Knave Of Hearts. Shari Anton

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “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.

      Chapter Three

      What 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 СКАЧАТЬ