Taming The Wolf. Deborah Simmons

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СКАЧАТЬ and common sense.

      “Will none of you have her?” Campion asked. He could not keep the disappointment from his voice, for he had come to care for the girl. He had hoped that this hastily formed plan would keep her with them, but no one said a word. “Are all my sons unnatural that they will not marry and give Campion heirs?”

      Eyes downcast, they all refused to answer, except Simon, who flashed his silver-gray ones like steel. “Why is it that she is not already wed? She looks of an age.”

      “‘Tis not difficult to imagine that her uncle covets her lands for himself. If so, he will never willingly let her marry. The messenger hinted as much. ‘Tis more than likely that our Marion was little more than a prisoner in her own castle,” Campion said, hoping that guilt might move his sons when duty and affection had failed to do so.

      “He treated her badly,” Nicholas said, his head hanging, his misery impossible to disguise.

      “Why do you say that?” Simon asked sharply.

      Nicholas shrugged. “Just things that she has said about how wonderful it is here and how she always feels safe and part of a family. She gives me that great smile of hers and says how lucky she is that we took her in.”

      Ashamed, furtive glances were exchanged, but still no one volunteered to wed Marion. It was his own fault, Campion decided. He should have remarried long ago, so that the boys would know the company of women. But after his second wife had died birthing Nicholas, a grief-stricken Campion had been loath to give his heart again.

      Unfortunately, the result was that his sons had grown to manhood without the tender touch of female hands. Now he was cursed with a grown group of bachelors who thought nothing of easing themselves on a bit of bought flesh, but who would never give him grandchildren.

      Could they not see the change in Campion and in themselves, wrought by Marion’s presence? In a few short months, she had made herself indispensable to the household, improving the hall and the rooms and the meals. Campion thought of the girl’s smile, so rich and full of warmth, and he felt a pang of loss.

      He ought to marry her himself, Campion thought suddenly, and then sighed at his own foolishness. Although past the age when most girls were wed, Marion was far too young for him, and he was too old to begin a new family. The winter had not been kind to him, and his joints were bothersome. He did not let on to his sons, of course, but he was finding it harder to wield a sword with his previous skill. Fond as he was of Marion, that fondness made him want her to have a robust husband to give her many sons.

      And he was looking at seven healthy candidates who refused to take her. Campion let them see his displeasure. “Very well, then. If none of you will have her to wife, she must go home. Who will take her back to Baddersly?”

      Again, dead silence met his words. The toes of his boots still interested Robin, Nicholas still fiddled with his knife, and Stephen concentrated on the bottom of his cup. Reynold rubbed his bad leg, as he often did when he was disturbed, and Simon scowled out the window, as if an answer would strike him from the heavens.

      “Well?” This time, Campion’s tone left no doubt that he was angry.

      Reynold glanced up. “Geoffrey is her favorite,” he pointed out.

      Geoffrey looked startled—and appalled. “Nay! I cannot. Make Simon go.”

      “Aye. He is best equipped to guard her,” Stephen said, his lips curling into a smirk.

      “Enough,” Campion said, calling a halt to the bickering. Yet they muttered on, sending black looks at one another, none of them willing to do the deed. Campion felt his pride in them melt away. By the rood, he faced a room full of cowards! He was about to chastise them as such, when suddenly the voices trailed off. They all looked at one another, brows lifted in surprise. Then, six heads swiveled toward the wall behind him, as they spoke as one.

      “Send Dunstan!” all of them cried at the same time.

      “Aye! Dunstan is better equipped than I!” Simon said. His words made Campion pause, for normally Simon would rather have died than admit such a thing.

      “Aye. He knows her not and would as likely feel nothing even if he did,” Stephen added with a contemptuous sneer.

      Campion glanced at Dunstan, who was watching the furor with a detached frown, and he wondered what the boy was thinking. When had his eldest son grown so distant? With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “Dunstan is a good man on a journey,” he noted.

      “Aye! He knows his way throughout the whole country!” Nicholas said.

      Campion ignored the youngest de Burgh’s enthusiasm for his eldest brother and considered the idea further. Perhaps Dunstan would be the best man for the job. He was a fine knight and could easily handle any trouble that Peasely might serve him. He was also a baron in his own right, possessing some of the diplomacy that Simon so sorely lacked. And he was not involved with the girl’s affections; it would cause him no suffering to give Marion over to her uncle.

      Laying his palms upon the table, Campion made his decision. “If Dunstan is willing, then so be it.”

      “Aye, father.” They answered as one, and Campion realized that for once his sons were in agreement, all relieved to escape the task that they had dreaded. Campion sighed, his disappointment heavy as they rose to their feet, eager to be gone, only to halt at the sound of Dunstan’s low voice.

      “Stay,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Although the boys rarely listened to one another, they were indebted to their sibling this day, so they deferred to him and remained where they were.

      “Fetch the girl, and say your farewells, for we leave within the hour,” Dunstan said.

      Campion glanced at him in surprise. “But you just arrived. Surely, you will want to rest before beginning another journey.” Campion felt a sting in his chest at the thought of Dunstan’s swift departure. It had been a year since his firstborn had been home. Why would he go so quickly?

      “If you wish me to take on this errand, I would hurry, for I am needed back in Wessex,” Dunstan said tersely. He appeared none too happy to be saddled with the task, and yet he had accepted it readily enough. Campion eyed him closely, trying to see inside the man his boy had become, but Dunstan’s dark eyes glinted dispassionately, revealing nothing. Campion felt another prick of sadness at the knowledge that Dunstan preferred his own castle, his own home now....

      Campion turned back to his younger sons. “Have Wilda bring Marion to us,” he said. Then he looked around the room. If the de Burghs had appeared uncomfortable before, they were practically squirming now. Not one of them wanted to face Marion—the cowards. Campion’s shame for them was tempered with a bit of sympathy, for even he knew some trepidation at the coming confrontation. After all, he, too, had come to care for the lady he had taken in.

      Now how, by the rood, was he going to tell her she had to leave?

      * * *

      Campion’s summons stunned Marion. Panic such as she had not known since waking up bewildered in the roadway seized her, and for a long moment she could not even move. Slowly, firmly, she told herself that the earl only wanted to order a special feast in honor of Dunstan’s visit or to introduce his eldest son to her, but her memory loss had forced Marion to rely on her senses. And they told her that something was amiss.

      Marion СКАЧАТЬ