Falcon's Love. Denise Lynn

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СКАЧАТЬ grasped her arms, his hold tight and unyielding. “Childish folly? Were we not of an age to wed? Had we not been promised to each other since birth?”

      “Yes, but it was not what my father wanted.”

      “And you did not argue with him?”

      “Argue with my father?” She swallowed an unbidden laugh. “Be reasonable, Darius. You know it would have been easier to argue with a boulder.”

      “Did you go willingly to Thornson’s bed?”

      Marguerite paused before answering. He was not going to like this at all. “Not at first. At first I wanted only you.”

      “And then?”

      “When I knew that you and I were never going to be reunited, I had to choose what kind of life I wanted.”

      “And you chose…?”

      “Safety. Security. Warmth and love.” If he knew the whole truth, would he be angry, or would he understand? Uncertain, she could not take the risk.

      He looked at her. “You loved Thornson?”

      She nodded, then thought to turn the table by asking, “What about you? Do you not care for your wife?”

      He made a noise that sounded like something between a cough and a snort before answering. “I cared a great deal for my wife. To my misfortune, she cared not enough.”

      She was stunned to realize he talked about her. She found it hard to believe that he had never married another.

      Darius walked toward the door and ordered, “Get ready for bed. I will return anon.”

      “Return? For what?”

      He looked at her, his smile more of a smirk. “I was not jesting. I am not leaving you alone.”

       Chapter Four

      Bertha stood next to Marguerite in the garden. “How do you fare, my lady?”

      It was all Marguerite could do not to shout in frustration. But with Darius not more than ten paces away, shouting was unthinkable. She’d not give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his presence unnerved her.

      She kept her voice low and admitted to her maid, “After two days of his constant company, I am ready to run his own sword through him.” She jerked another clump of wayward grass from the herb bed and tossed it on the growing pile of weeds.

      “Is there anything I can do?”

      “Nay. Just tell me how Marcus fares.” Marguerite’s heart ached at the limitations of this forced separation. If she could not abide two days without Marcus’s sweet smile, what would she do when he was completely out of her reach?

      “He fares well, fear not on that score. He misses you, of course.”

      “And I him.”

      “But we received word that the men from King David will be here to take him north by the end of the week.”

      Marguerite nearly choked on a strangled sob. “That is only three days from now.”

      Bertha leaned down and placed a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “I know, child, I know.You have to find a way to see him before he leaves.”

      “How?” She wanted to scream. She needed desperately to cry. Faucon’s all-too-knowing stare caught her eye and she knew she could do neither.

      Intent on making her sham of weeding look earnest, she yanked more of the wild greenery from the herb bed, while she mulled over the situation. While tugging on a stray runner of yarrow from between the fragrant lemon balm, she got an idea.

      Marguerite cursed aloud. “This blasted yarrow. Bertha, would you aid me, please?” When the maid knelt next to her, Marguerite talked fast; she knew Faucon would quickly join them.

      “Are all the tunnels guarded?”

      “They seem to think so. But, my lady, the ones in the stable and the well have not been found.”

      “Good. I will use the stable exit.” It would bring her out just beneath the edge of the cliffs. The weather had been dry of late, so climbing the handholds up to solid ground would be manageable. Risky, but manageable. Right now, the level of risk was not an issue. She had to see Marcus, or die trying.

      Marguerite wiped her arm across her forehead, giving her the chance to take a peek at Faucon. He watched them closely, but had not yet moved. “I need a diversion in the bailey. But it has to be something big.”

      “Our men could attack Faucon’s. Would that be diverting enough?”

      Marguerite blinked at her maid’s unusually bloodthirsty suggestion. “No. I want a diversion, just long enough so I can make my escape. We do not need a battle ending in deaths.” She laughed, more to keep Faucon from becoming overly curious than anything else, and asked, “What about a nice little fire?”

      “The men would be willing to do that. It might serve your purpose.”

      “It has to work. And it has to be done immediately. The longer we wait, the more time Faucon will have to realize we have something planned.” Footsteps behind them alerted her to his approach. Under her breath, so only Bertha could hear, she quickly ordered, “Tell Everett to see to it now. Failure will rest on his neck.”

      Marguerite sat back on her heels and brushed her hands together, dislodging as much dirt as possible before lifting one hand in the air toward Darius. “What excellent timing, my lord. I am done here.”

      He assisted her to her feet before offering the same help to the maid. Bertha thanked him, then addressed Marguerite. “By your leave, my lady?”

      Marguerite nodded. “Yes, do see to your sister. Give her my regards and best wishes.”

      Once the maid left the walled garden, Darius asked, “Is the babe come yet?”

      “Not yet.” It amazed her that he kept up with the villagers’ comings and goings almost as well as Henry Thornson had. Her father had never concerned himself with those in the village, or in the keep for that matter. She’d first thought Henry’s outward display of concern odd.

      Where Henry’s display was explainable—after all, these were his people—Darius’s concern was downright disturbing. She could not determine his motive.

      He pulled her hand through the crook of his arm and led her toward the keep. “Has the midwife been summoned?”

      “Yes, Sarah gathered her supplies yesterday and took up residence near the mother-to-be.”

      “Good.” He patted Marguerite’s hand. “Then all will be well.”

      These were the things that drove her to distraction. His touch and the way it made her flesh tingle. His concern and the way it fluttered against her heart. His nearness that she had so easily come to accept.

      Since СКАЧАТЬ