Chapter Nine #6
“We will take our meal in our room,” he repeated the order she had already heard, glancing to his knights. “You gentlemen continue your meal and we shall see you on the morrow.”
Dustin looked stricken. “But…but I….”
Firmly, he pulled her with him a step or two before the room was filled with a loud voice, directed at him.
“De Lohr, I have never known you to force a woman to do your bidding.” The voice was deep and masculine. “What’s wrong, Lion’s Claw? Losing your touch with the fairer sex?”
Christopher’s expression never wavered, but David, Leeton, and Edward stood immediately, hands on the hilts of their swords. Dustin’s eyes were wide, for she could sense the tension in the men. Christopher’s grip on her tightened.
“Show yourself,” Christopher demanded steadily.
“In good time,” the man said casually. “I cannot believe you do not recognize my voice, old man. You should. You heard it every day for three years.”
Christopher didn’t look overly worried, but Dustin was growing terrified. He let go of his wife and moved closer to the man and his two companions. His manner was steady but his body was coiled, his hand close to the hilt of his sword.
“I could scarce believe when you called that exquisite creature your wife,” the man continued.
“How in the hell did you get to be so fortunate? I have been watching her for the better part of an hour and I can tell you, she is beyond believing. Where did you find her and, more importantly, does she have any sisters?”
Christopher’s eyes glittered, his jaw was twitching underneath his beard. “Show yourself, bastard, or I shall cut your heart out.”
After an eternal pause, the man rose on long, muscular legs. He straightened his armor, taking his time about it, before stepping forward into the light. Christopher was prepared to run the man through when the light fell on his face. Christopher’s eyes widened.
“Burton!” he gasped in surprise. A smile crossed his face, with relief, and he took the extended hand in greeting. “Marcus Burton. What in the hell are you doing here?”
Sir Marcus Burton shook his liege’s hand happily, his handsome face split in two with a wide smile.
“Coming to see you,” he replied. “I was told your new seat is Lioncross Abbey.”
“Indeed it is,” Christopher said, his eyes twinkling warmly. “Christ, are you a sight. Come and greet my brother and my wife.”
Marcus followed Christopher to the table, greeting David with a slap to the head and punching Edward in the chest. He knew Leeton vaguely and greeted him civilly, yet when his eyes fell on Dustin, his manner seemed to grow warm and serious.
Piercing blue eyes gazed upon her, the color of cobalt, and he had chiseled features with a crown of cropped black hair.
Big and muscular, he was extremely handsome.
The cobalt blue eyes were intense as Christopher introduced them.
“Marcus, the woman you have been lusting after is my wife, Lady Dustin de Lohr,” Christopher said as he drew her forward. “Dustin, this is my closest friend, Sir Marcus Burton.”
Marcus ripped off a mailed glove and took Dustin’s hand, bringing it to his lips.
“My lady is too lovely for words,” he said smoothly.
“Forgive my boldness, but you were indeed a pleasure to watch. Since I saw the baron leave to attend to his men, I found myself your personal protector should any of these merchants be foolish enough to force their attentions.”
Dustin blushed deeply as he kissed her hand, smiling when Christopher snatched it away. Marcus laughed. “Since when are you so damn possessive over a woman?” he snorted. “Jesus, Chris, with all of the woman that fawn over you….”
Christopher cleared his throat loudly. “They aren’t my wife,” he said, giving Marcus a quelling look. “Lady Dustin is, and I appreciated you watching over her while I was indisposed.”
“My pleasure,” Marcus said, his eyes once again on Dustin. “She needs watching over. Is she as disobedient as I gather she is?”
Dustin flushed pink, wishing he would stop looking at her as if she was a prize mare. Christopher looked at her, too, but with a reproving gaze.
“She is learning,” he said. “She is better than she was.”
The other knights were sitting down and Marcus drew up a chair. Christopher, reluctantly, sat as well, drawing Dustin down beside him.
“Tell me, Chris,” Marcus said as David and the other two began to chow down the food. “Where did you meet her? You have only been in England a week. Was she waiting for you? You never mentioned that you were betrothed.”
Christopher removed his helmet, running a hand through his blond hair. “Dustin is Sir Arthur Barringdon’s daughter,” he said. “She, and Lioncross, were a gift from Richard.”
Marcus nodded in understanding. “Ah, yes, Arthur was dying when I left,” he said softly.
“The old man thought a good deal of you, Chris. So you married his daughter and gained the keep? An excellent arrangement. However, if I had known Arthur’s daughter was such a beauty, I would have vied for her myself. ”
He was talking about Dustin as if she weren’t even there and it irritated her. Since Christopher wasn’t eating, she didn’t either. She kept glancing at David as he gnawed away on a large beefy knuckle. He would glance at her every so often and smile.
Christopher didn’t like Marcus’ callous attitude, either.
But Marcus was deeply acquainted with the Christopher before Dustin, the Christopher who would use woman for his own pleasure and who considered them no more than a necessary nuisance.
But this Christopher was disturbed by the references to his wife, and he was unnerved that Marcus’ words should upset him so. He felt unbalanced.
“I take it, then, you were coming to Lioncross to be in my service?” Christopher said, changing the subject.
Marcus smiled. “Absolutely, my lord. I would serve no other, except our glorious Richard, of course.”
Christopher smiled faintly. “I am pleased. Who are your vassals?”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder to the two knights sitting in the corner. “The younger one is my cousin, Sir Trent Burton, and the other is Sir Thomas Dudley.”
“Is that Dud?” Christopher studied the dark form in the corner. “Christ, I did not recognize him. He looks years older from when I last saw him on the sands of the Holy Land.”
“He is,” Marcus chortled. “But he, and my cousin, wish to serve you also if you will indeed have us.”
Christopher looked as if he was thinking it over. “Very well,” he said finally. “I shall take you and Dud on, but I will have to see Sir Trent in action before I can accept his oath.”
“He has a good deal of skill and strength,” Marcus assured him. “Now tell me, Chris; where are you traveling to?”
“To London,” Christopher said, and his mirth faded. Marcus knew nothing of Richard’s directive and here was certainly not the place to inform him. “You are coming with me.”
“As ordered, my lord.” Marcus did not look pleased, but held his tongue. He was far too wise to run off at the mouth in public.
Since they could not delve into the subject at the moment, Christopher relented and ordered his and his wife’s trenchers filled, and they ate while conversation bounced about the table.
Sir Thomas and Sir Trent joined them eventually, and Dustin was once again fascinated by the tales of the Holy Land.
Sir Marcus was the consummate storyteller, but he always focused on her when he talked and she was uncomfortable with his attention.
He reminded her of the honeyed-word fools that used to call on her.
She lost track of time listening to the men.
When the food was finished and the plates had been cleared, she was still caught up in the stories.
Marcus was in the middle of a particularly harrowing tale when the front door to the inn blew open in a crash of rain and weather and noise.
Everyone turned to see several men in armor and mail storm in, filling up the room with their presence.
Dustin caught her husband’s body language as he stiffened, as did the rest of the knights at their table. She was apprehensive, wondering why the men had suddenly gone on guard.
The knights that had entered the small inn were loud and rough, shoving and cursing each other as they made their way wearily to one of the worn eating tables. They demanded ale and food loudly, sending the innkeeper and the serving wench running.
Plates of food were brought to them and pitchers of drink. They dripped water all over the floor and in little time bones and bits of slop were falling to the ground as they began to eat. They were extremely loud and rambunctious, and Dustin eyed them distastefully.
“Pigs,” she muttered.
Christopher did not want his wife in the same room as these hardened men. There was something unpredictable about them. The sooner he returned her to their room and bolted the door, the better.
“David, you and Leeton will escort my wife to our room,” he said in a low, even voice. “One of you stay with her and bolt the door. I shall be up shortly.”
David rose, pulling Dustin’s chair out as Leeton came around and took her arm. Dustin glanced at her husband with concern, not understanding why he seemed so on edge, but he patted her arm.
“Go on up, sweet,” he said quietly. “I shall be along.”
A knight at the other table pinched the serving girl as she poured one man a cupful of ale, forcing her to cry out with pain.
The men laughed and one of them did it again as the woman struggled to pull away from them.
But they wouldn’t let her go, like a cat in a snare, and they began to grab parts of her body that were sensitive and personal.