Free Rise of the Defender by Kathryn Le Veque

becoming enchanted by her faint expression and was seized
with the desire to see her smile even larger. He was very curious to see what
sort of smile she could display; was it charming? Twisted? Did she even have
all of her teeth?
         “That beast is as large as a lamb,” he
remarked. “What do you feed it? Small children?”
         As he had hoped, she smiled wide and he was
absolutely captivated. As beautiful as she was, her whole face changed dramatically
when she revealed her straight, white teeth and deep dimple in her left cheek.
         “Nay, my lord, only chicken and innards,”
she replied softly, scratching the cat’s ears. “’Tis all he will eat. But he is
a fine hunter.”
         “No doubt,” he cocked a dubious brow. “I will
have to watch that he does not hunt me . I have a feeling that I would
become supper.”
         She gave a small laugh and he found himself
smiling in return. But when her eyes moved to him once again, he quickly erased
his smile. For some reason, he did not want her to see that she had affected him
that way.
         “I will leave you and Caesar, then,” he
moved for the door, strangely feeling better that the cat had made an
appearance, as if the animal could watch over her. “Sleep well, my lady.”
         She watched him close the door, still
scratching the cat. Her smile faded and in the darkness of the room, she had
never felt more alone in her entire life.
         Her husband was a cold man. Even in his kindness,
he was a cold barbarian, for his kindness was forced and unreal. When he had
held her with those massive, warm arms, he was stiff and not at all comforting.
It was obvious he didn’t like her, although he had called her beautiful. Strange ,
she thought. Mayhap he just meant her hair and not the whole of her. Or mayhap
he liked the color of her eyes. Whatever the reason, he was not sincere.
         Sadness swept over her and tears came to
her eyes once again. Tears of grief for her mother, tears of pity for herself.
         She was entirely alone.
     
     
     
     
     

 
     
    CHAPTER
FOUR
     
     
         Dustin buried her mother next to her
father’s parents in the tiny chapel of Lioncross. She would have liked to have
had a nice wake and mass for her mother, but with the oppressive heat, the body
simply would not keep, and they buried Mary two hours after dawn.
         Christopher stood a few feet away from
Dustin, stoically listening to the same priest who had married them intone the
funeral mass. He could hear Dustin’s faint sobs, wondering if he should lend
her some sort of comfort but not making the effort to try. Deep down, he didn’t
want to be embarrassed if she refused him. And he knew she would.
         His wife was dressed in black, from head to
toe, only her porcelain face evident underneath the voluminous wimple. She was
so pale that the contrast was striking. And she had dark circles under her
eyes; evidence that she had disobeyed him last night and had not gone back to
sleep.
         The mass was over and the priest moved to
Dustin, whispering a few words of comfort to her. She nodded but did not reply,
instead, continuing to stare at the fresh grave.
         Christopher glanced at the other knights,
standing several feet away, and dismissed them with a faint jerk of his head.
The servants and a few peasants had already left, trekking down the soft green
slope and back toward the keep. He waited until everyone was well out of range
before attempting to approach Dustin.
         “We should return now,” he said softly,
standing behind her.
         She didn’t respond and he wasn’t sure if
she even heard him. He gazed off across the village in the distance and sighed.
“My lady, the day grows wa….”
         He was cut off when she whirled around in a
great gush of black material, her gray eyes dark and her face flushed.
         “I hate you,” she spit at him. “You caused
all of this,