Authors: Shari Anton
She rolled with him, onto her side, as averse to separating their sweating bodies as he. He pulled the coverlet over them, wrapping them in a cocoon that entrapped their heat and the aroma of lovemaking.
Replete, he closed his eyes and held Marian close, content to remain right where he was until forced to get up. Like the end of the world. Or the tent falling down. Or Carolyn returning—which might be the end of the world. She’d kill him. Death wasn’t in his current plans. Worse, she might take her ire out on Marian.
He shook Marian gently, roused her enough to open her eyes and push the hair from her face. Waking every morning to those sleepy pewter eyes and her soft smile was going to be sheer joy. But first they had to marry.
She stroked his chin. “I like the man.”
He kissed her forehead. “The woman is utterly incredible. You drain me dry, Marian. I may never recover.”
“An hour at most and you will be ready again. Or has age slowed you down?”
“Not me. Not yet, anyway.”
The quip widened her smile, then she pulled him down for another kiss, soft and gentle, and incredibly stirring. Not long later, when she squirmed deliciously against him, he knew he wouldn’t need a full hour.
He’d tried to be careful of her earlier but she hadn’t let him. He ran a hand over her stomach, over those thin white lines earned while bearing his daughters.
“Do you think we might have gotten you pregnant again?”
“Would that displease you? You did try to pull away.”
“Only because I thought you might want to wait until all was settled and sure. ’Tis not displeasing to know you have the confidence in me to take the risk…yet, I do wonder how you knew what I was doing.”
“Ah, that. Well, after I gave birth, I made it my business to know exactly how things worked. An old herbs-woman told me of several ways how I might take a lover without…consequences, including the method you tried.”
He’d assumed she’d remained celibate, talked himself into believing she would only take someone she loved dearly to her bed. He knew she’d turned down offers of marriage, but the other?
“Apparently the method worked.”
“Oh, quite well.”
She jested. Maybe. He couldn’t tell. If not he didn’t want to hear about her other lovers, just as he didn’t want to tell her about the other women in his life.
Too many others. Women he’d been careful of, however, because he’d also made it his business to learn how to take a lover without consequences.
Still, he couldn’t help wondering who the hell else Marian might have instructed to pull down his breeches so she could judge the quality of his parts.
Stephen lay back on the pallet with his forearm over his eyes, and took comfort in having passed Marian’s inspection and then giving her good benefit of his parts. ’Twas enough, for now.
She ran a fingernail over his stomach, making him quiver, stirring his loins.
“What do we do about Carolyn?”
Somehow talking about Carolyn while lying naked next to Marian didn’t feel right, probably because he’d been to bed with Carolyn, once, at Westminster. Not a fact he would ever bring up. Would Carolyn? If the two women ever made comparisons…he shivered, more from where Marian’s hand had wandered down his inner thigh than anything else.
“Gerard offered to find Carolyn another husband, someone young and forbearing of her views.”
“What about Edwin?”
“Too old, too set in his ways.”
“Not too old. There is vigor in him yet.”
He moved his arm to look at her face; she was looking elsewhere, at his parts. The woman simply loved sex, pure and lusty. Had she ever asked Edwin to pull down his breeches?
“How would you know?”
“Edwin is but six and thirty. The gray in his hair speaks of experience, not feebleness.” She finally met his gaze. “When you are
so
old, must I find a new lover?” She slid her palm along the underside of his solid staff. “Will you yet be lusty, or gone feeble?”
Suddenly six and thirty didn’t sound so old. He knew of men older who’d sired children, the earl of Warwick for one. Stephen knew the man had seen his fortieth year, yet his wife had delivered their latest child, their fourth, only two years ago.
“I plan to be lusty well into my dotage.”
“Past thirty, then.” She wrapped her fingers around him, squeezed, ran her thumb over the tip to spread around the single drop of liquid.
“Well past.”
“Nice to hear. Besides, Carolyn loves Edwin. She
uses his aversion to change as an excuse to—” She pursed her lips.
Carolyn in love with Edwin? Beyond belief! Except Marian believed differently. Had she cause?
“An excuse to what?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You must swear never to say a word of what I tell you to either of them.”
His curiosity piqued, Stephen rose up on his elbows. “I so swear, my lady.”
She took a deep breath and worried her lower lip. “You know Carolyn has buried two husbands.” He nodded. “Both were quite old, near as old as William. She now fears marrying a man older than she because, well, both of her husbands died in her bed after claiming husbandly rights. She fears she will kill Edwin if she marries him.”
Stephen’s first reaction was to laugh aloud, but the expression on Marian’s face stopped him cold.
“She thinks she will kill Edwin if she makes love to him.”
Marian nodded.
“Are you saying that all Edwin has to do is take Carolyn to bed and do nothing more than not die and she might relent?”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “Well, he might want to be a bit more active. The thing is, Carolyn is not about to swive Edwin. She truly fears for him.”
Stephen laid back down, his hands beneath his head. If he could convince Edwin to tumble Carolyn, that problem might be solved. Nay, first he’d have to make sure Edwin understood how much Carolyn wanted control over her lands. Surely, due to the contest, Edwin now knew her knowledgeable.
Marian’s hand moved lower, down to under his sacs,
fondling, driving Edwin and Carolyn to the farthest reaches of his mind.
Marian sure wasn’t worried about him succumbing, not when she wanted him again so soon, and was making steady progress in ensuring her needs met. Insatiable wench.
Mercy, what the woman did with her hands could push a man right over the edge of madness. He let her play as long as he dared.
“Marian, you do intend to buff that rod sometime soon?”
She laughed. “Crudely put.”
“Aye, and I have been hoping you might see your way clear to do the buffing ever since you mentioned it the other day.”
She slid over him and took him into her. He grasped her hips and arched upward; she sat up and pushed down. She hissed at the fullness of his possession; he moaned low at the depth of his penetration.
Marian threw her head back and rose up ever so slightly before lowering down. Over and over and over. Stephen knew he wasn’t going to last long, so put his thumb to her sensitive nub. He girded his loins and made deliberate circles around the nub, pushing her toward release, heating her sheath until she melted around him.
Marian’s pleasure drew him up and in, caressed him in the most intimate way possible. He gave himself up to the pleasure and the joy, the love and the woman. He could have sworn the earth moved beneath him, that thunder rumbled across the land.
’Twasn’t until several moments later, with Marian sprawled atop him, his breathing beginning to return to normal, he realized the moving earth and thunder had
been real, in a sense. Horses, many of them, must have ridden past the tent.
He had to leave before someone discovered what he and Marian had indulged in for a good part of the afternoon. He truly hadn’t meant to linger so long.
“Marian, we must get up, get dressed.”
“Must we?” she complained.
“Greedy wench. Come, move that beautiful rump of yours.”
He caressed one lovely cheek to take any sting out of the order.
She rolled off with a moan. “You get dressed. I intend to cover my head and sleep.”
“No time.” He got up and pulled on his clothes as he came across them. “Evening meal is not far off.”
“Not hungry.”
“You need to eat to keep up your strength. I will send Christina out to help you dress and fix your hair so you had best be ready.” Fully dressed, Stephen picked up the sack and drew out the two gowns—the light-blue gown Marian wore last night, the other a lovely shade of amber. He tossed the blue on a pallet and shook out the amber. “I like this one.”
She laughed lightly. He looked over to see her lounging on her side, propped up on an elbow, all that gorgeous hair flowing down around her. She smiled indulgently. “If you say so, my lord.”
He liked the sound of it. He tossed the amber gown down atop the blue, then picked up her old peasant weave and stuffed it into the sack.
“What are you doing?”
Stephen pulled at the ties securing the tent flap. “I intend to burn this rag. See you at supper.”
He escaped as she screeched a protest.
He flung the sack over his shoulder and headed for the keep, plans forming in his head for his talk with Edwin. Once done, then all he had to do was get Edwin and Carolyn together in a place of privacy—naked. His chamber would do nicely. Or perhaps the tent.
First he’d tell Gerard to inform Robert of Portieres and Geoffrey d’Montgomery to look elsewhere for wives. Lady Marian de Lacy wasn’t available. She belonged to him now. She’d become the wife of Stephen of Wilmont as soon as he freed himself of Lady Carolyn de Grasse.
Or rather Carolyn disavowed him. How strange to realize his entire future might depend upon the swiving skills of a thirty-six-year-old man.
M
arian wore the light-blue gown to supper to let Stephen know he had no right to tell her what to wear. She might be the mother of his children and again his lover, but not his wife and subject to his orders—a longed for state of affairs but not a certainty.
Seated next to him on the bench, all she need do is lean left to whisper the admonishment to Stephen, but feared some expression or action might alert Carolyn to how Marian had spent part of the afternoon. Writhing either under or over the man Carolyn still considered hers.
Because of the grand feast planned to follow the christening on the morrow, tonight Ardith served a plain supper of venison stew in a rich brown gravy on bread trenchers. ’Twas so thick with meat and generously seasoned no one seemed to mind.
Honored on the dais were Corwin, Ardith’s brother, and his bride to be, Judith Canmore, the royal heiress whom Corwin apparently rescued from traitorous rebels. The king granted the pair permission to marry in reward for good service to the crown. A Saxon knight and a
royal heiress. An unheard-of match. Yet there the two sat, looking as happy as any couple could be.
The earl and his wife once again occupied the high seats at the highest table, followed by Richard with his wife Lucinda, then Stephen with Carolyn and—for some reason not clear to Marian—she and Edwin.
By rights, the two of them should sit far down the tables, neither of them holding high enough rank to warrant a place at the table with the family and the earl. ’Twas more than unsettling to sit at Stephen’s right, facing Edwin and Carolyn.
Marian heard the scrape of the baron’s chair as he rose. She tucked away her eating knife without guilt for leaving so much food on her trencher. The serving wenches would gather up the trenchers and take them out to the gates. Some peasant would enjoy a good meal.
Carolyn leaned forward. “Marian, before you leave to collect your girls, I wanted to tell you not to expect me back at the tent tonight. I probably will not see you again until the morrow, at the christening.”
How very odd. “Why is that?”
Carolyn’s smile could only be called smug. “Lady Ursula has invited me to remain for a private gathering of the family. ’Twould seem they intend to celebrate Corwin’s good fortune and Ursula believes ’twill be quite late before everyone seeks their pallets, so I shall remain in the keep for the night.”
Edwin went a bit pale. Marian wanted to reach out to him, tell him to ignore Carolyn’s gloat over how well she’d been received by the baron’s family, over her growing closeness with Stephen’s mother. She knew how the man felt—jealous and rejected—every time he witnessed Stephen and Carolyn being paired as a couple, every time the subject of their marriage came up.
She knew because she felt it, too, as now, wishing she were the one to accompany Stephen to the gathering as his intended bride. Impossible, of course, until Stephen was free of his obligation to Carolyn.
Stephen leaned toward her. “Actually, Marian, you and the girls are invited, too. Ardith plans to speak with you about it in a few moments.”
Marian’s heart did a joyous little flip.
Carolyn looked abashed. “Nay, I do not believe she does. I already declined the kindness on Marian’s behalf.” At Stephen’s disapproving look, Carolyn explained. “Marian has been shown many kindnesses because she is my cousin, and so might be your kin if…when my father approves our marriage. I assured your mother that further deference was unnecessary, and your mother agreed to pass my wishes along to Ardith. Besides, Marian must collect her daughters soon.”
Stephen tilted his head, studying Carolyn. “You have become very accustomed to making decisions for Marian. One would think you felt you had the right.”
Carolyn looked crushed. “I was merely thinking of Audra and Lyssa. The twins are used to an early bedtime. If they do not get proper rest, they will be unfit to attend the christening tomorrow.”
The point was well taken. Marian knew that without proper rest her little angels could turn she-devils. Still, the decision had been hers to make, not Carolyn’s.
With a start, Marian realized fully what Stephen had hinted at earlier. Had she truly become so weak-willed she’d let Carolyn rule over her completely?
Maybe so. Ever since Carolyn offered succor and shelter at Branwick—which Stephen suggested was interference, not an act of kindness—Marian had allowed Carolyn her way in most everything. The tale of her
widowhood to begin with. Even in small things, like Carolyn’s reproach over the girls’ manners, Marian usually bowed to her cousin’s wishes.
Marian winced inwardly. ’Twas not all Carolyn’s fault she seemed so high-handed. Marian had accepted direction without question, unwilling to argue overmuch with the cousin on whom she depended for the very meals on her table.
“Marian, what say you?” Stephen asked. “You
are
invited and welcome to join us if you wish. The twins, also.”
Stephen’s defense of her, the hope on his face that she would join his family’s gathering, made it easier to refuse. His family now knew the girls were his daughters, and would see them in a new light at the ceremony. Marian wanted Audra and Lyssa rested and well-behaved, little angels in the darling gowns Christina had delivered to the tent.
“My thanks, Stephen, but I did promise the girls I would collect them after evening meal. They will be weary from a long day at play, so I had best get them to their pallets early.”
“You are sure?”
Marian wished she could hug him openly for his care. All she could offer him was a smile and reassurance.
“Quite sure. You have seen Audra at her very worst. We do not wish to court such surliness again, do we?”
“Heaven forbid, nay,” he agreed with a light laugh, then addressed Edwin. “I hoped to have a word with you this noon, but Corwin’s arrival distracted me. Might you have a few moments now?”
Marian did her best not to blush over what had claimed Stephen’s time before Corwin’s arrival. She’d been riding atop Stephen, in the throes of ecstasy, when
the large company that turned out to be Corwin, Judith and their escort thundered past the tent.
“If you wish,” Edwin said softly.
Stephen rose off the bench. “If you will excuse us, then, ladies?”
Edwin followed Stephen’s lead, getting up off the bench as if the weight of the world bore down on his shoulders. She wished she had words of comfort for him, but there were none.
Carolyn scooted down a space to the seat Edwin vacated. “I am glad to hear you have the good sense to agree with me. I cannot imagine what havoc the twins might wreak if both were surly.”
In good conscience, Marian couldn’t refute Carolyn. “You did take liberties in refusing the invitation for us, however.”
“I was merely trying to be helpful,” she said, and Marian thought her cousin truly believed it.
She thought to press the point, but the earl and his wife were getting up, readying to return to their tent. Best she go with them, fetch the girls and get them bedded down.
“Shall I send your pallet up to the keep?”
Carolyn shook her head. “’Tis not necessary.” An odd smile touched her mouth. “Stephen has offered me the use of his chamber for the night. ’Twill be pleasant to sleep in that large bed. I rather believe he means to share it with me.”
Marian wanted to scream a denial, but the words hit her gut so hard she couldn’t breathe.
Stephen wouldn’t. He
couldn’t
. Not after making sweet love to her this afternoon. Not after all their talk of beginning again, of second chances.
Just because Stephen offered his chamber to Carolyn
didn’t mean he planned to share the bed. ’Twas what Carolyn might hope for, but it wouldn’t happen.
Calmer now, she stared at her cousin. “Carolyn, you are in love with Edwin. How can you love one man and take another to bed? I have never understood that.”
She shrugged. “I loved Edwin before I wed my second husband. Look about you. How many of these wives may have loved one man yet submitted to the husbands chosen for them, given them heirs? ’Tis not unusual.”
“Except
you
have a choice. Why not submit to the man you love, marry him and give him heirs?”
Carolyn’s eyes darkened briefly. “You know why not. Besides, sharing a bed with Stephen is no hardship. The man is quite lusty.”
Carolyn would know. Hadn’t she freely admitted—nay, bragged on—how satisfying her one tryst with Stephen at Westminster had been? Had Stephen made love to Carolyn since?
Marian banished the repugnant vision before it fully formed. She might have to live with knowing Stephen had bedded Carolyn, but ’twas useless to dwell on it. Too, if Carolyn had shared Stephen’s bed at Branwick, she would surely have said something. So just the one time then, before Stephen and Marian had been reunited in a palace bedchamber, months ago. Long before this afternoon when they’d reclaimed each other in the tent.
Marian got up, resisting the urge to claw Carolyn’s eyes out, knowing both her anger at Carolyn and mistrust of Stephen unwarranted. Stephen wouldn’t make love to her and leave her, not again.
The earl’s wife approached. “Ready, my dear?”
Marian forced a smile for the gracious lady. “I am.”
“Good. Charles is anxious to get back to the tent.”
Marian followed the earl and his wife out of the keep, trying to keep her imagination from running amok.
Stephen wanted a chance to make up for all the years they’d lost, put the past behind and begin again. She just wished that somewhere in his pleas he’d said he loved her. ’Twould then be so much easier to put these niggling doubts to rest.
Stephen dipped two large cups into the ale barrel, handed one to Edwin, then sought out the far, dark corner of the hall. Edwin looked him askance but didn’t comment. Once assured of privacy, Stephen set his resolve to see his plan through. His entire future could depend on Edwin’s cooperation, Carolyn’s submission.
“Have you plans for this eve?” he asked the older man.
Edwin held up his ale cup. “Have a few of these. Perhaps ask Armand to guide me to a dice game. Your men-at-arms seemed fond enough of gambling while at Branwick, so I assume there must be a game or two about.”
Stephen smiled. “Highly likely. Harlan goes nowhere without his dice. I do, however, have another suggestion for you, an amusement you might find more….entertaining.”
The corner of Edwin’s mouth quirked upward, but his expression belied any hint of amusement. “Since I already have invitations from two of the serving wenches, your
entertainment
might lack in appeal.”
The two of them had done much verbal sparring during the contest, and Stephen had learned to like and admire Edwin, who for all his pompous attitude was truly a decent sort. Confident he and Edwin understood each other, Stephen couldn’t resist chiding the man.
“Are you any good at it?”
Edwin raised an eyebrow. “Not that it is any of your business, but I have had my share of practice and more years than you in which to perfect skills.”
“I am not proposing a contest here, Edwin. I merely suggest that the lady I have in mind for you may not be easy to please. Are you up to the challenge?”
Edwin took a long swig of ale. “I could manage
if
I were interested, which I am not. Nor do I appreciate your implication that I need your help in finding a woman willing to share my pallet.”
“Not if you are willing to settle for a serving wench. I, on the other hand, can put you in a soft bed with a woman so special, so beautiful, you will beg my pardon on the morn for being irritated with me.”
“Not interested.”
“Not even if the woman is Carolyn?”
Edwin stood thunderstruck, then his eyes narrowed and he growled, “I knew you were young and brash, but I never took you for cruel.”
He turned on his heel. Stephen caught him by the shoulder.
“I would not jest with you over such a thing, my friend. If you still want Carolyn, then you may have her with my blessing. All you need do is convince Carolyn to have you.”
Edwin turned back; Stephen released him.
“Why? I find it hard to believe you are suddenly eager to drop your suit—unless another woman has caught your fancy. Are you so fickle?”
He should have known Edwin would take insult on Carolyn’s behalf. ’Twas also rather disconcerting to have Edwin determine the cause of his change of heart so accurately.
“I fear so, but I am not so fickle as you think. When a woman captures a man’s heart, what is he to do but try to make her his own? I never understood why you have been so constant with Carolyn. I do now.”
“So you think you can simply hand Carolyn over to me and all your obligation to her disappears? Knave.”
Stephen sighed inwardly. Knave he might be, but he was still doing the right thing.
“You must promise me you will allow Carolyn some say regarding her lands. Be honest, now. This contest we took part in did nothing but prove she knows what she is about. True?”
“True,” he admitted so begrudgingly Stephen nearly laughed. He couldn’t hold back a smile.
“Well, then?”
Edwin tossed a hand in the air. “Even if I agree, there is this ridiculous impediment of my age. I am but a few years older than she, but all Carolyn sees is my graying hair. ’Tis a curse of the men in my family to go gray young, no more.”
“Do you know how Carolyn’s husbands died?”
“Hearts gave out, so I am told.”
“Did you know they succumbed in Carolyn’s bed, after claiming husbandly rights?”
After a moment’s thought, he admitted, “Nay, I did not. Who told you this?”
“Marian, who got it from Carolyn. I am under most strict orders to never breathe a word, but I think in this case the telling is justified. Have a care you keep it secret, however, for if Marian ever finds out I let the confidence slip, I am a dead man.”
Edwin finally smiled. “’Tis Marian, is it not, who has captured your heart?”
And body and soul. “Aye.”
“I wondered why you spent so much time out at the hut. Here I thought you fascinated with the twins when ’twas the mother you were after.”