Chapter Twenty-Six #2
He grinned. “I am not. If you want to stay here and become part of the fixtures, I shall not stop you. But can I bury you if the dogs start gnawing on your rotting corpse?”
She let out a cry of disgust and slapped playfully at him. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“So sorry,” he said with mock sincerity.
She eyed him, wiping her eyes. “You are not.”
He stroked her dull hair, watching her compose herself. “Will you at least bathe this morn and don a clean surcoat? It might make you feel better.”
She glanced down at herself, her dirty shift and robe. She suddenly wondered how Christopher could have stood her appearance for an entire week.
“Aye, I shall do that,” she nodded.
He had the delightful duty of bathing his wife.
She was still rather weak and needed his help to wash her thick hair, but she insisted she was quite capable of soaping her own body.
He ignored her statements and ran soapy hands all over her skin until he was fully engorged and bordering on miserable.
She had lost a substantial amount of weight during her infirmary, her stomach completely flat and her breasts somewhat smaller, but her body was as incredibly luscious and desirable as it had ever been.
The bath did indeed seem to perk up her spirits and they deteriorated to throwing suds on each other.
After receiving two hefty bombardments of white froth, Christopher grabbed her to him, wet and all, and kissed her hard.
He was miserable when she responded intensely, pressing her naked breasts against his shirt until he had to let her go or go mad.
She smirked at him from her perch in the tub. “You started it.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, wiping his hands on a towel. “Started what? Oh.”
She was pointing at his swollen crotch and he turned around so she would not see him. “Get out.”
She laughed. “No. Turn around.”
“No,” he said flatly. “Get out of the tub before you catch chill.”
She leaned on the edge of the tub, her gray eyes glittering up at him. “No. Turn around and lower your chausses.”
His head snapped around and he looked at her wanly. “No, Dustin.”
“Then I shall get out and lower them for you,” she said seductively.
He gazed at her with disbelief. “Dustin….no. We cannot you are still weak and….”
She reached out and managed to grab hold of his breeches, tugging him toward her. “Come here.”
He could have easily pulled free of her grip, but instead found himself responding to her.
He didn’t want to, but it was as if some invisible force was pushing him forward, moving for him and he was powerless to respond.
He watched his wife unfasten the stays on his chausses and release his great organ, helpless to stop her but anticipating her actions with more excitement that he could imagine.
Her warm, wet hands fondled his great size eagerly and when, with an evil grin, her hot mouth plunged down on him, he was completely lost.
He never knew he could climax so quickly. It could not have been more than a couple of minutes and he was erupting convulsively, his hands entangled in her wet hair and he heard himself murmuring her name over and over again.
When it was over, he swept her from the tub and wrapped her in a giant linen towel. Cradled against him, he carried her over near the fire and began to dry her off vigorously. She was still grinning at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
She shrugged, not answering. He slowed his rubbing. “Why are you grinning?” he asked.
Again, she shrugged saucily and he fought off a grin, returning to toweling her hair. “You will tell me why you are smirking so or I will wrap you up in this towel and throw you in the hearth.”
She gave him a look that let him know she didn’t believe him. “I was simply thinking how wonderful you are, that’s all,” she replied. “And how much I like making you submit to me.”
He gave her his own disbelieving look. “Is that so? Do you intend to abuse your power, lady?”
“Never,” she replied, closing her eyes as he combed out her hair. “Chris?”
“What, sweetheart?”
“I would take that walk with you now,” she said softly. “Can we go into town to the baker’s? I have a craving for a sticky bun.”
He smiled with relief. “Of course we shall go. But we will ride if you want to go into town.”
“Can David and Deborah and the others go, too?” she asked.
Mildly surprised at her turn of heart, he spun her around to face him. “If you wish it, of course. Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Aye.”
He smiled and kissed her head. “David and Edward and Leeton should be at the training grounds,” he said thoughtfully, setting the comb down. “But I do not know where Marcus is. I shall send someone….”
“No,” she said firmly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I do not want Marcus to come with us,” she said, her joviality slipping as she turned away from him and toward the wardrobe.
He observed her stiff back. “Why not?”
Her eyes met his insistently. “Because I do not…I do not want to see Marcus Burton ever again. I hate him, so leave it at that.”
He put his hands on his hips. “I will not leave it at that.” His eyes narrowed. “Does this have something to do with your accident?”
She didn’t answer him as she went to the wardrobe and began fumbling with a surcoat. He approached the wardrobe. “Answer me, Dustin. Does this have something to do with your fall?”
Her head snapped up to him, her face dark. “He was there.”
“Aye, he was there, at the base of the stairs,” Christopher agreed. “He is not responsible for what happened.”
She turned around and ripped a pair of slippers from the wardrobe. “I do not want to see him ever again, Chris. Tell him, or I will.”
“I do not think you are being fair, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “Marcus is devastated over what happened. He feels terrible.”
“He should,” she snapped, but clamped her mouth shut and pulled her shift over her head.
Christopher watched her angry, jerky movements a moment.
For some reason, she blamed Marcus for her loss but he could not understand why other than the fact that the man simply happened to be there when it occurred.
He wondered if she blamed him because he did not, or more correctly, could not help her.
Whatever the reason, he knew Dustin to be somewhat reasonable and knew that with time, she would forgive and forget.
At least, he hoped so.
*
They made quite a caravan. Christopher, in full armor along with David, Edward, Leeton and Dud, escorted Dustin and Deborah into London simply because Dustin was dying for a sticky bun.
To be out in the fresh air, although quite freezing, was refreshing nonetheless and Dustin’s pale face received color simply from the icy chill that turned her nose and cheeks red.