Knave of Hearts (4 page)

“My father once purchased horses from Wilmont’s stock.”

“Fine stock.”

“That it is.” The lords of Wilmont bred quality horseflesh, the finest in the kingdom. Those who could afford the steep price settled for no less. “’Tis nearly time for evening meal, my lord. Shall I have your meal brought to you?”

“When the eggs are done. Sit a moment, Marian.”

Until William gave her leave to go, she must remain. Hoping Ivo wouldn’t fetch Stephen until after she left, as he’d said, she perched on the edge of the bed.

“I have noted,” William said, “that in the months since you returned from Westminster, you have never expressed an opinion of Carolyn’s desire to marry this Stephen of Wilmont. Surely you, too, must have one.”

She did, but one she chose not to share. In the end, only Carolyn’s wishes mattered. So Marian had made peace with her inner turmoil, hoping if the marriage came to pass Stephen would take Carolyn off to some distant manor of his, so she wouldn’t be forced to witness their union for very long.

“The matter of who Carolyn marries is truly none of my concern. That choice is hers, with your approval.”

“Did you see him in Westminster?”

Marian hoped the rush of warmth coursing through her didn’t manifest on her cheeks. She’d seen far too much of Stephen’s smooth, bare chest. Been close enough to notice his arousal, ready for a romp in bed with a woman. With Carolyn.

“I did.”

“And?”

“And, my lord, I think you should form your own opinion without hearing mine to influence you.”

“You do not like him.”

I loved him—desperately
.

Marian rose from the bed, turning aside to hide what pain might inadvertently show. Her memories of Stephen and their time together came in quick, vivid flashes.

She’d mistaken his male lust for love. After all they shared, or rather what she’d believed they shared, Stephen left her without a word of farewell and never returned. Abandoned her to face disgrace and shame—

Marian silenced a young maiden’s outrage at the injustice, for she’d passed by her chance for justice. When she’d found herself with child, she refused to name her lover. If she had, her father would have demanded a marriage. By then, she had come to realize that putting Stephen to harness would be as like to capturing the wind. His free spirit would balk at the forced marriage.

He might marry her, but he would never be a true and steady husband, one who would gladly share life’s joys and sorrows.

Better no husband at all than one who resented being a husband. Better no father for her children at all than one who wouldn’t be there when needed.

She’d never regretted her decision, not even when her
father banished her for wanton behavior and insolence. Thankfully, Carolyn had witnessed the sorry debacle and intervened, and brought a rebellious and very pregnant Marian home to Branwick.

Here at Branwick, only Carolyn and William knew the whole of the story, but neither of them knew who’d sired her girls. They’d never asked and she never told.

Marian turned back to the uncle who’d given her succor, her expression indifferent—she hoped.

“I met Baron Everart of Wilmont and his son, Stephen, when they came to Murwaithe to deliver horses. At the time, I considered Stephen brash, something of a scoundrel, and suffering from wanderlust.”

William’s smile covered only half of his face. “A rogue, hmm? ’Tis what Carolyn says she wants.” His expression turned thoughtful. “I met Stephen’s father a time or two, a powerful yet decent man. The brother, Gerard, is well respected. I know little of Stephen. Dare I hope he possesses some sense?”

Marian kept her peace, unwilling to offer more of an opinion on Stephen’s character. She doubted Stephen had changed over the years, but ’twas not her place to belittle him. Nor did she wish to rouse William’s curiosity over just how well Marian knew Stephen of Wilmont.

“You will have to judge for yourself, William.”

“I suppose I shall.” He shifted against the bolster. “Have Ivo send in my body servants. I wish to dress for evening meal. You will stay, of course.”

Marian fought a flash of panic, realizing William intended to be carried to the table to preside over supper, likely in honor of Stephen. Sweet mercy, she wanted no part of it.

But the girls were off having the eggs boiled and
would be greatly disappointed if not allowed to eat them with William, and she
had
neglected her uncle of late.

Though she determined earlier she couldn’t completely avoid Stephen, she wished as little contact with him as possible. Perhaps he’d be preoccupied with charming Carolyn and impressing William, too busy to notice her or the girls. Highly unlikely. Still, she could hardly refuse William’s simple request.

Resigned to an uncomfortable evening, Marian took leave of William. “I will inform Ivo.”

Marian closed the curtain, came around the foot of the bed, and stopped abruptly.

Near the high table, standing beside Ivo, looking every bit the handsome, high-born noble, stood Stephen.

Marian hoped her dismay didn’t show as readily as Stephen’s surprise. His spring-green eyes widened. He cut short whatever he’d been saying to Ivo.

She dismissed the fluttering around her heart as simply recognition by a healthy woman of an attractive man. Once, she’d thought herself in love with Stephen, but no longer. She now knew the difference between lust and love. No matter that his body drew hers, like iron to lodestone, she’d not give him the chance to once again ruin her life.

Best she get this first encounter done and over, keeping in mind that this Norman lord could destroy the life and peace she and her girls had found at Branwick.

W
hat was Marian doing at Branwick?

He’d envisioned her at home on some distant manor with her husband and child, far from where she could distract him.

Such a distraction. Gowned in dove gray, the linen’s weave rough and suited for workaday wear, Marian gracefully floated toward him. So beautiful. He’d thought so from the first moment he set eyes on her—standing beside her mother on the steps of Murwaithe, awaiting presentation to the baron of Wilmont and his youngest son.

The two of them had made an effort to resist an instant and powerful attraction. On the third day of his visit, however, they gave in to their lust—and once done, easier done.

“Stephen, I fear your audience with my uncle must wait a few moments,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact, and yet melodic. She turned to Ivo. “His lordship wishes to sit at table for evening meal. He asks you to send his body servants to him.”

“At once, my lady. I gather you and our guest have met.”

She glanced Stephen’s way before she admitted, “We have.”

Most assuredly they had. So many years ago and so well met. For two days they’d taken every chance to place eager hands and warm mouths on each other’s bodies. Well met, indeed.

Stephen bowed in her direction. “Lady Marian and I have known each other for several years. Mayhap she and I can renew our acquaintance while I await his lordship’s convenience.”

Ivo’s eyebrow arched. “Only a moment ago you were ready to tear down the draperies from around his lordship’s bed.”

Stephen shrugged off his former impatience. True, he needed to talk to William, but the mystery of Marian’s presence proved too enticing to resist further examination. Obviously she was visiting Branwick, but why and for how long? With or without her child and husband?

Had she ever tumbled in the hay with her husband? How odd he should wonder. Even odder he should realize he’d never tumbled in the hay with any other woman.

“’Twould hardly further my cause if I disturbed his lordship at an untimely moment,” he explained to Ivo. “I shall wait until he is fully prepared for my visit.”

Ivo took his leave.

Stephen took a longer than normal breath, remembering the unease of his last conversation with Marian. Part of that unease, certes, had been their state of undress and seclusion in a bedchamber. Yet, even though they stood in Branwick’s hall, with servants scurrying about to prepare for evening meal, with Armand hovering nearby, Stephen’s body and mind were firmly engaged by the woman standing before him.

“I do not see you for many years, then you appear in the most
unexpected
places,” he said, then could have bitten his tongue for evoking the faint blush that bloomed on her cheeks.

He’d seen her turn vivid scarlet once before, her face and chest fully involved. She’d been astride him at the time. He hadn’t known those many years ago what that meant, but he did now—a female reaching her full pleasure. Try as he might, he couldn’t tamp down the pride of realizing he’d brought Marian to her peak without knowing what he was doing. He truly hadn’t—which meant Marian must be one of those women who reached bliss with little effort on her bed mate’s part.

So much for pride.

Marian’s husband must be delighted with so easily pleased a lover for a wife, if he cared at all. Many men didn’t, which made no sense. Pleasured bed mates made for eager bed mates.

“I hear Carolyn did not receive you well.”

The edge in Marian’s voice both rebuked him for reminding her of their meeting in a bedchamber, and turned the conversation back to Carolyn—whose rebuff had been witnessed by enough people that the tale would have spread swiftly to all in Branwick.

Stephen hadn’t a doubt he would be back in Carolyn’s good graces by the end of evening meal. He must be, despite the distraction of Marian, whose good graces wouldn’t be so easily obtained.

Knowing full well it wasn’t true, but not willing to admit to anyone but himself that his intended bride had purposely deserted him, Stephen prevaricated. “Apparently I intruded on Carolyn’s previously made plans for an afternoon ride.”

“Mayhap your visit with William will go better. He cannot get up and walk out on you.”

Marian turned as if to leave.

“How fares William?” he asked, partly because he wanted prior knowledge of the man’s current mood. Partly because Carolyn had already turned her back on him and he hated the thought of Marian repeating the insult.

“His mood or his health?” she asked.

“Both.”

“His mood is decent and his health is improved.”

Not much to go on.

“I gather his illness does not keep him abed permanently.”

She hesitated a moment before answering. “The apoplexy drained his strength and restricts his movements. He remains abed, for the most part, because he does not like having servants carry him about. My uncle’s body may be sorely afflicted, and one must listen carefully when he speaks, but have a care not to mistake his slur for lack of intelligence.”

“My thanks for your help.”

“I do not tell you this to help you, but for William’s sake. I would not have him upset because you treated him in thoughtless fashion.”

Marian’s admonishment stung. Surely, she knew him better. True, he possessed the devil’s own temper when crossed unfairly, and a nobleman’s natural expectation of deference. He wasn’t so high flown with himself, however, that he’d treat William as a lesser man because of his affliction.

On the edge of his vision, Stephen saw two young men slip behind the draperies, one carrying a pitcher and
washbasin, the other bearing what must be garments. They would soon have William suitably robed.

“Your caution is unnecessary,” he told her.

“Is it? I do not remember you as the most considerate of lads.”

It irked him that Marian hadn’t forgiven him for a lapse of manners nearly six years ago, a lapse not his fault. Nor had she seen fit to accept his tardy but sincere apology, having told him it came too late. ’Twas as if she thought him both brainless and unfeeling.

Damned if he’d apologize again. If the woman chose to hold a youthful mishap against him, so be it. He didn’t need her good opinion. ’Twas Carolyn he must win over, not Marian.

“I intend to treat William de Grasse with no less than his rank and intelligence deserves. ’Twould not further my interests to do otherwise.”

She blinked, then said softly, “Nay, you would not treat a man of rank with disregard. I should have known better than to think you would.”

He didn’t know how to answer, and indeed Marian didn’t give him the chance. She spun around and walked toward the door.

“You do have a way with the ladies today,” Armand commented.

Stephen winced, having forgotten Armand stood so close as to overhear. Thank the Lord the young man could be trusted not to reveal this latest debacle.

Women. He thought he understood them, how their minds worked. Indeed, not until today had he questioned his ability to talk to a female in perfectly reasonable fashion. How had he managed to fail so completely with two women on one day?

Ivo came toward him. “His lordship awaits you.”

Grateful for what he hoped would be sensible meeting of minds, Stephen followed the steward to the right side of the bed.

Carolyn’s father appeared much as Stephen expected: aged, white-haired and withered. But, possibly due to Marian’s cautions, Stephen noted the sharp clarity and unmistakable self-assurance within the man’s deep-set brown eyes. Carolyn had inherited her father’s eyes, his intelligence, and most probably his stubborn nature.

Stephen nodded to William de Grasse, who occupied a bed with the dignity befitting a king upon his throne. “Good tidings, William. ’Tis good we finally meet.”

“You find your bedchamber to your liking, your lordship?” he asked, the words slightly ill formed.

“I have traveled widely, both in England and without. I find no lack in Branwick’s hospitality.”

William’s head bobbed slightly at the compliment. He folded his right arm over the unmoving left. “Your travels kept you away overlong, Stephen of Wilmont. So much so that my daughter cast aside her good manners and left the hall in a snit. I will, certes, speak to her about her rudeness, though you
did
sorely test her temper.”

Stephen withheld a request to ignore Carolyn’s behavior. ’Twas a father’s right to reprimand his children, no matter their sex or age. Stephen could only hope for light discipline so Carolyn wouldn’t be more upset with him than she was already.

However, he wasn’t about to apologize to either father or daughter for helping his brother.

“Carolyn’s expectations aside, I took charge of a task for my brother, Richard. The duty took me longer than anticipated.”

William said nothing, only looked at him expectantly.
Stephen allowed that a fuller explanation might be in order. A man might understand what a woman might not and, given Carolyn’s hard feelings, he needed William’s good opinion.

“King Henry settled the guardianship of an orphaned boy on Richard. I offered to inspect the boy’s lands in Normandy and assess any threat of interference from his paternal relatives. There was resistance, not over the boy, but over control of the fees and rents from the boy’s inheritance.”

“You arranged a bargain?”

He had, except Richard hadn’t liked the bargain. In the time it had taken Stephen to bring the boy’s uncle to England to exchange Philip for more coin and goods than Richard could ever hope to gain in one fell swoop, his brother had grown fond of his ward and wouldn’t give over.

“Nay, only brought the two parties together so a bargain could be reached.”

“Then your brother’s problem is resolved.”

“So I believe.”

William frowned. “You do not know?”

The accusatory tone didn’t sit well.

“The last I saw of the boy’s uncle, he was returning to Normandy without taking his nephew. Richard considered the matter done, so I left Richard’s holding for Wilmont, to report on the situation to our brother, Gerard.”

“I see.”

Stephen heard disapproval. That William thought Stephen left his brother without hope of further aid wasn’t to be borne, no matter how much he wanted William’s goodwill. He did, however, try to keep his anger under control. ’Twas his loss of temper that had gotten Richard
into trouble, and Stephen sensed he was in quite enough trouble now without inviting more.

“Should Richard need further help he need only send to Gerard, who will bring every resource of the barony of Wilmont to play, if warranted. Gerard also knows where to send for me if I am needed. Though I thank you for your concern over my brother’s welfare, I assure you ’tis not necessary.”

William waved a dismissing hand in the air. “I have no doubt Gerard of Wilmont can take care of any problem that may come his way. ’Tis you I have my doubts about, Stephen.”

Very aware of his less than steady reputation, and knowing it was one of the reasons Carolyn considered his suit, Stephen asked warily, “How so?”

“Let me say that I do not consider you a suitable mate for my daughter.”

Not suitable? He was a knight of Wilmont, a member of one of the most powerful families in the kingdom. His wealth far surpassed that of William de Grasse. If he had a mind to, he could gather more men-at-arms than necessary to lay siege to Branwick and take it by force. Surely the man knew Stephen of Wilmont to be a better match for his daughter than lowly Edwin of Tinfield.

Had the apoplexy somehow affected William’s mind more than anyone at Branwick, including Marian, wanted to admit?

“Your daughter considers me suitable.”

“My daughter also believes herself capable of overseeing Branwick and her dower lands without assistance.” William tilted his head. “If Carolyn considers you more suitable than Edwin, then why is she out riding with him instead of attending you?”

Stephen couldn’t comment on Carolyn’s ability to manage her and her father’s lands, but he was fairly sure of why Carolyn had dragged Edwin out of the keep.

“To test my resolve. Carolyn wants to know if I insult easily, and if I can give back as good as she gives. I suspect her elderly husbands could not.”

The corner of William’s mouth twitched. “I gather you believe you can?”

“Aye, I believe I can.”

“We shall see.”

William’s attention swerved to the sound of little feet pounding across the rushes.

Stephen turned in time to see the twins pull up short behind Armand. He recognized them as Audra and Lyssa, the peasant girls he’d seen earlier.

His first thought was to shield them against their lord’s anger at being interrupted. The smile on William’s face belied all trace of ire.

To Stephen’s amazement, William beckoned the girls forward. “Back so soon?”

Lyssa nodded. “Cook plopped the eggs into the soup kettle to boil.”

Stunned that the girls had been allowed to interrupt, Stephen glanced down at the basket Audra held. Six hard-cooked eggs lay nestled within.

William looked up behind the girls. “Where is your mother?”

“Wrapping the altar cloth.” Audra held up the basket. “Can we eat these while they are yet warm?”

William patted the bed, an invitation the girls readily accepted. Before Lyssa hopped up on the bed, she flashed Stephen a sunny smile.

“Would you care to share our eggs, Lord Stephen?”

Stephen doubted William would appreciate it, and decided
to take his leave while the old lord was in a good mood. He chucked Lyssa under the chin, grateful that at least one female at Branwick considered him worthy of her regard.

“My thanks, little one, but I would not think to deprive you of your treat. We shall continue our talk later, William.”

Stephen left the bedside, Armand at his heels. He headed for the door, hoping a brisk walk might help clear up some of his confusion.

Apparently William de Grasse had gleaned information, and little of it good, on Stephen of Wilmont from someone. Carolyn? Possibly. Marian? Hellfire, had she carried her irritation with him too far, belittled him to her uncle? Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to see Marian as vindictive.