Chapter Fifty #4
Guy saluted sharply and spun on his heel, quitting the room in a jangle of armor. When all were gone, Christopher turned to Edward and, satisfied, drained his cup.
“Ah, I see the mighty Lion’s Claw has indeed returned,” Edward said with a faint smirk. “But, in faith, you look a bit pale and underfed. How do you feel?”
“Pale and underfed,” Christopher agreed. “But that will take care of itself. My concern right now is to return my wife home.”
Edward nodded in resignation; he knew there was nothing more he could say. “I am riding with you,” he said flatly. “Leave Kessler in charge of Lioncross.”
Christopher eyed him with an amused smile. Edward was becoming quite adept at giving orders, even to him. “Aye, my lord.”
*
Gowen had nearly passed out from the sight of Christopher, turning a sickly green until Christopher gave him a sharp slap on the cheek to bring him about.
Thrilled and stunned, he went to inform his wife and prayed the shock wouldn’t turn her milk sour.
Little Michael was having a difficult enough time feeding and Griselda was worried for the infant.
Deborah shrieked and cried with disbelief, crying even harder when Christopher entered her bedchamber and took her in his arms. Deborah sobbed over and over how mad Dustin had become, how consumed with grief she had been, and strongly urged him to go and get his wife.
Christopher swore that he would, but not before he held his new nephew a good, long time, remembering his sweet little Christin with great longing.
News of Christopher’s return spread through Lioncross and the village like a raging fire and before the hour was out peasants were turning up at the gates, clamoring to catch a glimpse of their lord. Christopher was touched, but he was more concerned with preparing for his journey.
Trouble was, he was feeling distinctly weakened from his ride home and he still wasn’t up to full strength.
He knew the ride to Windsor and then north would be a rough one, and to take on Marcus immediately in battle frankly worried him.
He had always been able to outfight Marcus, but in his weakened condition, he wasn’t sure if he would be successful.
He actually began to think that Marcus might have a chance to beat him but he quickly shoved that thought from his mind. He was the Defender. He was unbeatable.
“What’s wrong, Chris?” Edward was standing at the door to his bedchamber, gazing at him with concern.
Christopher realized he was hunched over, leaning on a chair for support. Quickly, he stood up. “Nothing at all,” he said. “Are the men preparing?”
“As you ordered, sire.” Edward came into the room. “Look, Chris, we both know you have seen better days. You are still recovering from that wound, I’d say. Mayhap your age is finally catching up with you.”
“I am only thirty-six,” Christopher replied. “I am not that damn old.”
“Aye, you are, and your body isn’t healing as well as it has in the past,” Edward said. “Just look at you; you are thinner than I have ever seen you and you lack the vigor of the Christopher I know. Mayhap you should wait before you try and tackle Marcus.”
“Nay,” Christopher snapped. “I am fine, Edward, so leave me alone. We ride tomorrow.”
Edward shook his head. “You cannot fight Marcus like this. He will murder you.”
Christopher flared, clenching his fists. “What would you suggest, then? Dustin is my wife, Edward, and the thought of her was the only thing that kept me alive. I must have her, I will have her, and if tearing down Somerhill is the only way to get her back, then so be it.”
Edward saw this situation for much more than it was.
Christopher wasn’t at all well, yet he still intended to charge north to take back what was rightfully his.
But it was more than that; he loved Dustin so fiercely that he was willing to risk his life to get her back. His heart ached for his friend.
“Why don’t you simply send a missive to Marcus and ask him to bring her back?” Edward said. “With you alive, his marriage to her is void. He has no claim on her.”
“Oh, Edward,” Christopher waved him off in irritation. “You said yourself how determined he was to keep her. He will not bring her back.”
“If Richard told him to, he might,” Edward said hopefully. “Richard would deny you nothing.”
Christopher shook his head and stripped off his tunic, giving Edward another view of the scar and his body. Not so much sheer mass anymore, but leaner and more defined. Aye, he was thinner, but he certainly did not lack for muscle. In fact, he looked better than Edward had ever remembered.
“If I cannot fight for what is mine, I certainly will not have anyone else do it for me,” he replied, grunting as he stretched out his torso muscles. “I appreciate your advice, Edward, but my mind is set. I go for Dustin tomorrow.”
Edward shrugged in defeat and quit the room, moving swiftly down the corridor and descending to the first floor. It would seem that he had a couple of missives of his own to send this night.