Chapter Thirty-Five #7
“Go to bed,” he told her firmly, his face set and hard.
She shook her head, “I will not. I must speak to you first.”
“I have no time, Dustin,” he said sternly. “For once, do as you are told.”
Dustin clenched her jaw. “I am not leaving until you let me speak with you.”
His jaw ticked and his blue eyes were dark and angry on her. “Dustin, do as you are told or God help me, I will spank you, child or no child.”
Tears, Dustin thought. Tears always soften the rock of a man.
Her eyes glistened with tears and she walked away from him, sobbing loudly but purely for effect.
She continued to walk, waiting for him to stop her, and was enraged when he did not.
Frustrated that her ploy hadn’t worked, she ran into the castle and wound her way back to the rear entrance to the abbey.
There was more than one way to gain her end.
Quiet as a mouse, she slipped in through the rear door, her eyes adjusting to the dark and cool interior.
She heard voices in the distance and she took the stairs, her eyes wide and alert to her surroundings.
The abbey had two levels, the lower level used for prisoners, and she assumed they had taken Gowen there.
There was only one way in and out, which concerned her, but she would have to try. She had to see him, to protect him.
Suddenly there was a massive body in front of her. “No, you don’t, you little vixen,” Christopher said sharply. “Back up the stairs. Now.”
He yelled and she jumped, but she did not turn tail as ordered. Instead, she pressed herself flush against the wall as he mounted the stairs and stood over her in a great, huffing mass of armor and flesh.
“Wife, I have no time for this foolishness,” he said severely. “If I have to take you back to our chamber, I shall tie you to the bed until I return, I swear it.”
The tears were real this time. “But I have to talk to you.” Her lips were trembling. “Please, Chris. Just for a moment.”
His features did not soften, but he did not reply right away. He continued to gaze at her for a moment. “What, then?”
She sniffed and cleared her throat. “Deborah told me what happened. What are you planning on doing with her husband?”
His brow rippled at the mention of his sister’s husband. “First and foremost, I have sent for a priest to annul the marriage,” he told her. “After that, I have yet to decide what to do with Master Olmquist.”
Dustin forced her fear down. She reached out and grasped her husband, wanting to touch him so he would know her sincerity.
“Please do not annul the marriage,” she begged softly. “They love each other so. They only did this because you were so cold this afternoon and they feared you would deny them.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What they did was disobedient and wrong, Dustin,” his voice was so low he was growling. “Whether or not they love each other is not the issue but the fact is that I cannot allow such blatant insubordination. ’Twas my decision to make; not theirs.”
Dustin shook her head. “The decision has already been made,” she sighed, suddenly very tired. He read her fatigue and helped her to sit on the stairs. She gazed up at him. “Why did you violate the monastery?”
He raised an eyebrow as he sat on the stair below her. “Because they had no legal or moral grounds to grant them sanctuary.”
“What?” she asked, confused and outraged. “They had every moral and legal right, Chris.”
He shook his head. “Deborah and Gowen were not fleeing death, nor great harm, nor famine, nor were they in any imminent danger of being separated or imprisoned. They requested sanctuary on purely groundless reasons.”
“Since when is love a groundless reason?” Dustin said quietly. “They did what they did because they were afraid of you. And because Deborah is pregnant.”
His gaze lifted, meeting her wide gray eyes. She held her breath, knowing the next few moments would determine his reaction, waiting and wondering what her husband was going to do.
“She is?” he asked. He pulled off his helmet and it went sailing, angrily, to the bottom of the stairs. A mailed hand raked through his damp hair. “Christ in Heaven, I cannot believe my ears. Dustin, she’s pregnant?”
“Aye,” Dustin reached out and touched his face, hoping to soothe him.
“As am I. She and Gowen are madly, deeply, hopelessly in love with each other. Now tell me, husband, if the situation were reversed and if it were you and I acting out the roles, would you have stopped at nothing to make me your own? She carries his child, Chris. Surely you can appreciate that.”
He was fuming. “Appreciate it? Damnation, I should spill his innards this very minute!”
“But you won’t,” Dustin said steadily. “He is the father of your future nephew, Chris. And Deborah’s husband.”
“Damnation,” he spat, his big body tensed as if he were contemplating some horrible action. Then he looked at her. “You knew about this all along, didn’t you? You even…even approve of this disgrace.”
“ ’Tis no disgrace to love someone and to want to have children,” she replied calmly. “What’s done is done, Chris. They are married now and the child will not be a bastard.”
He did not look at her, his expression hard as he stared off into the dimness of the abbey. She watched his face, continuing to stroke his hair lovingly and hoped beyond hope he was reconsidering his stance.