Chapter Thirty-Five #3
Dustin was as giddy as a new bride as he took her up to the chamber he had occupied before leaving for London. He was not surprised to see that she had moved all of her personal belongings into them, as he had told her he would do when he returned.
He smiled and sat her down in a hide-covered chair. “Now, I would get a good look at you without all of those infatuated schoolboys hanging about,” he said softly, moving to remove his armor.
Dustin saw what he was doing and stood up again. “Let me help you.”
“Nay, sweetheart, I will do this alone,” he waved her off. “I left Darren in London to visit with his mother and I forbid you to take his place.”
“But I have helped you with your armor on numerous occasions,” she insisted.
“But you were not carrying my babe on those occasions,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. His breastplate clattered to the floor and he pulled off his tunic, moving to his hauberk. “How have things been around here?”
“Well,” she said, watching him with his leg armor. “Jeffrey has been keeping the collections from the border revenues in some secret place; he wouldn’t even tell me. He said that only you would know their location and worth. And the village has been peaceful.”
“No raids?” he asked.
“Not since I have been home,” she replied. “Strange; the Welsh seemed to have stopped their aggressions altogether. The merchants and travelers that come over the border have been very friendly and honest.”
“How would you know?” he looked at her in the process of removing his tunic. “You haven’t been out carousing the village in your condition, have you?”
Her chin jutted up. “I have gone into the village a few times, husband. I have always taken Jeffrey or Max or Anthony with me, as you requested.”
He frowned. “They know better than to allow you to roam about and tire yourself. I will have to have a talk with them.”
“You shall do nothing of the sort,” she said firmly. “They had no choice in the matter; I was going with or without them.”
His look was most reproachful as the tunic hit the floor. “You are most obstinate, Lady de Lohr. Now that I am home, things will be as they should.”
She suddenly smiled up at him. “Say it again.”
“What? That things shall be as they should? Or that you are obstinate?”
“Nay,” she said softly. “Lady de Lohr.”
He met her smile, sinking to his knees in front of her and enveloping her and the chair with his massive arms. “Lady de Lohr,” he whispered. “The Lady Dustin Mary Catherine Barringdon de Lohr.”
She giggled and ran her hands through his blond hair, tracing his features and reacquainting herself with his thick face.
“I am so glad you are back,” she whispered. “Do you have any new scars to report to me before I find them and become upset?”
He looked as thoughtful as he could under her silky touch, paying more attention to her hands than to her question. “Scars?” he repeated. “A few, mostly on my arms and one on my leg. Nothing terrible.”
“Then you were not wounded severely in any way?” she pressed, ceasing to stroke his head and pulling his left arm in front of her where she could inspect it.
He flipped his wrist over so she could inspect a two-inch scar on the underside of his thick forearm.
“I got that when my horse disobeyed a command, damnable beast. But in answer to your question, no, I was not severely wounded in any way. Edward was the only knight in my command to be severely wounded.”
She ran a finger over his new scar. “He still has trouble walking, Chris. And I have heard the knights say that he is afraid to pick up a sword. Do you suppose he does not want to fight anymore?”
Christopher’s heart sank a little; he had had the same suspicions about Edward.
The man just had not seemed himself since he had been wounded.
Mayhap now that he was returned, he could convince Edward otherwise.
The man was a fine knight, one of the very best, else he would not have been in the Defender’s service.
“Edward was nearly killed, sweetheart,” he replied. “ ’Tis natural that he may be afraid to go into battle again, but I shall deal with him. Now tell me; how is my sister and why have I not seen her?”
Dustin smiled most marvelously. “Oh, Chris, you will be so happy to hear that Deborah is in love.”
“In love?” he repeated sharply. “With whom?”
“A man from the village,” she replied. When Christopher’s mouth opened in outrage, she put a hand over his lips to allow her to finish. “He is a scholar, Chris. He teaches the children in the village to read and he is deeply admired and respected. He and Deborah have fallen in love.”
“My sister is in love with a scholar?” he said through her hand and she removed it. “Where is she, Dustin?”
“With him,” she replied, still smiling. “He holds class three days a week and Deborah helps him. Even now, he is teaching a whole room full of children to read. The class is over at the monastery.”
He was truly flabbergasted. How could he possibly be angry that his sister was missing? Deborah was in love, properly escorted in a monastery filled with priests, helping her lover teach a class of children. Nothing suited her more, but that was not the point.
“This man is not even a knight?” he asked.
“Nay,” she replied. “His father was a scholar, and his grandfather a bishop. He is very smart, almost as smart as you. I think you will like him.”
Christopher stood up, rubbing his chin absently. “He is not of our station, Dustin. I do not know if I can allow this to continue.”
Dustin stood up. “Why not?” she asked. “No one else has asked for Deborah’s hand, and she truly loves this man. You cannot possibly condemn them.”
He sighed; it was so much more complicated than that.
“Dustin, it is not a matter of condemning them or not. Deborah is my sister, a de Lohr, and when I choose her husband I must be sure that the man is capable of protecting her. Deborah is nearly as vulnerable as you because of her relationship to me.”
Dustin saw his point but she was greatly distressed on Deborah’s behalf.
“Chris, Deborah has known so little happiness in her life. She was raised from infancy by strangers because you and David were off on your own, and for the first time in her life she has a sense of belonging and of family. She loves Gowen. She wants to be his wife and have her own family.”
“Gowen. The man’s name is Gowen,” Christopher snorted ironically. “Christ, even his name sounds scholarly.”
Dustin put her hands on her hips irritably. “Well, if you are so worried about your sister’s safety, then send a troop of soldiers to protect her. Why does the husband always have to do the protecting, as if that were part of the husbandly oath?”
“Because it is,” he said. “A husband is required to protect his wife, and to bear arms to be able to defend what is his. What is Gowen going to do when confronted with those who would harm my sister? Read them to death?”
He said the name “Gowen” as if the man was a feminine little frill, and Dustin was greatly annoyed.
“Where does it say that in order to be a good husband, you must know how to bear arms?” she demanded.
“The knowledge of warfare and weapons does not guarantee a satisfactory husband. Take the Earl of Fenwark, for example; the man fought admirably, yet he was a terrible husband. If you had to pick between Gowen and the earl for Deborah, which choice would you make? A man who would love her and be kind to her, or a man who would simply protect her should the need arise, and to hell with everything else.”
He gazed back at her, impressed with her argument, but firm nonetheless. “I must do what I feel is right for my sister,” he said. “ ’Tis not her choice to make, nor yours, nor Gowen’s. ’Tis mine.”
Dustin crossed her arms angrily over her rounded stomach. “And what if Deborah were your daughter, Chris? Would you marry her off to a man simply because he could protect her and forget about her happiness?”
His stance softened imperceptibly. “Dustin, you are asking me to make a decision of the heart when I must make it of the head.”
“And you are avoiding answering me because you know I am I right,” she said, feeling herself gaining the advantage.
“If you are so concerned with Deborah’s protection, then why can’t she and Gowen live here, with us?
That way, you will be able to protect her always.
Would you deny her the happiness we have found? ”
He stared back at her for a few moments. When he spoke, his voice was soft and warm. “When did you become so wise?” he asked. “Did this miraculously happen while I was away?”
She grinned. “I have had to do several things on my own since you were away, including sleeping alone in your great bed.”
“No longer,” he said, returning her smile. After a moment, he sighed with resignation. “Very well, wife. I will meet this Gowen and decide for myself whether or not he is worthy of my sister.”
“Stop saying his name so disdainfully,” she insisted. “I have known Gowen since we were children. He is a fine man.”
He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her over to the bed. “He was not, perchance, one of the many suitors you had while your father was away?”
She shook her head. “Nay, he wasn’t interested in me or the keep. But he is very interested in Deborah.”
Christopher grumbled. “Well for him that he did not set his sights on you, else I would not allow him near my fortress.”
She only smiled, thinking how firmly he spoke of other men’s feelings for her when he had allowed Marcus, mayhap the biggest threat of all, to be so close to her.
She remembered Deborah’s own words, how Christopher had feigned ignorance where Marcus was concerned because of his respect for Marcus, and she saw the words to be true.
He had killed on her behalf before and was not hesitant to do so again, yet he completely overlooked Marcus Burton.
She wondered if he knew of the full extent of her relationship with Marcus, if he would still continue to overlook the obvious.
She doubted it.
*