by Anton, Shari
“If I had been willing to marry you for the girls’ sake alone, I could have given my father your name. I had my reasons for defying him, for giving you your freedom then. Those reasons have not changed.” He flinched, as if she’d slapped him. If she didn’t go on she wouldn’t get it all out. “’Struth, you are not free to offer for me, having already spoken to Carolyn’s father about marriage. You cannot cast her aside for your convenience without doing her irreparable harm.”
He shook his head as if coming out of a daze. “Carolyn and I are not betrothed.”
“Not formally, but your family proclaimed your intentions last eve by inviting her to sit at the dais. I will not have her shamed or made the subject of gossip, which will surely happen if you do her honor one day and discard her on the next.”
He walked over to the chair and sat down, hunched over with his forearms on his thighs, staring at his clasped hands between his knees. “If I could do right by Carolyn, what then?”
Her insides churned and her heart bled. She took a resolving breath, gathered her pride.
“I still must refuse.”
“For the reasons you defied your father.”
She nodded.
“Would you mind telling me those reasons?”
Marian closed her eyes, allowed her chin to drop. She’d never told anyone. Stephen wasn’t just anyone, but the man she’d adored, still loved and couldn’t have. Maybe he didn’t deserve an explanation, yet if she gave him one, he might desist in this madness. He may as well have the truth and the whole of it. In the telling she might find hope that her own heart might heal.
She sat in the other chair.
“After you left, I spent…weeks waiting to hear from you. I could not believe you could leave me without a word, that what we shared meant so little to you.”
“I explained—”
“I know. I did not know then you and your father had been called away. Truly, it now matters not, nor did it then if I am honest. ’Twas not until I realized I had mistaken our lust for love that I came to my senses. You must forgive me for being young and naive.”
His head came up, his expression drawn. He said nothing. Marian swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She’d get through this without crying. She would.
“Shortly after Yuletide I began to suspect I carried. I put off telling my parents until my gowns grew too tight. Father demanded I name my lover, but I could not bring myself to tell him, knowing he would try to force a marriage. You see, by then I had realized two things. First, your father could have easily refused my father. You were the son of a baron, and I the daughter of a minor lord. Your father could have sent my father away, insulted and angry.”
“I doubt it would have come to that.”
“Mayhap not, but I wasn’t willing to hear I had been rejected once again, whether by your father…or you. I had also come to see that you and I would never suit. We would both have been miserable.”
He leaned forward. “How can you be so sure? You never gave us a chance to find out.”
“Think on it, Stephen. We were both a mere ten and six, I the lass who dreamed of a knight who would make me his wife, build me a strong manor and give me children, and you…the lad with visions of adventure in his heart. You wanted to visit Italy, climb mountains, sail the seas. You would have soon hated me for trying to bind you to a normal life, and I would have hated you for not loving me enough to give up your dreams.”
Unable to sit still, Marian got up and walked over to the cradle. Matthew’s lips were pursed, twitching. Hungry, she realized. He’d be awake soon.
She swallowed that annoying lump again. “I dreamed of hearth and home, crops and stone walls. You wanted to follow the flight of an eagle, just to see where it landed. You still do. ’Twas why you chose Carolyn to wed, because she does not care if you stay away for months at a time, prefers it actually.”
Marian found the courage to face Stephen again. “I could not be happy with such an arrangement.”
Stephen put his hands on his knees, pushed up to his feet. With hands crossed behind his back, he walked slowly toward her, his expression thoughtful.
“Marian, if Carolyn had not whisked you off to Bran-wick, what might you have done after your father threatened to show you the gate?”
Caught off guard by the question, Marian shrugged. “I—I suppose I might have gone to some town…and, oh, found somewhere to live.”
“Think on it, Marian. You were a mere ten and six, a noble lass with no funds, forced to live in squalor and beg for meals, and carrying. Would you have truly walked though the gate, or realized you were sentencing yourself to ridicule and starvation, and your child along with you?”
Marian shuddered to even think about it. Now that the girls were older, and she’d realized she could make a living with her needlework, she might be able to live on her own and still care for the girls. But back then?
He glanced over at Lyssa. “Do not misunderstand me. I am glad you had somewhere to go, people to care for you and the twins. But I believe Carolyn did you a disservice. If she had not interfered, I wonder if you would not have seen the sense in naming your lover. Once done, my father would not have shown your father Wilmont’s gate. And believe me, Marian, I would have remembered your name.”
Marian pursed her lips, thought chasing after thought in a whirlwind. She’d never considered Carolyn’s offer of shelter as interference, but as a kindness.
I would have remembered your name.
Perhaps, but in lust, not love. And for how long?
From the cradle came a mewing sound, a baby about to wake.
Stephen smiled, a sad smile. “I will let Ardith know her youngest will be calling her sooner than planned. You will let me know when you think the time right to tell the girls, will you not?”
“Certes.”
He headed for the door.
“Stephen.” He stopped, turned. “I know you think I did wrong, but I swear, you would have balked at a forced marriage as much as I.”
“Perhaps. But I cannot help think we might have come to some arrangement, mayhap even chased a few eagles together. Would that have been so bad, Marian?”
Three hours and too many goblets of wine later, Stephen paced Gerard’s accounting room.
“So there you have the whole sorry story,” he told his brothers. “Marian does not want me. She is willing to allow me a part of our daughters’ lives, but rejects marriage. If I did not love her so much I might strangle her. Damn, but she is a stubborn one.” He waved a goblet in the air. Luckily, he’d already emptied it. A shame to waste good wine. “How does a man make a woman like that see reason, I ask you?”
Richard and Gerard just looked at each other, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Gerard held back laughter. Neither answered.
“Harrumph. Some help you two are. Since you both have opinionated wives, one would think you might have figured out how to handle them by now. Especially you, Gerard. You and Ardith have been married for what, nigh on three years? And you have never been averse to giving me the benefit of your wisdom. Why withhold now?”
Gerard folded his arms on his writing desk. “I do not suppose that somewhere in all this you thought to tell Marian you love her.”
“Ha! Of course I thought of it. But tell her? Nay. She would not believe me, I swear. My declaration would fall flat, coming far too late to her way of thinking.”
“And why is that?”
Stephen plunked the goblet down on the desk, slammed his hands down next to it and leaned forward—then leaned back more upright. How much wine had Richard fed him?
“Because Marian would think I uttered the words because I want her to marry me.”
Gerard raised an eyebrow. “That is what you want, is it not?”
“Certes! But Marian will think I say I love her only because I want the girls, which I do, but I desire Marian, too.” He gave his head a quick shake, a bad mistake. “Did I make sense?”
Richard got up fro
m the chair and put a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “Come, sit down. Have another wine.”
Grand idea. One more goblet of wine and he’d likely pass out and wouldn’t have to grapple with Marian’s stubbornness or his brothers’ amusement anymore.
Richard handed him a full goblet. “So what do you intend to do?”
Stephen took a healthy swig. “Pass out and let Gerard tell Marian I love her.”
Gerard smiled, shook his head. “Hardly a good idea.”
“Why not? You are the baron. Steady as a rock, not off chasing hawks…eagles. She might believe you. She sure as hell is not going to believe me!”
“Then you need to find a way to convince her.”
Stephen shook his head, which was beginning to hurt. He may have to ask Ardith for some of that potion she’d used on Lyssa—the brightest spot of the entire day, besides learning the girls were his. Watching Lyssa skip out of the keep on her way back to the tent, her headache gone, had almost lowered him to tears.
Convincing Audra and Lyssa that he adored them wouldn’t be hard. Their mother, however—
“Marian is not about to let me swive her any time soon. Besides, your stables are too crowded. Always someone about.”
Gerard groaned and bowed his head. “You talk to him, Richard. I give up.”
Richard hauled up onto Gerard’s writing table. “A tumble in the hay is not what the lady wants.”
“She likes it in the hay. Goes wild. At least she used to. Could try a bed, I suppose.”
Richard sighed. “Marian wants proof you love her, not of your lust.”
“She is the only woman I am able to lust for. Is that not proof enough?” Stephen slapped a hand on the table. “That is when I should have known and told her, when I kissed Carolyn and nothing happened. Damn, missed opportunity.”
Gerard’s head came up. “Nothing?”
“Not a whimper.”
Richard cringed. “And with Marian?”
“I could swive her whilst standing in a cold river.”
Richard stared at him, disbelieving, then waved a hand in the air. “What Marian needs to know is that you are willing to give up chasing eagles. If not, then you had best learn to live without her. One or the other, Stephen. You cannot have both.”
Very carefully, Stephen set the goblet down. “Hearth and home, crops and stone walls. Settled and staid, like you two.”
“Oh, ’tis not so bad,” Gerard said. “’Struth, you need not become chained to the hearth. Ardith comes with me when I make my yearly tour of Wilmont’s holdings.”
Richard nodded. “Lucinda adores trips into Cambridge.”
Stephen rubbed at his face, knowing the problem ran much deeper. “Even if I could convince Marian I am willing to lead a more normal life, she may yet not trust me with her heart. I believe she loved me once, and she suffered for it. Why should she take the risk again?” He got up. “And Marian is right about Carolyn. I cannot, in all honor, simply shunt her aside because I find another woman more to my liking. The two are cousins, and Marian would think me the veriest cad if I shame Carolyn.”
After a few moments of silence, Gerard suggested, “You could lose the contest to Edwin.”
Lose the contest. For a moment it seemed a perfect solution.
“Nay, Marian would see though that ploy. Then she would think me not only the veriest cad but a dishonest knave. Somehow, I need to get Carolyn to reject me.”
“Well, you could take Carolyn to your bed, and if nothing happens—”
Stephen tossed his head back and laughed. “Oh, Gerard, I have had too much to drink, but not that much! Can you imagine Carolyn telling Marian of how I tried to bed her and could not perform husbandly duties? I think not.”
Richard rubbed his chin. “This morn, when we talked of finding Edwin a wife, mayhap we should have talked of finding Carolyn a husband. What of Edwin?”
“Never work. Carolyn rejects him because of his age.”
“How old is he?”
“Not sure. He has a few silver strands in his hair, though.”
“Means nothing.”
“Does to Carolyn. Edwin also has this notion that a woman cannot oversee her own lands.” Stephen frowned. “I believe this contest has proved to him she is more than capable, but the man is not likely to admit it.”
“Not even to win Carolyn? Does Edwin love her?”
He blew out a long breath. “I believe he cares a great deal for her, but even if he softened his stance, there is still his age.” Stephen picked up his goblet, set it back down. “I need a walk to clear my head. Mayhap I will go visit Lyssa, see how she does. Mayhap Marian is ready to tell the girls.” He headed for the door. “My thanks for listening. You may tell Ardith and Lucinda the news, but for now, no others.”
“You will be back for evening meal?” Gerard asked.
“Sure. Why not. I hear Ardith is having boar roasted, my favorite. I would not wish to disappoint her.”
He closed the door quietly behind him.
Richard sank into the chair. “Must be serious. I cannot recall ever seeing Stephen this dejected.”
“I do. ’Twas right after Ardith and Daymon were kidnapped. Stephen, Corwin and I were forming a plan to go after them. He sat there with his shoulder all wrapped up and his ear still bleeding, inconsolable because he felt he failed Ardith. No matter that he attacked five armed men with his bare hands, nearly got himself killed. He could barely sit a horse, yet he rode out with us and accounted himself well. To this day he feels unworthy of Ardith’s regard.” He waved a hand at the door. “And now he feels he failed Marian, is unworthy of her love even though he wants it so badly he would give up all he holds dear for her. Thickheaded, stubborn, obstinate—”
Richard laughed. “Sounds like you. So what do we do?”
“Nothing, unless he asks us to. We have both pulled him out of trouble before. This time he needs to do it on his own.”
“And if he cannot?”
“Then he just may take that trip to Italy he has always talked about and we may not see him for years.”
Chapter Sixteen
He found Marian sitting in the shade of the tent, leaning against a support, her eyes closed.
I love you, Marian. I swear it.
But how to make her believe? Impossible? Nay, there must be a way.
Richard believed Marian didn’t want a tumble in the hay, but she’d sure craved a swiving in the river. He could still feel her legs wrapped around him, taste her skin where he’d kissed her neck—before he’d been too damn honorable to take advantage. He’d not make that mistake again. If Marian ever showed the least sign of surrender, he’d give her what she wanted, wherever she wanted it, for as long as wanted it. Satisfy her so thoroughly she’d beg for more.
He knew Marian desired him with all the fire he remembered so well. If he reminded her of how well their bodies melded, how delicious and satisfying their joint ecstasy, might she yield? Or would she again tell him to seek offers elsewhere?
Could a woman like Marian give herself to a man she didn’t love? He thought not. So if she allowed him entry to her body, that meant she’d already given him her heart.
Stephen prayed he was right. She’d turned aside offers of marriage, not wanting or loving those men. Hard to believe that over all these years she’d never coupled with any other male, but Stephen was willing to wager he’d been her first and last lover. Only lover.
Strange, but fate had brought him back to Marian. Through the years, his wanderings, other women. Back to the first, the best, and now the only.
If Marian made love with him, then there was hope for a future between them. If not…
Dear Lord, let me do this right.
He lowered down onto the grass beside her. She opened her eyes, sleep softened and wary. He picked up her hand and raised it to his lips.
“Hail, mother of my children. Girls in the tent?”
She pulled her hand away, sat up straighter. “Nay. On o
ur way out of the keep, the earl of Warwick’s wife invited them to play with her children.”
Stephen glanced over at the huge, emerald-green tent a good ways across the field. “Lyssa must not be ailing if you let her go.”
Marian smiled so fully her eyes sparkled. “She is. I cannot tell you what a relief it is to have finally found a potion to ease her headaches so quickly.” She tilted her head. “I have you to thank, in part. Ardith may have brewed the potion, but ’twas you who brought us to Wilmont. My thanks.”
Gratitude. Not a bad thing. He’d take whatever help he could get.
“Seemed the right thing to do, at the time. Little ones should not suffer so.” He glanced again at the earl’s tent. “Will the girls be back soon?”
Her smile faded. “I know you are anxious to tell them, but I fear you must wait a while longer. The girls will have evening meal with the earl’s children. I am not to collect them until after supper.”
Splendid. How terribly thoughtful of the earl’s wife to have left Marian on her own. Carolyn was at the keep. The tent was empty save for several pallets. Nice soft pallets.
“A few hours one way or the other does not matter. Just so we do not put it off too long.”
“You told your brothers?”
He’d told his brothers far more than he should have, but both could be trusted to keep a confidence.
“I also told them they could tell their wives, but no others. In that I will respect your wishes.”
Pleased with his answer, Marian leaned back on her hands, stretching the bodice of the rough-weave gown tight across her bosom. His fingers itched to reach out, stroke a nipple to hardness. His loins quickened. Within the space of a breath his privates strained against his breeches, begging freedom, urging a mating with the woman spread out on the grass.
“I fear Ardith will look down on me now, knowing the girls were born…as they were.”
“Not Ardith, nor Lucinda. Both became lovers to my brothers long before they married. They cannot fault you for surrendering to desire when they did not resist.”
“A small consolation. Both surrendered to men who they then married, while I—” She blushed, then got to her feet. “The gowns of Christina’s. I want you to return them to her. I will fetch them.”