Knave Of Hearts

His marriage to Carolyn might not be based on love, but each knew what to expect. There would be no misunderstandings, and therefore no disappointments. He’d give Carolyn the security of a marriage, sire her children, then make himself scarce, just as she wanted.

Best that way, at least for him. It simply wasn’t within him to do as his brothers did—spend the bulk of his time in one place with one woman, doing the same things day after day, season after season.

The bedchamber suddenly seemed smaller, containing less air.

Stephen put the ornate chest on top of the trunk. “Let us go down and see if William has awakened, shall we?”

With her girls at her side and the altar cloth over her arm, Marian entered Branwick Keep. During a quick perusal of the great hall she determined Stephen was elsewhere. Relieved, she hoped if she hurried her chore she might escape the keep without seeing him.

Marian approached Branwick’s steward. “Good day, Ivo. Is his lordship awake?”

“Aye, my lady, he is, and your visit is well-timed. He is in want of cheering.”

The consternation on Ivo’s face said William’s mood needed lifting beyond the normal frustrations of his illness.

“What troubles him?”

“Carolyn behaved in less than gracious manner earlier. His lordship is not pleased she went riding with Edwin instead of showing proper deference to our guest.”

The guest must be Stephen. Marian bit back questions over what had transpired upon his arrival. ’Twasn’t her place to question Carolyn’s actions. Nor did she wish to become involved, in any manner, in Carolyn and Stephen’s situation. Though the thought occurred to Marian that Carolyn’s inattention didn’t bode well for Stephen’s suit. Not a displeasing thought.

“And the guest?”

“Stephen of Wilmont.” Ivo glanced at the stairs. “He wishes an audience with his lordship. When your visit is done, I will fetch him.”

Grateful for the inadvertent information and reprieve, Marian hurried toward the bed where her uncle spent the bulk of his days, garbed only in white linen shertes, propped up by bolsters. She paused at the foot of the bed.

“Uncle William?”

“Ah, Marian. Come.”

She pushed aside the curtain at William’s right side, the side less affected by his apoplexy. His blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity beneath eyebrows as bushy white as his hair.

“What brings you?” he asked, as was his habit, making Marian feel a bit guilty for not visiting more often. He knew her reasons and accepted them.

“The altar cloth, of course. Did you not wish to have it in your possession today?”

Marian didn’t wait for an answer, just snapped the cloth open and let it drift down over the woolen blanket that covered his legs. He ran the fragile fingers of his good hand over the cloth.

“’Twill do,” he said.

“’Twill do?” Marian rejoined. “Uncle, if you hope to bribe your way into heaven, your gifts to the archbishop had best be of better quality than a mere ’twill do.”

“’Tis beautiful, Mama,” Audra proclaimed.

Lyssa elbowed her sister hard enough to jostle the eggs in the basket Audra held. “Tsk. Uncle knows that, Audra. He jests with Mama.”

William raised a bushy eyebrow at Lyssa. “Do I now?” he asked gruffly, to which Lyssa answered a confident, “Aye.”

He leaned over slightly and whispered none too softly, “Mayhap you are right, child, but do not tell your mother. If I praise her work too highly, she may become lax in her efforts on my behalf and I shall never get into heaven.” Lyssa giggled. He waved Audra closer. “What have you in the basket?”

Audra set the basket on the bed. “Eggs, six of them,” she said proudly.

William leaned back, his expression aghast. “Six! Whoever shall help me eat so many?”

Audra’s smile was sly as she glanced at her twin. “If the cook boils them hard, we can help you eat them, my lord.”

“Ha! Off to the kitchen with you then. Be sure to tell the cook we want them well boiled.”

Marian gave credit where credit was due. William treated her daughters as well as he knew how. Even now, as the girls celebrated their fifth summer, he didn’t often use their names for fear of getting them wrong. He accepted the twins where others didn’t. The girls had been born in Branwick Keep, and everyone should be used to them by now. Yet, many kept their distance, fearful of getting too close to two such identical little beings.

’Twas hard to fight superstition, so mostly she and her daughters kept to themselves and ignored those whose fear overruled their sense.

“What think you of Stephen of Wilmont, my lord?” Lyssa asked.

The tyke’s question surprised Marian as well as William.

“I do not know,” he answered. “I have not yet talked to the man. Since you asked, I gather you have formed an opinion.”

Lyssa’s head bobbed. “He stopped to greet us at our stone wall. He is ever so handsome and has a kind smile.”

“He also minds his manners,” Audra added. “He must be wealthy, too. He wears a silk tunic and his horse’s bridle is studded with silver.”

Marian pursed her lips to hold her peace. William had asked the girls to express their opinion. If she tried to shoo her daughters on their way too soon, William would wonder why. His body might be frail, but his mind was as sharp as ever.

William glanced from one girl to the other. “I see. I will take your observations into consideration. Now, see to our eggs if you please.”

The girls dipped into quick curtsies then hurried out to do William’s bidding. Marian picked up the altar cloth to fold it.

“I should be away, too. Now that you have approved of the cloth, I will have it wrapped for transport.”

“You know of the family of Wilmont?”

Marian saw no sense in denying it. She could too easily be found out a liar.

“My father once purchased horses from Wilmont’s stock.”

“Fine stock.”

“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 Stephen’s way before she admitted, “We have.”

Most assuredly they had. So many years ago and so well met. For two days they’d taken every chance to place eager hands and warm mouths on each other’s bodies. Well met, indeed.

Stephen bowed in her direction. “Lady Marian and I have known each other for several years. Mayhap she and I can renew our acquaintance while I await his lordship’s convenience.”

Ivo’s eyebrow arched. “Only a moment ago you were ready to tear down the draperies from around his lordship’s bed.”

Stephen shrugged off his former impatience. True, he needed to talk to William, but the mystery of Marian’s presence proved too enticing to resist further examination. Obviously she was visiting Branwick, but why and for how long? With or without her child and husband?

Had she ever tumbled in the hay with her husband? How odd he should wonder. Even odder he should realize he’d never tumbled in the hay with any other woman.

“’Twould hardly further my cause if I disturbed his lordship at an untimely moment,” he explained to Ivo. “I shall wait until he is fully prepared for my visit.”

Ivo took his leave.

Stephen took a longer than normal breath, remembering the unease of his last conversation with Marian. Part of that unease, certes, had been their state of undress and seclusion in a bedchamber. Yet, even though they stood in Branwick’s hall, with servants scurrying about to prepare for evening meal, with Armand hovering nearby, Stephen’s body and mind were firmly engaged by the woman standing before him.

“I do not see you for many years, then you appear in the most unexpected places,” he said, then could have bitten his tongue for evoking the faint blush that bloomed on her cheeks.

He’d seen her turn vivid scarlet once before, her face and chest fully involved. She’d been astride him at the time. He hadn’t known those many years ago what that meant, but he did now—a female reaching her full pleasure. Try as he might, he couldn’t tamp down the pride of realizing he’d brought Marian to her peak without knowing what he was doing. He truly hadn’t—which meant Marian must be one of those women who reached bliss with little effort on her bed mate’s part.

So much for pride.

Marian’s husband must be delighted with so easily pleased a lover for a wife, if he cared at all. Many men didn’t, which made no sense. Pleasured bed mates made for eager bed mates.

“I hear Carolyn did not receive you well.”

The edge in Marian’s voice both rebuked him for reminding her of their meeting in a bedchamber, and turned the conversation back to Carolyn—whose rebuff had been witnessed by enough people that the tale would have spread swiftly to all in Branwick.

Stephen hadn’t a doubt he would be back in Carolyn’s good graces by the end of evening meal. He must be, despite the distraction of Marian, whose good graces wouldn’t be so easily obtained.

Knowing full well it wasn’t true, but not willing to admit to anyone but himself that his intended bride had purposely deserted him, Stephen prevaricated. “Apparently I intruded on Carolyn’s previously made plans for an afternoon ride.”

“Mayhap your visit with William will go better. He cannot get up and walk out on you.”

Marian turned as if to leave.

“How fares William?” he asked, partly because he wanted prior knowledge of the man’s current mood. Partly because Carolyn had already turned her back on him and he hated the thought of Marian repeating the insult.

“His mood or his health?” she asked.

“Both.”

“His mood is decent and his health is improved.”

Not much to go on.

“I gather his illness does not keep him abed permanently.”

She hesitated a moment before answering. “The apoplexy drained his strength and restricts his movements. He remains abed, for the most part, because he does not like having servants carry him about. My uncle’s body may be sorely afflicted, and one must listen carefully when he speaks, but have a care not to mistake his slur for lack of intelligence.”

“My thanks for your help.”

“I do not tell you this to help you, but for William’s sake. I would not have him upset because you treated him in thoughtless fashion.”

Marian’s admonishment stung. Surely, she knew him better. True, he possessed the devil’s own temper when crossed unfairly, and a nobleman’s natural expectation of deference. He wasn’t so high flown with himself, however, that he’d treat William as a lesser man because of his affliction.

On the edge of his vision, Stephen saw two young men slip behind the draperies, one carrying a pitcher and washbasin, the other bearing what must be garments. They would soon have William suitably robed.

“Your caution is unnecessary,” he told her.

“Is it? I do not remember you as the most considerate of lads.”

It irked him that Marian hadn’t forgiven him for a lapse of manners nearly six years ago, a lapse not his fault. Nor had she seen fit to accept his tardy but sincere apology, having told him it came too late. ’Twas as if she thought him both brainless and unfeeling.

Damned if he’d apologize again. If the woman chose to hold a youthful mishap against him, so be it. He didn’t need her good opinion. ’Twas Carolyn he must win over, not Marian.

“I intend to treat William de Grasse with no less than his rank and intelligence deserves. ’Twould not further my interests to do otherwise.”

She blinked, then said softly, “Nay, you would not treat a man of rank with disregard. I should have known better than to think you would.”

He didn’t know how to answer, and indeed Marian didn’t give him the chance. She spun around and walked toward the door.

“You do have a way with the ladies today,” Armand commented.

Stephen winced, having forgotten Armand stood so close as to overhear. Thank the Lord the young man could be trusted not to reveal this latest debacle.

Women. He thought he understood them, how their minds worked. Indeed, not until today had he questioned his ability to talk to a female in perfectly reasonable fashion. How had he managed to fail so completely with two women on one day?

Ivo came toward him. “His lordship awaits you.”

Grateful for what he hoped would be sensible meeting of minds, Stephen followed the steward to the right side of the bed.

Carolyn’s father appeared much as Stephen expected: aged, white-haired and withered. But, possibly due to Marian’s cautions, Stephen noted the sharp clarity and unmistakable self-assurance within the man’s deep-set brown eyes. Carolyn had inherited her father’s eyes, his intelligence, and most probably his stubborn nature.

Stephen nodded to William de Grasse, who occupied a bed with the dignity befitting a king upon his throne. “Good tidings, William. ’Tis good we finally meet.”

“You find your bedchamber to your liking, your lordship?” he asked, the words slightly ill formed.

“I have traveled widely, both in England and without. I find no lack in Branwick’s hospitality.”

William’s head bobbed slightly at the compliment. He folded his right arm over the unmoving left. “Your travels kept you away overlong, Stephen of Wilmont. So much so that my daughter cast aside her good manners and left the hall in a snit. I will, certes, speak to her about her rudeness, though you did sorely test her temper.”

Stephen withheld a request to ignore Carolyn’s behavior. ’Twas a father’s right to reprimand his children, no matter their sex or age. Stephen could only hope for light discipline so Carolyn wouldn’t be more upset with him than she was already.

However, he wasn’t about to apologize to either father or daughter for helping his brother.

“Carolyn’s expectations aside, I took charge of a task for my brother, Richard. The duty took me longer than anticipated.”

William said nothing, only looked at him expectantly. Stephen allowed that a fuller explanation might be in order. A man might understand what a woman might not and, given Carolyn’s hard feelings, he needed William’s good opinion.

“King Henry settled the guardianship of an orphaned boy on Richard. I offered to inspect the boy’s lands in Normandy and assess any threat of interference from his paternal relatives. There was resistance, not over the boy, but over control of the fees and rents from the boy’s inheritance.”

“You arranged a bargain?”

He had, except Richard hadn’t liked the bargain. In the time it had taken Stephen to bring the boy’s uncle to England to exchange Philip for more coin and goods than Richard could ever hope to gain in one fell swoop, his brother had grown fond of his ward and wouldn’t give over.

“Nay, only brought the two parties together so a bargain could be reached.”

“Then your brother’s problem is resolved.”

“So I believe.”

William frowned. “You do not know?”

The accusatory tone didn’t sit well.

“The last I saw of the boy’s uncle, he was returning to Normandy without taking his nephew. Richard considered the matter done, so I left Richard’s holding for Wilmont, to report on the situation to our brother, Gerard.”

“I see.”

Stephen heard disapproval. That William thought Stephen left his brother without hope of further aid wasn’t to be borne, no matter how much he wanted William’s goodwill. He did, however, try to keep his anger under control. ’Twas his loss of temper that had gotten Richard into trouble, and Stephen sensed he was in quite enough trouble now without inviting more.

“Should Richard need further help he need only send to Gerard, who will bring every resource of the barony of Wilmont to play, if warranted. Gerard also knows where to send for me if I am needed. Though I thank you for your concern over my brother’s welfare, I assure you ’tis not necessary.”

William waved a dismissing hand in the air. “I have no doubt Gerard of Wilmont can take care of any problem that may come his way. ’Tis you I have my doubts about, Stephen.”

Very aware of his less than steady reputation, and knowing it was one of the reasons Carolyn considered his suit, Stephen asked warily, “How so?”

“Let me say that I do not consider you a suitable mate for my daughter.”

Not suitable? He was a knight of Wilmont, a member of one of the most powerful families in the kingdom. His wealth far surpassed that of William de Grasse. If he had a mind to, he could gather more men-at-arms than necessary to lay siege to Branwick and take it by force. Surely the man knew Stephen of Wilmont to be a better match for his daughter than lowly Edwin of Tinfield.

Had the apoplexy somehow affected William’s mind more than anyone at Branwick, including Marian, wanted to admit?

“Your daughter considers me suitable.”

“My daughter also believes herself capable of overseeing Branwick and her dower lands without assistance.” William tilted his head. “If Carolyn considers you more suitable than Edwin, then why is she out riding with him instead of attending you?”

Stephen couldn’t comment on Carolyn’s ability to manage her and her father’s lands, but he was fairly sure of why Carolyn had dragged Edwin out of the keep.

“To test my resolve. Carolyn wants to know if I insult easily, and if I can give back as good as she gives. I suspect her elderly husbands could not.”

The corner of William’s mouth twitched. “I gather you believe you can?”