-in beard. “Tell me, or I will scratch you to death.”
She felt the giggles rising, the beginnings of a game afoot. “Torture me with fire and stone, my lord, but I will never utter those words to you again.”
“You will,” his voice was soft and seductive. “Tell me you miss me, wife.”
His beard was scratching her neck, sending chills up her back and she struggled to pull away from him. “Never,” she vowed with a smile on her lips.
“You stubborn creature, tell me,” he insisted, his breath hot on her ear.
She pushed hard against his breastplate, managing to put a miniscule amount of distance between them. “I would hear the words from you, then, my lord.”
He suddenly pulled back, looking quite serious. “Nay, for it would be untrue.”
Her mirth drained and her mouth went agape. “What? You mean to tell me that you do not miss me?”
“Nay,” he said callously, looking over at his food as if he suddenly remembered it were still there. “Men do not miss their wives. Their wives miss them because it is right that they should.”
“Oh!” she gasped in outrage, slapping his hands from her.
She managed to pull free from one hand and was staunchly fighting the other when he suddenly yanked her back to him again, so close that his face was a mere inch from her own.
Dustin swallowed hard, suddenly forgetting her anger as his eyes bore into her.
“Where is your sense of humor, Lady de Lohr?” he whispered raggedly. “Of course I miss you. I ache for you. Why do you think I halted the column? My men need no rest. I did it so that I would be able to see you.”
A twinkle crept into her eye and her arms found their way around his neck of mail and armor. “You are an arrogant man, husband,” she said. “The most arrogant I have ever met. And cruel, too.”
He raised an eyebrow, holding her bundled body against his own. “Arrogant, absolutely. Cruel, mayhap. Christ, you weigh as much as a horse in all of this material.”
“Good,” she said with a smirk, knowing the dresses were indeed heavy, but with this man’s strength, they were practically nothing. “I hope I break your arms. Now, will you reconsider letting me ride with you?”
“Nay,” he said flatly.
Dustin didn’t want to hear that word, she didn’t like it. She pulled herself up, closer to him, and began to pepper his face with quick, hot kisses. “Please?” she kissed. “Please, and again, please?”
He started to return her kisses when his better sense grabbed him and he put his hands up to stop her. “Dustin,” he snapped, exasperated. “I said no. Do not harass me.”
She latched onto his earlobe, sucking it as he had suckled her nipples, simply because the action seemed erotic. “Please?”
Christ, sucking his earlobe nearly undid him.
Had he possessed any less control, he would have thrown her to the ground and bedded her right there.
Her hot little mouth would be his undoing, he knew it, for all he could think of was that same pink orifice on his manhood and he shuddered, trying desperately to bring himself back to the world at hand.
“Dustin,” he murmured, yet his arms were holding her fiercely. “Cease immediately.”
“Only if you allow me to ride with you,” she whispered, hot, into his ear.
He shuddered again, the exquisite torture too much and he knew she had won her battle. “Very well,” he relented. “Now cease at once.”
She released his earlobe and smiled broadly at him, her lips red from the activity. He rolled his eyes and kissed her hard.
“Do not ever do that again,” he said against her mouth. “ ’Tis a whore’s trick to use sex to gain your own end.”
She looked blankly at him and he knew she had no idea what he was talking about. “But you said I could ride with you,” she said.
There was no use arguing the point, at least not now. But he would have to educate her soon, for the power she held over him even now was overwhelming. Should she learn to use that power intelligently, he would be as much as mud in her hands. It was a frightening thought.
He lowered her to the ground, helping her secure the hood of her cloak before putting his helmet back on. Then he looked sternly at her. “Well, come, wife. But if you soak to the skin, I do not want to hear a word of complaint.”
“I promise, not a word,” she said, biting her lip to keep from grinning. “Thank you for your graciousness, my lord.”
He snorted in reply, gathering the empty bag and leading her carefully out of the trees and back into the harsh rain.
Dustin stood with David and Leeton as Christopher ordered Hercules brought forth.
The warmblood was as tall as the destriers, his big brown eyes soft and liquid.
Dustin went to the animal, hugging his great head and the horse pressed into her.
Christopher shook his head faintly; she treated the horse just like she treated that damnable cat.
She moved around to mount and Christopher held out his hands to act as her boost. Putting her left knee into the sling of his interlaced fingers, she propelled herself up onto the animal and immediately swung her right leg over the pommel of the saddle.
Even with all of the skirts and undergarment, Christopher saw that she was riding astride, as a man does.
He scowled in disbelief. “What are you doing?”
She looked completely innocent. “What do you mean?”
“Dustin,” he lowered his voice. “I realize that you are used to riding astride, but you will not ride that way today. Both legs on the left, please.”
She stared back at him, but she was already complying. “But ’tis easier for me to ride him astride. Hercules is used to me riding him that way.”
“That may well be, but you will ride as a proper lady in the company of my men,” his voice was low and patient. “You are my wife and I will not allow you to be seen in such an indecent position.”
She honestly could not fathom his outrage, yet she knew that true ladies did not ride astride. Nodding compliantly, she tried to position herself comfortably and gathered her reins. With a lingering look, Christopher lowered his visor and moved to his own mount.
When the column moved forward, Hercules turned from a docile creature into a snorting, dancing beast that tried to throw his mistress off every few steps.
Dustin struggled with the animal, shortening his reins tightly to give him less of a chance to throw his head around and to give her better control.
Even as the big animal fought and grunted, she remained very much in control and rode him quite ably.
Christopher and the others watched her closely, quite concerned for her safety, but were nonetheless very impressed by her skill.
“What’s wrong with him?” her husband demanded.
“He does not like the way I am riding,” she told him between grunts of exertion. “He prefers me astride.
Christopher didn’t answer, continuing to watch his wife closely and making sure he stayed clear of the flying hooves. After several minutes of fighting, Dustin finally pulled the animal to a halt.
“Do you have a strip of leather I can use?” she asked, bailing from the animal and stroking his frothing nose. “Three feet or so should be enough.”
David dismounted his steed and fumbled around in his saddlebags.
He drew forth a length of rolled leather and handed it to her.
Holding the horse’s head still as she tied the leather onto the chinstrap of the bridle, Dustin ran it between his front legs and secured it to the cinch of the saddle.
The knights watched her work quickly and expertly, tying a knot as well as any man.
When she was done, she stood back and tested the strength and length of the leather.
“That should do well enough,” she said, motioning to David to help her mount.
Christopher moved the company forward again.
As before, Hercules danced and snorted and did fancy little sidesteps, but the strap she had secured under his chin kept him from throwing his head wild, saving Dustin’s strength and her hands and actually calming the horse a bit.
When she was sure the steed was somewhat under control, she glanced up at her husband and saw that he was looking at her, although she could not see his face. She smiled anyway.
Christopher was quite amazed with his little wife’s skill with the horse.
She was such a paradox to him; sweet and feminine and more sensual than any woman he had ever known, and yet she could ride better than most men and she could fight like a ruffian.
And the most wonderful thing was, he realized, that she belonged to him.
He told her once that he would know everything about her but he wondered if he ever truly would.
The rain was steady and they rode until after nightfall, when they came upon a small inn that looked as if it was leaning somewhat to the left.
Everything sloped sideways. But it was presumably warm and dry.
Christopher dismounted, ordering his men to set up a camp in the meadow adjacent to the inn, and made his way to his wife.
Dustin sat atop Hercules as David and the other knights saw to the men and to the horses. She smiled wanly at her husband as he approached and held up his hands to her. Wearily, she slid into them.
He lowered her to the ground, too busy making sure all was riding smoothly with his troops to notice much about her.
He continued to give orders even as he opened the inn door for Dustin, finally quieting long enough to enter himself.
He flipped up his visor, his blue eyes scanning the common room of the inn, which did not seem to lean as the outside structure would indicate.
Smelling like unwashed bodies, the room was nonetheless dry.
The innkeeper, a small man with a red face, dashed to greet his new guests.