Chapter Eighteen #6
Dustin screamed loudly with pain and shock, twisting away with blood streaming all down her surcoat and spattering on the floor.
Marcus and Edward, the closest to her, saw what transpired and were overcome with desperation to reach her.
All Marcus could see was the blood and his heart crashed to his heels in agony.
Suddenly the hall was filled with a legion of soldiers, crown soldiers, fighting off John’s guard simply by sheer number.
Frightened residents of the wing had summoned the company when sounds of a battle filled the corridor, it was a matter of honor to kill John’s mercenary bastard troops.
The hate for the elite guard was great among the crown’s men-at-arms.
The black and green soldiers retreated down the hall, yet not without resistance, as Ralph hurled himself at Dustin and snatched her by the arms.
“You are coming with me,” he snarled into her ear.
Dustin tried to kick and fight him, but the shock of her wound was rendering her weak and faint.
She did manage to slug him in his bruised face, and he dropped her with a loud curse.
But when she stumbled away from him, he hit her brutally across the back of her head and she faltered, allowing him to get a grip on her waist. Gasping with triumph, he hauled the dazed Dustin against him and attempted to find a way free of the melee.
“Ralph!” came an unmistakable roar and the sheriff looked over to see Marcus jostling toward him, his face deadly.
Ralph ripped his dagger free of its sheath and pointed it at the baron. “You are the prince’s champion. You should be assisting me, you traitor.”
“I shall kill you, you bastard!” Marcus bellowed furiously, shoving soldiers aside with his bad arm, oblivious to the pain. “Let her go.”
The dirk pointing at Marcus was suddenly at Dustin’s gut. “I shall kill her if you come any closer, Burton. Call back your men or she dies.”
Dustin heard the words through her stupor and suddenly came around, twisting violently against Ralph and throwing her hands up in the general direction of his face.
As she hoped, her palm found its mark and Ralph yelled in pain as his nose was again struck.
His hands on his face, Dustin fell to the floor and scrambled on her hands and knees, persevering with every ounce of strength she had as she tried to get away from him.
There was a heavy silk curtain several feet away; she pushed toward it, thinking if mayhap she could hide in the folds, Ralph would leave her alone to die.
And with the amounts of blood she was losing, she was sure that heaven was her next destination.
Ralph was in his own world of pain. His broken nose was moving loosely about his face and he forgot all else but retreating before further damage could be dealt.
Hollering in frustration and anguish, he staggered back down the hall, yelling retreat to the elite guard.
Hearing the command, swords dropped and the stampede was on.
Marcus raced to Dustin, propped up against the far wall half-hidden behind the huge silk portiere. She was trying to wrap her surcoat around her bleeding leg without much success and he pushed her hands away, wiping at the blood as he tried to assess the wound.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Oh, God, Dustin, I am so sorry.”
Through her weakness and pain, Dustin could see how agonized he was as he ripped her surcoat away to get a better look at her leg. She reached out and touched his thick black hair.
“ ’Tis nothing compared to your hand,” she said shakily. “Are you all right? Is everyone all right?”
David was there, letting out a small cry of panic when he saw all of the blood on his brother’s wife. He dropped to his knees, shoving Marcus aside as they both tried to get a better look at the wound.
Edward and Leeton rushed up, nicked and breathing heavily as they gazed down on their liege’s wife. Yet before they could do or say anything, Dud stumbled up, blood all over him.
“Marcus,” he croaked, “Trent is in a bad way.”
Edward pulled Marcus to his feet and the two of them followed Dud back up the hall to where young Trent Burton lay in a puddle of his own blood, having been lanced in the side of the neck.
He was bleeding volumes by the second. Edward and Leeton picked him up between them as Marcus opened the door to Christopher’s apartments.
David was left alone with Dustin, having seen the wound and was now wrapping her leg tightly in strips of her destroyed surcoat.
His handsome face was so very serious and Dustin watched him work; the pain in her leg unbearable but she maintained her composure.
’Twould only upset David more to see her tears, and he was doing the very best that he could.
“There,” he said in a breathy voice when he had finished tightening the cloth. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
He reached down and picked her up, holding her against him as he rushed back down the hall and into the antechamber of Christopher’s apartments. Behind him, Leeton slammed the door and bolted it.
Trent lay on the floor and Dustin caught sight of him, twisting in David’s arms. “What happened to Trent?”
No one answered her, for they were more concerned with stopping the flow of blood from the man’s neck. David carried Dustin into the bedchamber and laid her gently upon the bed.
“David, where is Christopher?” she asked as he pushed her down on the pillows.
“I do not know, but I intend to find him,” David said grimly, then turned to the open door. “Leeton! Get in here!”
The tall, blond knight was immediately by David’s side, his fair face glazed with distress.
“Stay with her,” David instructed breathlessly. “I am going for Chris and for a physician.”
Leeton nodded shortly, removing his helmet even as David raced for the door. Dustin pushed herself up on her elbows, her face pale and her eyes unnaturally bright.
“I am fine, really I am,” she insisted.
David nodded once, glancing at Leeton before quitting the room.
As he moved past Marcus and Edward in the antechamber, trying desperately to save young Trent’s life, one look at the mess told David that the efforts would be in vain.
A major vessel had been breached and the poor young man’s life was slipping away.
David paused a moment, watching their attempts, and he was gripped with utter contempt for Ralph and John.
“How’s Dustin?” Edward managed to ask, up to his elbows in blood.
“It’s long and fairly deep, but not too serious,” he replied. “I am going for the physician and for Christopher now. Bolt this damn door after I leave.”
He didn’t wait for an answer before he was gone, tearing down the hall with the rage of the devil filling him.