Chapter Twelve #5
“Did you like it?” he snapped, then regained hold of himself. “I did not mean that. Christ, Dustin.…”
She was incredibly calm, much more than she thought possible. “Nay, I didn’t,” she said quietly. “I was shocked and angered. I can only tell you that it wasn’t planned, that I do not hold feelings for Marcus, and that it will never happen again.”
His hands were still moving, tensing. “Then he lied to me.”
“If he did, it was only to protect me,” she said. “He fears you, and he respects you, and he realized the gravity of the mistake. We both do.”
He looked at her then, and she saw anguish in his eyes. Dustin was suddenly inflamed by the pain, for he had caused it in her heart many a time and she was outraged that he should act as though he had been hurt. He wasn’t hurt; the only thing injured was his honor.
“At least I didn’t bed the man,” she exclaimed, hurt and anger filling her. “You did not extend me any consideration before you were pumping your seed into another woman. And do not act as if you are wounded by this action, my lord, for the only thing that is damaged is your pride.”
She expected him to fly at her, but he didn’t. He looked as if she had taken a dirk and stabbed him in the heart with it. “How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” she fired back. “I am your chattel, your wife whom you profess to be fond of, a pretty little chit whom you subject to your commands and moods and politics. That is all there is to Lady de Lohr in your eyes.”
He clenched his teeth, trying so very hard to maintain himself but not doing a very good job. She had hurt him, perhaps more than anyone ever had, and his primal need for satisfaction lashed out at her.
“What else are you good for?” he growled.
He might as well have hit her. Her jaw clamped shut and her eyes softened with agony, but she did not look away from him. She maintained her gaze, her dignity, for all she was worth.
“If nothing more,” she whispered, “of giving you a fortress.”
He stared at her, deeply remorseful for what he had said. She was so easily crushed, but the truth was he was hurting, too. As much as he tried to convince himself that it was merely his honor at stake, he knew that his heart was gravely wounded. He was bleeding.
With nothing more to say, Dustin turned away from him and climbed off the bed. Her movements were lethargic and slow, as if it was taking everything out of her simply to move.
“I would sleep in the other bedchamber,” she said quietly.
When she moved past him, he called out to her softly. “You will not,” he said. “ ’Tis not safe for you to sleep alone. You will sleep in here, with me.”
She looked up at him. “Under the circumstances, I am sure you can.…”
He shook his head, cutting her off. “Nay, lady, you will stay here. You may have the bed and I shall…sleep on the chair.”
Pain such as she had never known welled in her as she began removing her tight surcoat, anything to busy herself.
She wanted to go to sleep, to forget about this for a short while.
Mayhap when she awoke, fresh, she would be better able to cope.
As it was, she was as brittle as kindling and Christopher’s presence only made her feel worse.
“You are not going to kill Marcus, are you?” she asked softly, fumbling weakly with her stays.
Christopher was as close to emotionally numb as he had ever been. He was gazing off across the room, not looking at his wife.
“He lied to me,” he said simply.
Dustin’s head came up, fear filling her veins. Even if she carried no feelings for the man, she could not let her husband kill him.
“You will not kill him, Christopher. I would as soon throw myself on your sword.”
“This matter is between my knight and me,” he said.
“Nay, it is not.” Her rage was surging again. “I am as involved as either one of you. If you kill him, then you must kill me as well. For that matter, mayhap I should return to Lioncross and kill the serving wench you bedded. The one who carries your bastard.”
She ended bitterly and his eyes snapped to her. “She does not carry my child,” he said.
Dustin simply turned away from him, still undoing her stays. She was too exhausted, too emotional, to say anymore. She blocked him out, unable to cope.
Christopher sat there as she undressed, digesting everything that had happened that evening, trying to regain his shattered composure.
As shocking as her confession was, and as stunned as he was that Marcus had lied to him, it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart that Dustin had betrayed him.
He could deal with Marcus, but handling his feelings for his wife was a matter he had never had to confront before.
Love was pain and weakness, and this example was living proof.
He moved past his wife, heading through the antechamber and to the front door.
Opening it, he barked orders to one of the dozens of soldiers guarding the hall and the man took off running.
With his knights still in the dining room, he wanted extra soldiers guarding his wife.
He left to seek out Marcus. It would seem that there was much to discuss.