Knave of Hearts

by Anton, Shari

  And Stephen possessed a free spirit, a wanderer’s soul, subject to whims of fancy. If she tried to hold him too tight, she’d smother the essence of the man she professed to love.

  Marriage to Stephen gave the girls the protection of their father’s name, and Marian a measure of the security she craved. All in all, she’d rather live with Stephen than without him, loved him too much to do otherwise, would adjust to whatever changes she must. Stephen would have his share of changes to adjust to as well.

  ’Twas how most marriages began, was it not?

  Already three brigands dangled from the roadside tree, a warning to others who might contemplate villainy that the lord of Torgate tolerated none. The fourth brigand sat atop his horse—too fine a piece of horseflesh not to be stolen—with his hands tied and a rope looped around his neck, looking anywhere but at his fellows.

  Stephen had never given the order for such severe punishment before, but with these men he felt no qualms over making so harsh a judgment. Not a one of them had shown a bit of remorse for his misdeeds. If allowed a lesser punishment than death, they’d only move on to the next holding to plunder and kill and ravish again.

  A female just into her womanhood stepped forward from the crowd gathered to watch and cheer as each brigand received his punishment. Stephen looked into hazel eyes that reflected no joy of youth, only deeply held pain. Every time he saw Nettie, he thought of the degradation Audra or Lyssa might someday face, and his ire rose another notch. Nettie had asked permission to mete out this last brigand’s punishment, and he saw no reason to deny her request.

  Still, knowing her a fairly timid soul, he felt duty bound to let her back out if she chose. “Are you sure you wish to do this, Nettie?”

  “Aye, my lord,” she said quietly, and looked up into the face of the man about to hang. “He killed my father, then raped me. Aye, I am sure.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I want his horse afterward.”

  The spark of anger and outrageous demand gave Stephen hope she’d recover from her ordeal. “The horse is yours.” He handed her a willow switch and stepped back. “Hit hard enough to make him bolt.”

  Nettie nodded, then adjusted her grip. With a mighty swing she smacked the horse’s rump. The crowd cheered as the horse took off from beneath its former master. The rope went taut; the brigand’s neck snapped. Nettie dropped the switch and flew back to her mother’s open arms.

  His duty here was done. Almost. He wished he hadn’t agreed to stay tonight to preside over a feast prepared in his honor, but Torgate’s residents wanted to show their gratitude and celebrate the brigands’ capture and demise. So be it. He could rein in his patience for a few hours more, then be off at morning light.

  He’d been separated from Marian for a mere sennight. It felt like forever.

  The crowd began to disperse. Stephen accepted the thanks of those who passed by him, then headed toward where Armand and Harlan waited for him.

  “A decent few days’ work, my lord,” Harlan said. “Your tracking skills are to be commended.”

  High praise from the gruff old knight who’d taught him how to follow a trail.

  Armand rubbed his hands together. “No one will expect us back so soon. What say, Stephen? Perhaps a visit to London on the way back is in order.”

  There was a time he’d have agreed in a heartbeat. He loved the city, from the grand entertainments in Westminster Hall to listening to the hawkers at dockside. Just strolling the streets could prove exciting.

  “Not for me,” he said, drawing surprise from both companions. “You two may do as you wish, but I am for Branwick.”

  For a quiet hut on the edge of the hamlet. To Marian, whom he doubted had obeyed his wishes to reside at the keep. Stubborn woman. But he loved her anyway and couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than with Marian.

  Harlan rubbed his white bearded chin. “Branwick, hmm? Well now, there is young Edwin who might yet have a coin or two to wager.”

  Young Edwin? Naturally, to Harlan most everyone was young. Age was all a matter of one’s perspective, Stephen supposed.

  A spark of interest lit Armand’s eyes. “There is the little dairy maid who must miss me by now.”

  Amused, Stephen shook his head. “Neither of you are obliged to go with me. With our duty here done, you may return to Wilmont, even by way of London if you choose.”

  Harlan shook his head. “Best not let you go alone. You know how the baron worries over you.”

  Someday Gerard might stop worrying, like on the day the ocean turned into an ice pond. Stephen better understood his brother’s concern, however, for he now had worries of his own about those little darlings he’d protect with his very life if it came to it. Love did strange things to one’s perspective.

  “Then I welcome your company.” He glanced over his shoulder at the brigands. “Armand, see to it that Nettie has taken charge of her horse. Harlan, inform the steward the brigands are to stay up but three days, no more. I hate the sight of dangling bones.”

  Stephen then turned his sights north, where his next task awaited him—to prove to Marian that he’d changed, that she could trust him, love him. ’Twould take far longer than a few days, he didn’t doubt.

  Marian heard the pounding of hoofbeats and the jangle of tack long before the riders reached her hut. She set aside a partially decorated table linen to look out the door, telling herself ’twas foolish to look for Stephen so soon, but hoping all the same.

  As she passed through the doorway, Armand and Harlan flung up hands of greeting, never slowing their pace. With a flourish, Stephen reined his black stallion to a halt at her stone wall. He’d come for her. Finally. With an undignified whoop of joy she ran across the small yard and out the gate, giving Stephen barely enough time to dismount before she slammed into him.

  He picked her up, swung her around once, then lowered her for a kiss that melted her insides and stole away her breath. Hardly proper behavior for in the middle of the road, but she couldn’t bring herself to protest.

  Snug against Stephen, she listened to the beat of his heart, reveled in his firm embrace. “’Tis good to see you, my lord.”

  He chuckled. “Mayhap I should go away again just so I can return.”

  Marian’s racing heart slowed. She knew he teased her this time, and yet, only a few days ago the jest might have raised either her ire or panic. Perhaps she’d make him a good wife after all.

  He hugged her harder. “Ah, Marian. You have no notion of how much I missed you, and the girls. Are they here?”

  She tamped down the unwarranted, truly loathsome jealousy that he should ask after his daughters so soon. Naturally he wanted to see them. He loved them.

  “At the keep with William. I thought it best they spend as much time with him as possible before you returned. Shall we go fetch them?”

  “Not as yet. We need to talk first.”

  Marian braced for the worst—that while he was gone he’d regretted his hasty decision to marry her. She shouldn’t have let him go off without her, given him time on his own to regret his impulsive decision.

  Then she took a deep breath, upbraiding her tendency to make hasty assumptions where Stephen was concerned. ’Twas a bad habit she’d formed six years ago and needed to break.

  “Did all not go well at Torgate? Catch the brigands?”

  “Caught and punished. Did the twins come to understand why I had to leave Wilmont so suddenly? They seemed to take the news well when I stopped to say them farewell.”

  On that she could ease his mind. “They were far more upset at finding out their mother is not perfect. We have had several talks since over how grown people can make mistakes.”

  He kissed her forehead. “But you are perfect.”

  She couldn’t withhold a huff of disdain. “I am so far from perfect as to be laughable. Please do not expect it from me, as I will try very hard not to expect perfection of you.”

  He smiled then. “Agreed. Might I assume you have forgiven me for
leaving you, too?”

  “’Twas selfish on my part to want you all to myself. I know you have other obligations, not just to me and the girls, duties that will take you from us on occasion. I may not like it, but will strive not to hold it against you.”

  His fingers slid along her jaw, his expression puzzled. “Obligation? Sweet Jesu, Marian, you are not an obligation, but my life. Without you the rest means nothing. I love you, Marian, and will do whatever I must to prove myself worthy of you.”

  Her knees went weak. She stopped breathing. The man didn’t know it yet, but he’d just given her the greatest gift of all. His heart. ’Twas a thing she’d hoped for but not expected. Whatever else happened, she would cherish the gift, hold it close and keep it safe.

  “I love you, Stephen. Whatever else—”

  He cut off her words with another kiss, his hands moving over her in possessive, persuasive caresses. She needed no persuasion. Her body fired under the power of a kiss fueled by love declared without reserve, then trembled at his body’s declaration of his need for more than kisses.

  By the time his mouth released hers, Marian was ready to tear off his tunic and tug loose his breeches. Shameless. In the road, yet. The hut was empty.

  What would making love be like when under the influence of such heady emotions?

  Breathless, he asked, “Whatever did I do to deserve you?”

  “You came back to me.”

  Confused, he asked, “That is all?”

  She tried to think. “Love me and always come back to me. ’Tis all I require of you, my love.”

  Amusement touched his mouth. He cupped her bottom and pulled her hard against the bulge in his breeches. “All?”

  “Whatever else you might wish to do to further my happiness will be gratefully accepted, my lord.”

  He glanced up the road toward the keep. “By now Armand and Harlan have reached the keep. Everyone knows I am here, including our daughters. Have we time?”

  Marian tightened her hold around his neck. “Enough.”

  He swooped her up into his arms. “We should really be deciding about where to live, how best to approach your father for his permission to marry.”

  Wasn’t he going to be as shocked as she’d been when hearing that news? “All in due time. You have husbandly duties to perform first.”

  He set her down on the table. She leaned back on her elbows and gave him what she hoped was a come-hither smile.

  Sweat broke out on his upper lip. He fumbled with the ties of his breeches. “I am not your husband yet, my love.”

  My love. She’d never tire of hearing the words. “In my heart you are, always have been, I think.” Very slowly, she inched the amber silk of her skirts upward. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to think of us as lovers.”

  “Not me,” he declared. “I cannot wait to hear the vows which bind you to me, make you my wife. Then no matter what I do you are obligated to share my bed, my life.”

  Gladly. ’Twas what she wanted, too. “Then come give me your oath of forever and ensure I believe it.”

  He slid into her slowly, completely. “Us. Together for all time.”

  Marian took him in, as sword to sheath, tight and to the very hilt. Joined. Together again, this time forever.

  Stephen flung her high, beyond heaven, where only he could take her. As they soared, Marian believed.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-5969-3

  KNAVE OF HEARTS

  Copyright © 2001 by Sharon Antoniewicz

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