Chapter Twelve #2
Christopher took his arm, pulling him up from the wall. “You have no control over rumors and lies, Marcus. People will believe what they will,” he said. “Yet you had the courage to tell me what was transpiring, and for that I am grateful. Now we can deal with what comes.”
Marcus shrugged weakly. “I suppose they mean to break us down, to split Richard’s loyalists from the top.”
Christopher began to pull the man down the hall with David trailing after them.
“Nay, we must stay together, no matter what,” he replied.
Then, he grunted disgust. “Who would have believed that John and Ralph could have tried to use a woman to drive us apart? Of all the stupid and ludicrous ideas….”
He trailed off, shaking his head. But David, who had managed to walk up beside them, was focused on Marcus.
“Aye, he told us of the rumors,” he said evenly, “but he did not deny them.”
Christopher came to a stop, as did Marcus. They looked down at David, and Christopher actually glared, but David stood his ground.
“Well, he didn’t,” he insisted to his brother. “Mayhap he was trying to save his own ass by telling you first, lying about it, so that you would not believe the truth when you heard it.”
Marcus’ jaw ticked as he faced off against David. He was bigger and broader, but by no means the better warrior. David was one of the elite.
“Do not let your jealously be so apparent, Lion Cub,” he growled.
David twitched in Marcus’ direction but Christopher threw out a massive arm between them.
“What is going on with us?” he demanded angrily. “Three years in the sands and never a harsh word, but we return to England, I take a wife, and suddenly everyone is at each other’s throats? David, you will apologize to Marcus for your blatant insult.”
“Not until he denies it,” David muttered.
Christopher looked to Marcus. The man continued to stare David down, his jaw working furiously. The cobalt blue eyes were hot enough to burn.
“I did not ravage Lady Dustin,” he said simply. No, I kissed her softly. There was definitely a difference between kissing and ravishing, minor though it might be.
Christopher had heard enough. Leaving David and Marcus glaring at each other, he had larger problems to worry over than two of his men quarreling.
There were several soldiers guarding the door to his apartments and he brushed past them, opening the door and slamming it in his wake. Edward and Sir Trent were in his antechamber, but Dustin was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s my wife?” he demanded, then eyed Trent. “In the hall, boy.”
Trent obeyed quickly, leaving Edward with a furrowed brow at Christopher’s manner.
“What happened?” Edward asked.
Christopher glanced at him on his way to the wine decanter. He poured himself a healthy amount before answering.
“Christ, what isn’t happening?” he snapped.
“Ralph and John tried to blackmail Marcus into championing the prince by telling him that their spies saw him ravish my wife back at the inn. Marcus did the correct thing by telling me about it, but that does not mean the rumors will not run rampant. I can only imagine how Dustin is going to react.”
Edward sat on a chair, his expression cool. “What did Marcus say?”
“The truth; that nothing happened,” Christopher said staunchly.
Edward nodded, his eyes growing distant. Christopher downed his goblet and poured himself another, eyeing his silent friend.
“What is with you?” he demanded.
Edward glanced up at him, then looked away, shrugging. “Not a thing. Are you going to dress for supper?”
Christopher set the goblet down, eyeing Edward. “What were you thinking, Edward? What have you heard?”
“Heard? Nothing,” he said truthfully, then looked at his liege a long moment. “But I would be lying if I did not tell you that I think there may be some truth to the rumor.”
Christopher ran cold. “What do you think? Damn, Edward, you were there. What do you think?”
Edward drew in a long, deep breath. “What do I think? I think that your wife has fallen in love with you, and that Marcus has fallen in love with your wife.”
Christopher’s gaze didn’t waver for several long moments. Then he broke away and wandered slowly across the cold wooden floor. After a pause, shook his head.
“Damn,” he muttered, then turned to Edward again. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be without asking either one of them.”
Christopher looked at the man, his expression torn with shock, before finally emitting a hissing sigh.
“Why is this happening, Edward?” he demanded without force.
“Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine when I married Dustin Barringdon that she might prove to be the downfall of the mightiest knights since Arthur’s Roundtable.
Had I only known, I would have told Richard to forget everything.
No keep is worth his kingdom, which might be exactly what this boils down to. ”
“What are you babbling about?” Edward demanded.
Christopher’s passion was in his gestures, his voice.
“Christ, Edward. David thinks himself in love with her, Jeffrey has told me he is in love with her, now you tell me that Marcus has fallen under her spell. And every time Leeton looks at her, he thinks of Rachel and becomes absolutely useless. That leaves me with you, Dud and that young Burton boy who seem to be unaffected by my wife’s charms. How is it possible that this is happening? ”
Edward shook his head slowly, seeing Christopher’s point. But his liege had failed to mention one very important point. “What about you, Chris? Have you fallen for the woman you didn’t want to marry?”
Christopher stopped pacing and looked at him. “Oh…hell, I do not know,” he whispered, his agitation evident. “All I know is that I cannot go for a minute without thinking about her. How could I not? She is beautiful and sweet and full of spirit. I am very fond of her, true, but I do not love her.”
Edward gazed back at him, not about to contradict him. But Edward knew better; Christopher did indeed love his wife, but he was too damn proud to admit he actually depended on someone other than himself.
As they pondered the revelations, the questions, something came whistling through the air and missed Christopher’s head by a mere inch.
Both knights instinctively ducked as the pewter cup banged against the wall behind them, and they turned with astonished expressions to see Dustin’s tear-stained face glaring at them from the bedchamber door.
Christopher’s heart sank when he saw her.
She had heard it, all of it, and he could only curse himself for being stupid enough not to control his mouth.
But as soon as he saw her, he also realized one thing; she was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Her hair was incredible, and the surcoat flattered her in every way.
He wanted to take her in his arms but she threw another cup at him and he dodged it.
“Get out of here, Christopher de Lohr,” she cried. “I hate you. I told you I hated you before, but I mean it now. Go away. I do not ever want to see you again!”
“Dustin,” he began feebly, moving toward her.
She screamed at him “You bastard! All the time you were being kind, you were thinking hateful things about me all along!” She bolted into the bedchamber and slammed the door, crying hysterically.
Christopher sighed and looked helplessly at Edward, who didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. He sought to offer the man advice before he quit the room.
“Chris,” he said pointedly, making sure the man was looking at him. “If you ever thought to tell your wife that you love her, now would be a good time.”
He left, leaving Christopher listening to Dustin’s miserable wailing and feeling enough guilt to flood a moat.
*
He could not fold to her. He would not fold to her.
Christopher dressed for supper, his armor having been polished by his squire until it gleamed like crystal.
He listened to Dustin’s cries fade until there was complete silence, but even then he didn’t go to her.
His heart was screaming for her forgiveness, his body ached to hold her, but his damnable pride prevented everything from being as it should. He would not show weakness.
His knights joined him an hour later, having been informed by Edward that Lady Dustin would most likely not be attending supper with them.
Hesitant to ask why, they congregated in the antechamber and eyed each other with uncertainty as Christopher finished dressing.
Their liege had yet to look at them and tension was evident.
Finished fussing with his armor, he went to the bedchamber door and rapped softly. “Dustin? Are you ready?”
“Go to hell!” Dustin spat from behind the door.
The knights had to look away, but not before broad smiles crossed their lips. They could not even look at each other for fear of bursting into laughter. Only Marcus and Edward didn’t smile.
Christopher sighed slowly. “Open the door, sweetheart. ’Tis time to go.”
The door seemed to explode with pounding and kicking on the other side of it. “I said go to hell!” she screamed, louder.
He wouldn’t acknowledge her profanity. “Open the door, Dustin, or I shall open it from this side.”
“You do and I shall…I shall jump out the window!” she hollered, kicking the door one last time for good measure. “Go away. Go eat your supper and I hope you choke to death!”
They began to hear things breaking and a huge crash that shook the entire room. Christopher’s brow furrowed.
“Dustin?” he called, standing next to the door. “Are you all right?”
“What do you care?” she yelled, dissolving into sobs. “You do not like me, anyway. What do you care if I die? Then your knights will not be divided and you can continue your mission for your all precious and powerful Richard. You can sleep with him from now on, because you won’t be in my bed!”
He sighed heavily, looking at his knights for the first time.
“Go ahead without me. I shall be down….in a minute.”