Knave of Hearts (15 page)

Marian would expect a marriage akin to what his brothers shared with their wives, and Stephen just didn’t have it in him to fulfill those expectations. At some point he would fail Marian, prove himself unworthy of her.

Useless to pursue this line of thought. Marian wouldn’t have him anyway, had told him last eve to look for offers elsewhere. Except he didn’t want another woman’s offer. He wished he could go back to the river and claim Marian’s offer, which he’d “nobly” turned aside.

“Stephen?”

He looked up at Gerard. “Hmm?”

“Robert and Geoffrey. Should I make their interest in Marian known to Hugo de Lacy?”

“Why?”

“’Tis how marriages are generally arranged, through the woman’s father.”

Typical Gerard. See a problem—solve it. Except Gerard didn’t see the true problem. Nor could Stephen tell him why, merely discourage him, for now.

“Since when have you taken an interest in arranging marriages?”

Gerard tilted his head. “Why not? Is there some reason why Robert or Geoffrey should not approach Hugo?”

Several reasons, both his own and Marian’s. “I fear Marian and her father had a falling out of some sort, so he may not have her best interests at heart.”

“Any notion of what they argue over?”

He had his suspicions, but repeatedly respected Marian’s wishes not to discuss it. “Nay, only that the bad feelings are years old.”

“Then perhaps ’twould be best if I speak with Marian, after the christening ceremony perhaps.”

His chest tightened. “Marian does not intend to come, I am told.”

“Why ever not?” Gerard asked.

“Not sure.” And he wasn’t. The more he thought about the excuses Carolyn gave him, the more he thought them inadequate. “I intend to talk with Marian about it, convince her to come.”

Gerard softened his voice. “If all else fails, ask her to come as a favor to me, actually to Ardith. She likes Marian, enjoys the girls. She would be hurt if Marian stayed away.”

Stephen’s gaze slid toward the arrow slit and the tents beyond, trying to remember that Gerard strove to aid Marian. If he wasn’t in love with the woman, he’d applaud Gerard’s efforts.

Except he was in love with Marian, and no matter how many times she negated his concern, he knew their affair was at the root of her rift with her father.

Mayhap ’twas time he stopped being respectful, so damn noble.

“I will tell Marian. In fact, if you have no further need of me, I will go now.” Stephen headed for the door, then stopped. “I nearly forgot. Would either of you mind if I borrowed Daymon and Philip for a time? I promised Audra and Lyssa a frog hunt, and thought the boys might like to go, too.”

Gerard looked to Richard. “Any objection?”

“Nay, none, so long as they are back before evening meal.”

Stephen nodded and closed the door behind him.

Gerard held out his hand to Richard, palm up. “Give over.”

Richard dug a coin from his leather pouch and slapped it into Gerard’s hand. “Very well, so Stephen is in love with Marian, I will give you that. But the other? ’Tis beyond belief.”

“Think you? Wait until you see Stephen coddle those two little girls and then tell me I am wrong.”

“H
ail in the tent! Anyone there!”

Marian started at the small voice from outside.

“Mama, that sounds like Daymon,” Lyssa said, and ran to open the tent flap.

Without stood two boys, one of them Daymon. Stephen stood behind the boys, a large sack dangling from his hand. He looked troubled, unusual for Stephen.

“Might we come in?” he asked.

She’d rather he didn’t, but the three had obviously come for some purpose.

Marian stepped back. The boys scooted inside without a problem. Stephen needed to duck.

Daymon addressed the girls, waving a hand at the black-haired boy at his side. “This is Philip. Uncle Stephen said you liked to hunt frogs and Philip and I know where to find them. Would you like to come?”

The girls, understandably, looked apprehensive about taking part in another frog hunt. The last ended badly. Still, both wanted to go, having been confined to the tent for most of the morn. ’Twas also necessary to get them into water again soon, so they’d not harbor fears too long.

Audra looked up at Stephen. “Are there snakes?”

Philip’s eyes went wide. “You like snakes?”

Audra shivered. Lyssa shot Marian a wary glance.

Stephen ruffled Philip’s hair. “Nay, Audra does not, so we hunt only frogs.” He faced the girls. “’Tis a stream we go to, not a river. The stream is shallow, barely reaches your knees with no current to speak of…and lots of frogs.”

“Are you coming, too?” Lyssa asked, though the plea and hope reflected in both girls’ eyes.

As they had last night, the twins looked to Stephen as protector, someone to rely upon if something went awry. Marian stifled unwarranted resentment that they looked to someone other than their mother to fulfill their needs. ’Twas natural, she supposed, they would look to a big, strong male who’d already proven himself capable, for protection.

“I would not think of allowing you to go frog hunting without me,” he stated, then smiled. “We will even take your mother along, if she is brave enough to consent.”

She needed no courage to go near the water. Spending time with Stephen, however, ’twould wear on her spirit. Only for the girls’ sake would she flirt with temptation once again.

“I say lead on.”

Stephen shooed the children out of the tent, then handed her the sack. “I paid Christina for these, so they are now yours. We will wait for you.”

He ducked out of the tent before she could open the sack—and object. Within lay two gowns—the blue she’d worn last night and one of amber—and a pair of boots.

Stephen shouldn’t have purchased them. ’Twas thoughtful of him, but…maybe she would keep the boots.

Marian slipped off Carolyn’s felt slippers and put on the boots. No sense being impractical. Having no use for the gowns, she’d give them back to Stephen after the frog hunt.

Daymon and Philip led the way across the clearing, Audra and Lyssa keeping up with their quick strides. Marian noted several more tents had been set up since yesterday. The bright rounds of brilliant color were scattered haphazardly in the grassy field, a field now chopped up by the numerous wagons and horses parked near their owners’ tents.

Marian bit her bottom lip when the children disappeared into the woods. “The boys know where they are going?”

“Daymon knows the land surrounding Wilmont as well as I do. Philip is learning.”

“I gather the two boys are friends.”

“Philip is Richard’s ward. They arrived this morning.”

So now the whole family was gathered in the keep. The three brothers and those they cared for. Tomorrow they would christen the newest of them, baby Matthew. But not all was well. Stephen was upset about something.

She wouldn’t ask. ’Twas none of her affair.

She liked Stephen’s family. Ardith certainly ranked among the nicest of women, and while Stephen’s mother might be a bit stiff and curt, she possessed a lovely smile and helpful manner. Even the baron, for his formal ways, seemed an amiable and fair man. All of the boys were certainly cute with sunny faces, even this newest lad, Philip. She suspected Richard and his wife would prove affable, too.

No matter. They were Stephen’s family, which Carolyn might one day be a part of, not she.

The path through the woods wound about to a rock-bottomed, gurgling stream. The children were already barefooted and splashing along the edge. Stephen waved her over to a large boulder to sit upon. He stood next to her, arms crossed and feet spread, watching the children.

“Carolyn told me you remained in the tent this morn because you feared the twins’ presence in the hall might pose a problem. Not so, Marian. No one would dare make a heedless remark on their being twins. Gerard would take it as a slight against Ardith and show the miscreant the gate.”

Marian’s guard rose. ’Twas the baron’s scrutiny and possible remarks she wished to avoid.

“Your family has been kind to us even though we intruded. ’Tis best I not court trouble.”

“You did not intrude. I invited you, which makes you a guest, and due the respect and courtesy given all guests at Wilmont. Gerard and Ardith expect you to attend the christening ceremony on the morrow, and there is truly no reason why you should not. Not because of the twins nor from lack of proper garments. Even now Ardith’s maids stitch gowns for the girls.”

Have all attending see her daughters draped in costly silk, their raven tresses tied in ribbons? Let someone note the affection between Stephen and the two little girls with hair the hue of his? ’Twas far too great a risk.

“Besides,” he continued, his voice gruff, “’twould be a good chance for you to meet your…suitors. Both Robert of Portieres and Geoffrey d’Montgomery made inquiries of you last eve. Gerard asked me if he should send word of their interest to your father.”

Marian leapt up from the boulder, shock and fear roiling her stomach. “What did you tell him?”

His eyes narrowed. “I told him you and your family are not on good terms, that your father may not have your best interests at heart. But I could not tell him why because you continually refuse to confide in me! Time to give over, Marian, or the next ceremony you attend may be your wedding to a man not of your choosing.”

Any man not Stephen wouldn’t be of her choosing. Except Stephen chose Carolyn.

“You must tell your brother to desist. ’Tis none of his affair.”

His ire lessened, his expression softened. “Nay, it is not Gerard’s affair, but mine. I realize your separation from your family a result of our liaison, yet you continually tell me ’tis none of my concern. It is now, very much so. What happened between you and your father?”

Marian closed her eyes, bracing against new tears over an old wound. She’d cried her eyes out nearly the whole way from Murwaithe to Branwick, Carolyn’s assurances of little comfort. And again when the girls were born, so scared and wanting her mother desperately, still wanting Stephen to somehow
know
and come for her. Useless tears, all.

“’Tis my own doing. I defied him, wounded him deeply. He will never forgive me for it.”

Stephen put his hands on her shoulders, inviting closeness, confidences. “Look at your daughters. Is there anything they could possibly do to make you stop loving them?”

Audra and Lyssa were having a grand time. Philip had found a frog and prodded it with a stick to make it jump. The girls squealed with each leap. Raising them had been her greatest joy and heaviest burden. They could
make her laugh and toss her into the depths of despair. She’d been frustrated, angry, ready to give them away at times. But she never would. They were hers, born of her body, the lights of her life. Nothing they might do could ever make her stop loving them. Disapprove of their behavior at times, aye, but the love was always with her, always would be.

She understood the point Stephen sought to make.

“My father may yet feel some love for me. I hope so. But what I did was unforgivable.”

He squeezed her shoulders, took a deeper breath. “So I thought with my mother, but do you know, I believe she may have finally forgiven me for being born.”

She reached up and put a hand over his. “Come now, how can a mother hate a child for simply being born?”

“When she hates the father for getting her with child,” he said quietly. “She barred my father from her bed after he dared bring Richard to Wilmont and acknowledged him as his son. I understand Father allowed her to punish him for a while, then ordered the bolt removed from her door and insisted she resume her wifely duties. To my mother, I was the child who should not have been.” He laughed with no humor. “Truly, Richard is assured a place in heaven for he has already known hell. She reminded him at every turn that he was bastard born, the lowest of the low. And me, she mostly ignored me, as if I did not exist.”

Marian shook her head, unable to imagine such a harsh childhood, glad her daughters were spared such scorn. Still, she understood Urusla’s reasons for hating her husband, not that those reasons condoned her mistreatment of her younger son.

“I imagine your mother must have been horrified when your father acknowledged Richard. To have proof
of her husband’s infidelity so blatantly presented to her and always present must have been difficult for her to live with.”

“Not difficult—impossible.”

“What happened to soften her, then?”

“Several months after my father’s death, Mother decided she would rid Wilmont of all bastards, including Richard and little Daymon. Gerard would not stand for it. He packed her up and placed her in Romsey Abbey, would not allow her to return until she understood that bastards were not to blame for their circumstance of birth, the fathers were.”

And the mothers
. Marian pursed her lips from uttering it aloud. She was as much to blame for the girls’ conception as Stephen. Sweet Mother, she’d been utterly shameless in the hayloft, hot for the coupling, too wrapped up in her love and desire for Stephen to consider the consequences. She’d been so young, so foolish.

“Ursula no longer berates Richard?”

“Nay. Gerard demands she mind her tongue, more now for Daymon’s sake than Richard’s.”

She squeezed his hand. “And you?”

“Well, with me things took a while longer, but we can now speak without fighting. I doubt we will ever be fond of each other, but we have reached a sort of peace. Is there no way you can find peace with your father?”

Only one way, by naming the sire of her girls. She’d debated the wisdom of that so many times, sometimes knowing it the right thing to do, at others assured the words must never pass her lips. For the girls’ sake, for her own, which was best? She wished she knew.

“Father wants a confession of me, one I am unable to give him. Until then, he will not forgive me. There can be no peace between us.”

“Confess what?”

Her heart skipped a beat then thudded against her ribs. She shook her head.

“Marian—”

“Look, the children are too far downstream. We should go after them.”

She tried move. He held her in place and gave out a long, sharp whistle. Both boys stopped where they were and turned around.

Stephen shouted, “Daymon, come back this way.”

“But the frogs—”

“Daymon!”

With no further argument the boys obeyed and the girls followed.

“Let me go, Stephen.”

His sigh was long and heavy; his thumbs massaged her collarbone. “Not this time. I will not fail you again, Marian, I swear.”

“There is nothing—” her voice cracked, the tears too hot and close to withhold “—nothing…”

Stephen’s arms came around her, enveloped her in his warmth and strength. She leaned into him, her knees threatening to buckle. She grabbed fistfuls of his tunic to keep upright, clenched her teeth to stifle sobs.

Gads, but she was tired. Tired of fighting her inner battles, weary of standing firm in her beliefs of how to best protect the girls, herself. Tired of being alone.

“There is always something to be done, some way to right a wrong, or at least to try. Tell me, Marian. Let me help.”

If only he’d loved her all those years ago, parted from her with sweet words. If only he’d sent some message to let her know he considered her special. If only he’d been interested enough then to want to right a wrong—
a wrong he didn’t know about. Because she’d been too young and proud.

So where was her pride now? She stood within the circle of Stephen’s arms and didn’t want to leave. Dare she tell him, let him share some of the burden? Stephen might not love her, but he cared for the girls. He’d do nothing to hurt them.

His hands cradled her head, tilted her face upward.

“Tell me,” he whispered, the command in his voice and the sorrow in his eyes her undoing.

How did one tell a man he was a father? With a bit of preparation or straight out? What would he think, say, do?

“Several months after you left…when I could no longer hide…” She closed her eyes, groping for words.

He kissed her forehead gently, firmly. “Go on.”

“I refused…refused to name the man who had8…gotten me with…child.”

Stephen’s brow furrowed. “Your husband—”

“I never married.”

“But then…”

She felt him stiffen, watched his face go blank. He looked up toward Audra and Lyssa. Marian clutched his tunic and prayed, as she had never prayed before, that she’d not made yet one more mistake.

“They are mine,” he whispered. “The girls are mine.”

Marian swallowed hard, her heart caught in her throat. She could only nod.

He looked back at her then. “The girls are mine,” he repeated, his voice stronger.

“They are.”

Rocked to his core, Stephen didn’t know whether to shout for joy or scream in horror.

Marian hadn’t married, he’d been lied to.

They are mine
.

Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t she sent for him?

Audra and Lyssa are mine
.

He’d left Marian without a word of farewell, not his fault. He’d returned to Wilmont and worried somewhat over whether or not…but her father hadn’t come demanding a marriage, so he considered himself safe. All the while Marian had been carrying, and suffering and—all his fault.