Chapter Nine #5
“My lord, my lady,” he said respectfully. “A room for ye on this miserable night?”
“Indeed,” Christopher replied. “And for my knights as well. Three rooms should be adequate.”
“Of course, my lord,” the man glanced at Dustin. “And a bath for your wife?”
“She would be grateful,” Christopher said as the maids were hustled in by Leeton. The door slammed once more and Christopher turned back to the innkeeper. “But now, we would eat.”
The innkeeper looked at Dustin again and Christopher wondered what the man found so interesting about her other than her obvious beauty. He finally looked at his wife and was appalled to see how pale she was. And she was soaked to the skin.
“Christ,” he murmured. “Bath now, man, food later. Move.”
The innkeeper jumped, yelling for his wife and for a bath to be prepared. Christopher put his arm around Dustin’s shoulders, following the man up the stairs and to the right. He led them down two doors and into a small but comfortable room.
“The bath will be here shortly, my lord,” the man said.
Christopher ripped off his gauntlets and set to removing Dustin’s hood and cloak. “Feed my men when they come in,” he ordered quietly. “My wife and I will take our meal in our room.”
“As you wish, my lord,” the innkeeper backed out and closed the door.
When he was gone, Christopher let out a hiss. “Dustin, why didn’t you tell me you were wet through?”
Her teeth were chattering. “You….you told me no complaints.”
He swore softly, pulling her wet cloak free and throwing it to the floor. “Take off your gloves, sweetheart,” he said.
She held out her hands stiffly, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I can’t. My hands are too cold.”
He loosened the fingers of her right glove and pulled, startled when she let out a stifled cry. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She looked sheepish, embarrassed that she was causing so much concern. When she didn’t reply, he gingerly pulled the glove free and saw her source of pain. Wrestling with the horse all afternoon had rendered her palms blistered, bloodied and raw. He clucked softly, examining her hands.
“Oh, Dustin,” he murmured regretfully. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you told me not to complain,” she repeated. “Besides, I wanted to ride with you and the others. I do not like riding in the wagon.”
He removed her other glove carefully, tossing it aside.
There was a knock at the door and he went to open it, moving aside as a plump woman and three men brought in a large copper tub and began filling it with hot water.
Dustin sank wearily on the nearest chair, waiting patiently while her bath was filled and wanting nothing more than to bathe and go to sleep.
She was so exhausted that food had even lost its appeal.
An inn maid came in, bearing linen towels and a large bar of soap. Christopher could see that she expected to stay, but he sternly chased everyone out, bolting the door behind them.
“Stand up, sweet, let me get you out of that dress,” he said, approaching her once more.
The dress, all the way down to the woolen shift, was wet.
Her skin was pale and icy to the touch and he helped her into the tub, up to her neck in the hot water.
The chill began to flee as she lay back, feeling her blood began to flow again.
Reclining against the side of the tub, Dustin watched her husband remove his armor and the rest of his wet clothing, save his breeches.
Then, he poured himself a cup of wine and faced her.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded. “Much. My blood is warming.”
He nodded, taking a sip of wine before holding the cup to her lips. She took a healthy drink, thanking him with an appreciative look. He smiled and crouched next to the tub, his eyes grazing her.
“You will not be able to ride tomorrow with those hands,” he said. “I shall bind them up tonight and tomorrow you can wear your gloves over the wounds to protect them.”
Her face fell. “But I want to ride with you. I have ridden with my hands worse than this, and…”
“You can ride with me, sweetheart, in front of me,” he put in, cutting her off. “Any woman who would withstand such vicious hardships on my behalf I would not dare deny.”
Relieved, she took another sip of wine and he noticed that her cheeks were regaining their color. There was a knock at the door then, and he rose on his long legs.
“Who comes?” he demanded harshly.
“ ’Tis us, milord,” came an older female voice. “Your wife’s maids.”
He glanced at Dustin. “Are you content that I may go out and see to my men?”
She nodded. “Verily, husband. I feel much better now.”
He smiled faintly. “Good. I shall return later.”
“Can we sup downstairs, in the common room?” She sat up in the tub, looking eager.
His brows drew together. “What about your hands? And you must be exhausted, Dustin.”
“Please?” she begged. “I have never supped at an inn before.”
He put his hands on his hips. “There will be another time for that,” he said. “Tonight we will sup in our room and go to bed early. I plan to be on the road to London before dawn.”
Her expression went downcast but she didn’t argue the point.
He was sorry that he had to refuse her, but he believed it would be best if they kept to themselves.
He had seen the way she became when she was around his knights.
She demanded to be entertained and loved the company.
He could only imagine that she would find a way to stay up all night if they supped in the common room with the various travelers.
She wouldn’t rest until she had talked to every one of them.
He opened the door for the maids and the two plump women bustled in, their arms laden with items for Dustin.
He had one of the women help him on with his hauberk and he shook the water off his helmet before shoving it on.
He paused, turning to his wife where she sat in the great tub, one woman drying her hair with a towel and the other scrubbing her right calf and foot with soap and a horsehair brush. Their eyes met and she smiled.
“I shall return shortly,” he said, opening the door and closing it quickly behind him.
Dustin closed her eyes as the maid rubbed her head a bit too hard, yet her mind followed her husband back down the hall, down the stairs, and out into the elements.
It was as if with every passing minute, she became more and more attached to him.
If he were to suddenly leave her, she knew she would be utterly lost. She wondered if she clung to him because he was the only familiar person she had left and a recent acquaintance at that.
But she also wondered if she clung to him because she felt more than simple fondness and comfort.
Something told her it was much, much more.
Christopher returned to the inn almost two hours later, sputtering water and saturated through and through.
David, Leeton and Edward followed close behind him, slamming the heavy inn door to block out the harsh climate.
They stood for a moment shaking water off them as the innkeeper approached eagerly.
“Ready for your meal, good knights?” he asked anxiously.
Christopher nodded. “My knights will take their meal down here, but I will eat with my wife in our room.”
“We’re eating down here,” Dustin said from the top of the stairs.
They all looked up at her as she descended the stairs, her damp blond hair flowing about her like a golden cape and dressed in a soft woolen surcoat of muted red.
As simple as it was, it clung to her voluptuous form and Christopher was alternately admiring the picture she presented and highly irritated that she was disobeying his wishes.
She approached him, the full skirt swirling about her and soaking up the water on the floor.
“Dustin, I told you we would eat in our room,” he said evenly. Then he looked at his knights. “Take your meal.”
“But I want to eat down here,” she said, helping David remove the mail gloves he was struggling with.
“Please, Chris? It is much nicer than our cramped little room, and besides, I have been having the most wonderful conversation with the serving girl,” she pointed over her shoulder, “over there. Her name is Rachel.”
Christopher flipped up his visor. “You have been in the common room conversing?”
“Aye, I have,” she said, not registering his tone of voice.
As she spoke, Christopher glanced around to the other occupants of the room.
Three other knights sat at the far corner, partially obscured by the shadows.
Three other tables were occupied by one or two men, most likely traveling merchants, but he was dismayed that his wife had been in the common room, unescorted, making a spectacle of herself.
Her chatter roused him from his thoughts.
“I ordered roast beef, and a beef and barley soup, and ale, and baked apples with honey and cinnamon. And do you know what else? The cook has a cat.”
He looked at her, honestly stunned that she saw nothing wrong with her behavior. David, seeing his brother’s reaction, put his hand protectively on Dustin’s shoulder.
“Well and good, my lady,” he said, eyeing his brother. “It sounds as if you have demanded a feast for us. Where would you have us sit?”
Dustin indicated a long table already set with trenchers and pitchers of ale.
As she and the knights moved towards it, Christopher’s shock moved to anger.
He fought it down by telling himself that Dustin did not know of her transgression; he did not literally tell her that she could not go down into the common room.
All he had told her was that they would eat in their rooms. She had disobeyed his wishes and for that, he would correct her.
She was too headstrong for him to let it slide.
Dustin had just sat down as Christopher came up behind her and pulled her chair back out. Grasping her arm, he pulled her up to stand.