Chapter Eleven #4
Dustin looked up at the two men as they spoke, each distinctly handsome.
But she found it was Christopher who drew her gaze, who warmed her heart.
She thought of the tournament, and of him winning.
If he were to win and she were not awarding prizes, then it would mean that another woman would have the honor of publicly touching her husband. With that thought, she flared.
“Christopher?” she called to him.
He and Marcus turned to look at her. She fixed her husband with a miffed gaze.
“You are going to win the tournament, are you not?” she demanded.
He cocked his head, unsure of her tone or her question. “I would hope to.”
“But you are the best soldier in the realm. You fight all of these men as if they are children, so I would venture to say that you are going to win the tournament,” she said firmly.
He cleared his throat modestly. “There are two categories, my lady, the joust and field combat. To win both would be a task.”
She stood up, rigid with the jealousy she was feeling.
“But you are the very best; therefore, you will win.” He cocked his eyebrow at her and she continued almost angrily.
“If you win and I am not allowed to bestow the prize to the winner, then that will mean that another woman will have the pleasure of kissing you and rewarding you publicly. You will not allow me kiss Marcus to congratulate him for a fine fight, yet you would allow another woman to kiss you in front of the entire court.”
Both men were taken aback by the ferocity of her statement, yet Christopher had to agree she had a certain amount of logic. Silly, but logical. Before he could answer her, she jumped at him again.
“Think on it this way, husband,” she raised her chin. “If I am to bestow prizes, then what better incentive for you to win? You would not want me favoring another, would you?”
Marcus snorted. “She has a point,” he mumbled, then suddenly looked struck. “What does she mean congratulate me for a fine fight?”
Christopher gave Marcus an irritated glare before focusing on his wife again. “What brought this up again?”
She stuck out her lip. “Nothing. I….I just want to be the one to congratulate you, ’tis all.”
“And you shall, in the privacy of our bedchamber,” he replied evenly. “Not in front of the whole of Windsor and London.”
She scowled. “And why not in front of them? Are you ashamed of me?”
Marcus started to laugh and Christopher was highly annoyed at both of them. “Of course not, Dustin, but what we do between ourselves is a private matter, not to be displayed for public scrutiny.”
“We are married, Chris. They know that we do far more than merely kiss,” she shot back, putting her hands on her hips. “If you won’t let me award trophies, then I will not come at all.”
Christopher moved toward her and away from the hysterical Marcus, gripping her arm tightly and leading her several feet away. She frowned fiercely at him.
“Do not look at me like that,” he snapped. “And do not speak to me in that tone, either. I have warned you about that.”
“Then why cannot I award the prizes?” she persisted. “Oh, please? Do not deny me.”
As much as he hated to admit it, her reasoning was sound.
He knew he would be the victor, and he would like nothing better than to be kissed by his wife.
But she would be kissing him in front of John and Ralph, and he knew he would not be able to control his emotions when he held her in his arms. They would see right through the rigid facade he was trying to maintain.
“Very well, I will think on it,” he said finally, watching her face light up with a huge smile. He held up a warning finger. “But I promise nothing other than that.”
“That is enough, husband.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him two or three times before he peeled her from him.
“Dustin, not out here, sweet,” he admonished her softly. “Not in front of the men.”
She pouted. “You are ashamed of me, then. You do not even want your own men to see me touch you.”
He gave her a stern glare. “That, lady, is a lie and you well know it. But there is a time and place for everything, and kissing me in front of my knights is not the correct place for that action.”
She was still put off, turning away from him and crossing her arms. He watched her as he adjusted his armor and put his gauntlets back on.
“I will say this, Lady de Lohr,” he said, softly and richly.
“I am more proud of you and your beauty than you can imagine. Mayhap that is why I wish to keep what is between us private. To see you display affection inflames every man who sees it; to see nothing more than courtesy and warmth between us only fuels their imagination and nothing more. What I do with you is my private heaven and no one else’s. ”
She gazed up at him, deeply touched by his words. “Cannot I at least kiss you once in a while, should it be appropriate?”
He gave her a half grin and leaned down, kissing her on the lips so sweetly that she lost her balance. “Aye, you may. And I give myself permission to kiss you wherever and whenever I damn well please. Satisfied?”
She nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Aye.”
Marcus watched them from afar, trying to busy himself with his armor and sword, trying to pretend he didn’t notice the exchange.
But he did, and it cut through him. He tried to ignore the twisting in his chest, venting his frustration with his jerky movements.
He’d never been jealous in his life but knew that he was feeling his first at that moment, and he was disgusted with himself for it.
His infatuations usually lasted a mere day or so, but this one had not only failed to dissipate, it had increased in strength.
But it could go no further, he told himself.
Lady Dustin was married to his liege, and he was not about to jeopardize everything he had ever worked for simply for a woman.
Mayhap if he told himself that enough he would believe it, although a fleeting thought told him that she would be worth every heartache should it come to that.
*
Dustin dressed carefully for her first formal supper.
She knew that there would be scads of elegantly dressed women, and she would simply have to make do with what she had.
She had never in her life cared for fine clothes or jewelry, but she wished she had some now.
She wondered if Christopher would be ashamed of her because she was not swathed in expensive finery.
He had disappeared to parts unknown but Leeton and Dud were out in the antechamber acting as her protectors.
She had her maids hem up a surcoat Rebecca had not quite finished, a surcoat of exquisite ruby-red brocade, almost a garnet it was so rich.
The neckline was wide-open, hugging her arms just below the shoulders and clinging to her figure with long sleeves and a snug bodice.
Her white breasts were displayed most provocatively, and she smiled when she knew that Rebecca had made it this way with her trip to London in mind.
The skirt of the surcoat was huge and flowing, creating a train in back when she walked.
She sat in front of a lovely carved vanity, absently brushing her hair and wondering what she should do with the unruly mass.
It was so long and she had so much of it that it would completely cover up the surcoat if she let it, so again for the first time in her life, she was sorry she knew nothing of the latest hairstyles.
One of her maids, a short plump woman with a fat face, watched her young mistress for some time before approaching timidly.
“Do ye want yer hair properly done, my lady?” she asked with a smile, gazing at Dustin in the reflection of the mirror.
Dustin sighed. “I do not know. I don’t know what to do with it. I want to look fashionable, but I do not know how.”
The maid put the shift she was holding down on a chair. “If ye would allow me, my lady, I will help ye.”
“Would you, Marta? I would appreciate it greatly,” Dustin said sincerely.
The woman nodded, beaming, and scooted from the room. Dustin waited several minutes before the woman came hustling back with a strange-looking device in her hand. She immediately went to the hearth and lay it upon the coals.
“What’s that?” Dustin asked distrustfully.
“A French frizzing iron,” the woman announced. “We shall do wonderful things with that mane of yers. Another maid is coming to help me, with your approval.”
Dustin nodded, trusting that the women knew what they were doing. She certainly didn’t.
An hour later, curled and brushed and primped, Dustin was allowed to look at herself for the first time. Initial shock was immediately replaced by a wide, happy grin.