Knave Of Hearts. Shari Anton

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      Chapter Two

      Stephen slowly recovered from hearing another man competed with him for Carolyn, and a man nearing his dotage at that. Granted, Edwin of Tinfield was well preserved, but going gray nonetheless.

      Knowing Carolyn loathed the thought of marrying an older man, Stephen doubted she seriously considered Edwin’s suit. Or did she? She’d smiled at him rather prettily. Because she liked the man—or to display her annoyance with her tardy suitor?

      More importantly, did Edwin of Tinfield have William de Grasse’s favor and blessing?

      “I require an audience with his lordship,” he told Ivo.

      The steward waved a hand toward the farthest corner of the room where stood a drapery-enclosed bed. “William is resting. Mayhap you can have a word with him before evening meal. Until then, we shall settle you into a chamber. If you will permit, my lord, I shall have your possessions brought up to the keep.”

      Stephen bit back his vexation at having an order shunted aside. Though he outranked everyone at Bran-wick, including its lord, ’twould not further his cause to berate the steward. One never knew when an underling’s goodwill might be needed.

      Stephen nodded his consent for Ivo to send for the supply wagons still waiting in the outer bailey.

      Studying the bed in the corner of the hall, Stephen wondered why the man preferred to have his bed down here in the hall instead of his upstairs chamber. Apparently, William still suffered mightily from whatever illness had prevented him from accompanying his daughter to Westminster.

      The lack of parental presence there had afforded Stephen rare freedoms in pursuing Carolyn. Her only familial companion at court, and not a hindrance to his pursuit of Carolyn, had been Marian.

      Marian had revealed her relationship to Carolyn as cousins, and Stephen knew enough of the family lines of England’s nobles to conclude they must be related through their mothers. Still, William must hold Marian, or possibly her husband, in high enough regard to have allowed his daughter to travel in the couple’s care.

      After leaving Marian, Stephen didn’t have the time or the inclination to inquire after Marian’s husband. He’d barely had time to find Carolyn. She’d been so high flown on the king’s wine he hadn’t pressed his advantage, simply escorted her to her chamber, all the while explaining his need to leave for Normandy. She’d been sober enough to agree to pass along his intention to secure a betrothal bargain to her father.

      ’Struth, he’d been relieved to find Carolyn in no condition for a tryst. Memories of Marian, her sweet charms and eager body, had refused to leave his head. He might have seriously blundered if he tried to make love to one woman while thinking erotic thoughts of another.

      Here at Branwick, knowing Marian was far from sight and out of reach, safely ensconced with her child and husband in some distant manor or castle, he would have no such trouble. If Carolyn wasn’t too angry. If Edwin didn’t interfere.

      “Now what?” Armand asked.

      Very aware he hadn’t been received at Branwick in the manner he hoped to be, Stephen had half a notion to tell Armand to ready the company to leave, but dismissed the idea. True, Carolyn insulted him by going off riding with Edwin, but marriage to a woman who needed little tending suited his needs too perfectly. Besides, how could he go home and tell his brothers that Carolyn preferred the company of a man nearly double his age and of lower rank? Wouldn’t they have a good laugh?

      “We wait for William to wake up or for Carolyn to return from her ride,” he said, seeing no choice in the matter.

      “You are taking this setback rather well.”

      Stephen didn’t see much choice in that, either. He couldn’t very well go chasing after Carolyn, nor shove the bed curtains aside and shake his future father-by-marriage awake.

      “Where would be the fun in life if there were no challenges?” he chided Armand. “Keeps boredom at bay. Come, I hear wagons arriving.”

      Harlan, indeed, arrived with the baggage carts. Under Ivo’s direction, Wilmont’s soldiers and Branwick’s servants hauled Stephen’s belongings up the narrow, winding stairway to a bright, large bedchamber on the third and top floor of the keep. A slight musty odor hinted that the chamber hadn’t been occupied in some time. Considering the tapestries lining the walls, the huge brazier and ornate furnishings—with no bed in evidence—Stephen guessed this must be the lord’s bedchamber.

      His mood brightened. Only an honored guest would be granted the privilege of using William de Grasse’s chamber. Mayhap Carolyn wasn’t taking him lightly after all.

      Harlan assured Stephen that he and Wilmont’s soldiers had been assigned quarters in the armory with Branwick’s guards. The horses and oxen would be cared for in the stables. The food had already been taken to the kitchen, and the kegs of fine Burgundy wine hauled into Branwick’s cellar.

      Acting as Stephen’s squire, Armand would sleep on a pallet on the floor, a pallet easily moved out of the bedchamber if—when—Stephen required privacy.

      Soon only he and Armand and a young maid remained in the chamber. Armand squatted down and drew bed linens and fur coverlets from a trunk to hand over to the maid. Stephen peered over Armand’s shoulder into the open trunk.

      “Are the gifts packed in here?”

      Armand moved several of Stephen’s tunics aside.

      “Thinking to give them to Lady Carolyn already?”

      “Only one, and not the best, which she does not get until our betrothal is agreed to.” He pulled out a wooden chest with delicate brass hinges and clasp, its top beautifully carved with a floral design. “This chest should prick Carolyn’s curiosity about what I might have brought along to put into it.”

      “A shrewd maneuver.”

      “I hope so.”

      Armand rose and closed the trunk. The maid wandered over, finished with making up the bed.

      “Will there be aught else, my lords?” she asked.

      Stephen recognized the invitation on her face. He’d seen it countless times on the faces of women of low and high birth alike. Odd thing was, the pretty little maid looked forthrightly at Armand, whose cheeks colored slightly.

      Well, how interesting! Stephen surmised that if on some night he asked Armand to sleep elsewhere, the squire need not sleep alone.

      “Nothing now,” Stephen answered, drawing the maid’s attention. “To be sure, if your services are required, I shall send Armand to you straightaway.”

      The maid curtsied. “You need only seek me out,” she said, then sauntered saucily across the chamber to the door, СКАЧАТЬ