Authors: Shari Anton
Lyssa’s brow scrunched. “What is a birthright?”
“The privileges and inheritance you are entitled to due to your rank. You both know you are of noble birth.”
“Because our father was of noble birth?”
“As am I.”
“Was our father a great noble?” Audra wanted to know, making Stephen wonder what Marian had told the girls about their father. Surely, they must have been curious and asked.
Marian hesitated, then tried to smile. “Your father hails from one of the highest noble families in the kingdom.” She gave the girls a squeeze. “’Tis now time for you to meet him.”
His heartbeat fluttered.
“But our father is dead! Everyone says so!” Lyssa protested.
Her smile faltered. “My darlings, I must beg your pardon for allowing you to believe that tale. Your father is quite alive and will now take his rightful place in our family.”
Marian looked up at him, giving the girls the only indication they needed to identify their father. Time seemed to stand still as the twins exchanged a glance,
as if holding a silent discussion and arriving at a mutual decision. He reminded himself to breathe.
Audra slid off the bed, slowly walked toward him and stopped beyond his arms’ reach.
“You are our father?” she asked.
The lump in his throat nearly choked off his answer. “Aye.”
Her eyes glistened. “Did we do something wrong that made you leave us?”
His heart split open. “Ah, sweetling.” He swept her up into a hug she didn’t return. She held herself stiff and away.
Patience. Give her time
.
“You did nothing wrong. Your mother—” Nay, he’d not blame Marian. He bore responsibility, too. “I have been remiss in the past, but no longer. Now that ’tis possible for your mother and I to marry, we begin a new life, the four of us.”
Her expression melted into one he recognized well, that of Marian when about to take him to task.
“Our hut is awfully small.”
His daughter’s hint of anger jarred him. He’d expected surprise and puzzlement, and he’d hoped for happiness. Right now he’d settle for acceptance.
“I have manors aplenty from which we can choose a home. Mayhap the four of us can visit them to see which you might like best.”
“Mayhap.”
He walked over to the bed, sat next to Marian and turned Audra sideways on his lap. “And mayhap we can be just friends for a while longer, until you become used to having a father.”
Lyssa crawled up onto Marian’s lap. “But if you are our father, we should call you Father, true?”
Sweet Lyssa, my thanks!
He chucked her under the chin. “When you are ready, then certes you must call me Father. I shall be honored when you do.”
Marian’s smile told him he’d said the right thing. Only time would prove her right or wrong. And now they had time, the four of them, to get to know each other better, to form a family.
A fist pounded on the door. “Lord Stephen?”
He recognized Armand’s voice, wished he could tell the squire to go away, but the knock and shout were too urgent to dismiss.
“Come!”
Armand opened the door and stepped inside the chamber. “My lord, a runner has arrived from Torgate and requests to speak to you forthwith.”
Torgate, one of his holdings, marched along the border of the king’s cherished New Forest in southern England. The steward wouldn’t send a runner to Wilmont without pressing reason.
“Trouble?”
“Brigands.”
The difference in Stephen’s demeanor gave Marian pause.
With his brothers at his side, he stood in the bailey listening intently to the messenger who’d run for nearly two full days with little sleep and no food, hoping to find Stephen, knowing help could be got from the baron if that failed. When the runner refused succor until after his tale was told, Stephen let the man ramble.
Stephen stood with arms crossed and feet spread, assuming the appearance of a powerful overlord, one now angered on his villeins’ behalf. She’d never seen this
side of him, as the man not only in command but entitled to, and receiving, the runner’s respect and confidence in his ability to right a horrible wrong.
The runner told of fields set to fire, of the sheep herd mutilated or scattered, of a tenant who’d been killed when defending his daughter against a brigand’s evil intent.
Stephen snapped out the question, “How many?”
“Near as we can tell, my lord, there be five.”
“You are not certain?”
“Nay. The brigands strike at dusk in groups of two or three, never all together.”
“What has been done?”
The runner gave a report on the attempts to catch the miscreants, to no avail. One brigand had been badly injured, but no one knew if the wound later proved fatal.
Stephen glanced at Gerard. “I will take Armand and Harlan with me, if you will allow.”
Gerard nodded his permission, then looked skyward, toward the late afternoon sun. “When do you wish to leave?”
“As soon as I change into chain mail and my horse is readied.”
Marian didn’t hear the rest of their conversation, too busy dealing with the realization that Stephen meant to go after the brigands himself. Meant to leave Wilmont within minutes.
He couldn’t leave, not now!
Stephen could get himself hurt or killed, just when they’d found each other again, just when the girls learned they had a father. She’d left the girls in the children’s room with Stephen’s nephews, with the group of them delighted they were actually cousins. They would be upset if Stephen left.
When Stephen headed toward the keep’s outer stairway at a brisk pace, Marian followed, nearly running to catch him.
“Stephen, hold. We must talk.”
He slowed and held out his hand. “Come up and help me change. We can speak there.”
Marian grasped his hand and held her peace, indeed, didn’t have breath to speak while struggling to keep up with his long, purposeful stride. As she closed the chamber door behind them, Stephen crossed the room and bent over a large trunk. He pulled out a gleaming conical helmet and tossed it toward the bed. It landed on the wolf fur with a soft thump.
She stared at the helm she’d known he must possess but never seen him wear. He bent over the trunk again. A chill swept through her at the distinctive sound of rattling iron. He pulled out his heavy chain mail.
Marian stilled the tremble in her hand and found her voice. “I would like you to reconsider going to Tor-gate.”
“I fear I cannot. You heard the runner.”
“Certes, the brigands must be caught and punished, but ’tis not necessary for you to do so yourself.”
He spread the mail out on the bed and ran a hand over the armour, checking for breaks or weak links. “Who better than me? I am the overlord, after all.”
A villein swore loyalty to his overlord in return for a promise of protection, but that didn’t mean the overlord must be the man to wield the sword.
“Could not Armand and Harlan take a group of Wilmont’s men-at-arms to Torgate? You need not go.”
Stephen’s head came up slowly. He stared at her as if her words dealt him a blow.
He
wants
to go, she realized. The prospect of a journey,
the thrill of the chase, called to him hard—harder than any whisperings of remorse over leaving her, leaving the girls.
“’Tis my duty.” He glanced down at his chain mail. “I have never been one to carefully attend my holdings, but when there is trouble I always see to it. My people expect it of me.
I
expect it of me.”
Marian heard and understood, but now others must come first.
“What of your duty to Audra and Lyssa? Should not their needs hold sway? We tell them you are their father, give them a gift they never thought to possess—and then you leave on an errand easily done by others. Your leaving tells them they are not important to you.”
“That is not true!”
“They are but five, too young to appreciate duty. They will only know you abandon them when they need you most.”
He crossed the room to stand before her, his warm, strong hands landing on her shoulders. “Then I will explain why I must go, and assure them I will return and fulfill my duty to them as every lord fulfills his duty to both his family and villeins. Our daughters have relied upon you for their entire lives for support, and will look to you for it now, not to me.” He caressed her neck, her cheeks, tilting her head back. “But this is not truly about the girls, is it? The concern I hear, the worry I see—dare I hope they are for me?”
Her fears ran deep, and unspeakable. She closed her eyes against the oncoming tears. “I do not want you to go.”
Do not abandon me, not again!
“I shall…miss you.”
His arms tightened around her. Marian clung to his tunic, breathed in the heady scent of virile male wrapped
in silk. Her head whispered that her fears were groundless; her heart remembered six lonely years without him.
“Marian, I will be fine. No brigand will lay a hand on me.”
She reached up to caress the ear missing a chunk of lobe. “What of a sword? A dagger?”
“I promise to practice great care to come home to you whole and unbloodied.”
Sometimes good intentions weren’t good enough. Her worries made no dent in his resolve, however, and further harping would only sound like childish whining. Marian dried her eyes.
“How long will you be gone?”
“As long as I must to ensure the holding and people safe.” He kissed her temple, his lips warm, his breath stirring wisps of her hair. “Come help me into my armor. The sooner gone, the sooner returned.”
Stephen pulled his silk tunic and linen sherte over his head. She hadn’t meant to touch the scar across his shoulder, hadn’t intended to press against his smooth, bare chest to beg another kiss. She certainly hadn’t planned to end up sprawled on his bed atop the soft wolf coverlet, his fingers making quick work of her gown’s lacings.
“We have no time for this,” he said, his kisses and caresses drawing her downward into a whirlpool of swirling heat and mind-fogging bliss.
“Think on it as saying fare-thee-well, and do it right.”
“With you I cannot seem to do it wrong.”
And he didn’t. His possession came hard and full, in swift and thorough measure. Her body responded as always, desperately grasping his, reaching for that perfect moment when passion reached its peak. Marian tumbled
over with a cry of pleasure melded with pain. He followed close behind with a groan of completion mingled with sapped strength.
He nuzzled in her neck. “You are welcome to my chamber while I am gone. ’Twould be pleasing to think of you here, warming my bed.”
Remain at Wilmont for weeks, residing in Stephen’s chamber, missing him dreadfully, with little to occupy her hands or mind? She’d go mad.
“Carolyn told me she and Edwin leave on the morrow for Branwick. The girls and I will go home with them.”
“To the hut?”
Marian dismissed his undisguised objection. “’Tis our home until you find us another.”
He brushed sweat-dampened wisps of hair from her forehead, his touch gentle, his expression concerned. “At least do me the favor of residing at the keep.”
“If you wish,” she said, not intending to do any such thing, but unwilling to argue with Stephen right now. He was leaving, off to bring a band of brigands to justice, off on an exciting adventure.
As she watched Stephen transform from splendid lover to warrior knight, her deepest fear once again coiled around her heart. True, the girls would be upset at Stephen’s leaving. The man she loved could be hurt or worse. But what she feared most, had seen a hint of earlier, was his true desire to be gone.
Once he was far away from her, with time to think on what he was giving up, would he have a change of heart? Would the freedom he cherished so highly overpower his good intentions?
Would his eagle’s wings fly him back to her or would he soar far beyond her reach?
M
arian stared at the uncle she’d thought she knew well. William of Branwick. The man who’d been married to her mother’s sister, and who apparently corresponded with his sister-by-marriage, Edith de Lacy, far more often and deeply than mere greetings at Yuletide. The man who’d just given Marian the surprise of her life.
“You
knew?
” she managed to ask.
“We suspected.” William shifted against the bolster of his bed. “Believe me, your parents will be relieved to hear the matter will at long last be resolved.”
Marian sat down on the corner of the bed, her legs too wobbly to trust.
Only an hour ago they’d returned to Branwick. Carolyn and Edwin had informed William of their decision to marry and asked his blessing, which he promptly gave. Then the girls had given William their version of how the journey and visit to Wilmont had gone. After William sent the girls out to the kitchen to fetch treats, and Carolyn and Edwin left to begin planning a wedding ceremony, Marian told him the rest of the story.
To hear he already knew…suspected…Stephen was
the girls’ father, ’twas a jolt she hadn’t been prepared for.
She and Stephen had been so sure they’d kept their trysts private, their attraction to each other concealed.
She found her voice again. “How did you know?”
“By the time your mother suspected Stephen, Hugo had already threatened to toss you out the gate for defying him. Then you had the audacity to leave Murwaithe, sending him into another rage. He told me that since I had you I could keep you until you came into your right mind.” He chuckled. “Then the twins were born in a timely fashion and possessed glorious black hair. Edith wanted to come get you, but Hugo refused to chase after his errant daughter. So we agreed you should stay here, under my care, until you either married some other man or relented and named the girls’ sire.”
Astounded by the revelations, Marian asked, “So the three of you discussed all this by messenger? How did I not notice?”
“You
were
more deeply interested in other things at the time—before the birth with food and sleep, afterward with the babes. In most else you took little notice or care.”
Marian admitted she’d wallowed in her misery, then thrown her whole self into motherhood, determined the girls should never want for lack of a father.
“’Tis surprising Father did not go to Wilmont with his suspicions.”
“Unless you were willing to point a finger at Stephen, Hugo saw no sense in confronting a man as powerful as the baron of Wilmont on suspicion alone. If Stephen denied involvement with you, ’twould leave Hugo without recourse.” William waved a hand in the air. “What
is done is done. You and Stephen will set all to rights as soon as you marry. When might that be?”
Marian shrugged and told him of Stephen’s journey to Torgate, and why. “He will return when the matter is settled.”
During the two-day journey from Wilmont to Bran-wick she’d managed to quiet her fears over Stephen’s safety. Over whether or not he’d chase an eagle or two after ridding Torgate of the bandits she wasn’t quite sure. But Stephen would come for her, eventually, if only for the girls’ sake.
Eager for a change of subject, she patted William’s knee.
“How are you feeling these days? Any more improvement?”
“Some. Actually, after all you young people left for Wilmont, I needed to find other amusement. So I had Ivo build me a litter. A couple of days ago we harnessed it to two horses and took a walk around the bailey. Felt good to be out and about.” He paused, then smiled widely. “Go tell Ivo to harness it up again. I believe the girls and I shall take a ride.”
Marian got up, knowing her daughters would be thrilled, then thought of one more question she needed to ask.
“You must have been stunned when Carolyn came home from Westminster with the news she wished to wed Stephen of Wilmont. Suspecting his relationship to the girls, would you have let them marry?”
He hesitated, then said, “I debated long on whether or not to even allow him the gate, then decided his presence here might do two things—give Carolyn a chance to compare another man to Edwin, who I knew she was fond of, and might give you and Stephen a chance to
reconcile. ’Twas an opportunity for all of you to come to your senses I could not resist.”
A chance to compare
.
“Then you knew you would declare a contest before Stephen even came.”
“Oh, nay, that was a whim, a rather good one I might add, to stall for time. I thought to give the men something to do while you ladies sorted out their qualities. I must say we all did learn a bit from the contest. Agreed?”
Edwin had learned to appreciate Carolyn’s skills. His consent to allow her the freedom to use those skills was essential to their happiness—as well as the condition of his health in bed.
Marian had seen Stephen in a different light—as a man capable of steadfastness and good judgment, with the ability to be a proper husband and loving father. That he might not always do or say the right thing, but his intentions were usually good.
What had William learned? Stephen? Not that it truly mattered, considering all had turned out well in the end, or would be well after Stephen came to fetch her and the girls.
“Agreed. I will have Ivo harness the litter.”
Marian strode out to find Branwick’s steward, vowing to allow William a great deal of time with the girls in the following weeks, before Stephen returned and took them all off to wherever he’d chosen for them to live.
Where might that be? Stephen owned several holdings scattered throughout the kingdom, estates which he must visit from time to time, a responsibility which would take him from her side on occasion. Too, every knight owed forty days of service each year to his overlord, a duty Stephen owed Gerard.
No matter how much it bothered her, ’twasn’t possible for Stephen to keep to hearth and home all of the time, be around whenever she might have need of him. ’Struth, no husband of wealth and property could and still be a proper lord to his people.
And Stephen possessed a free spirit, a wanderer’s soul, subject to whims of fancy. If she tried to hold him too tight, she’d smother the essence of the man she professed to love.
Marriage to Stephen gave the girls the protection of their father’s name, and Marian a measure of the security she craved. All in all, she’d rather live with Stephen than without him, loved him too much to do otherwise, would adjust to whatever changes she must. Stephen would have his share of changes to adjust to as well.
’Twas how most marriages began, was it not?
Already three brigands dangled from the roadside tree, a warning to others who might contemplate villainy that the lord of Torgate tolerated none. The fourth brigand sat atop his horse—too fine a piece of horseflesh not to be stolen—with his hands tied and a rope looped around his neck, looking anywhere but at his fellows.
Stephen had never given the order for such severe punishment before, but with these men he felt no qualms over making so harsh a judgment. Not a one of them had shown a bit of remorse for his misdeeds. If allowed a lesser punishment than death, they’d only move on to the next holding to plunder and kill and ravish again.
A female just into her womanhood stepped forward from the crowd gathered to watch and cheer as each brigand received his punishment. Stephen looked into hazel eyes that reflected no joy of youth, only deeply held pain. Every time he saw Nettie, he thought of the
degradation Audra or Lyssa might someday face, and his ire rose another notch. Nettie had asked permission to mete out this last brigand’s punishment, and he saw no reason to deny her request.
Still, knowing her a fairly timid soul, he felt duty bound to let her back out if she chose. “Are you sure you wish to do this, Nettie?”
“Aye, my lord,” she said quietly, and looked up into the face of the man about to hang. “He killed my father, then raped me. Aye, I am sure.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I want his horse afterward.”
The spark of anger and outrageous demand gave Stephen hope she’d recover from her ordeal. “The horse is yours.” He handed her a willow switch and stepped back. “Hit hard enough to make him bolt.”
Nettie nodded, then adjusted her grip. With a mighty swing she smacked the horse’s rump. The crowd cheered as the horse took off from beneath its former master. The rope went taut; the brigand’s neck snapped. Nettie dropped the switch and flew back to her mother’s open arms.
His duty here was done. Almost. He wished he hadn’t agreed to stay tonight to preside over a feast prepared in his honor, but Torgate’s residents wanted to show their gratitude and celebrate the brigands’ capture and demise. So be it. He could rein in his patience for a few hours more, then be off at morning light.
He’d been separated from Marian for a mere sennight. It felt like forever.
The crowd began to disperse. Stephen accepted the thanks of those who passed by him, then headed toward where Armand and Harlan waited for him.
“A decent few days’ work, my lord,” Harlan said. “Your tracking skills are to be commended.”
High praise from the gruff old knight who’d taught him how to follow a trail.
Armand rubbed his hands together. “No one will expect us back so soon. What say, Stephen? Perhaps a visit to London on the way back is in order.”
There was a time he’d have agreed in a heartbeat. He loved the city, from the grand entertainments in Westminster Hall to listening to the hawkers at dockside. Just strolling the streets could prove exciting.
“Not for me,” he said, drawing surprise from both companions. “You two may do as you wish, but I am for Branwick.”
For a quiet hut on the edge of the hamlet. To Marian, whom he doubted had obeyed his wishes to reside at the keep. Stubborn woman. But he loved her anyway and couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than with Marian.
Harlan rubbed his white bearded chin. “Branwick, hmm? Well now, there is young Edwin who might yet have a coin or two to wager.”
Young Edwin? Naturally, to Harlan most everyone was young. Age was all a matter of one’s perspective, Stephen supposed.
A spark of interest lit Armand’s eyes. “There is the little dairy maid who must miss me by now.”
Amused, Stephen shook his head. “Neither of you are obliged to go with me. With our duty here done, you may return to Wilmont, even by way of London if you choose.”
Harlan shook his head. “Best not let you go alone. You know how the baron worries over you.”
Someday Gerard might stop worrying, like on the day the ocean turned into an ice pond. Stephen better understood his brother’s concern, however, for he now had
worries of his own about those little darlings he’d protect with his very life if it came to it. Love did strange things to one’s perspective.
“Then I welcome your company.” He glanced over his shoulder at the brigands. “Armand, see to it that Nettie has taken charge of her horse. Harlan, inform the steward the brigands are to stay up but three days, no more. I hate the sight of dangling bones.”
Stephen then turned his sights north, where his next task awaited him—to prove to Marian that he’d changed, that she could trust him, love him. ’Twould take far longer than a few days, he didn’t doubt.
Marian heard the pounding of hoofbeats and the jangle of tack long before the riders reached her hut. She set aside a partially decorated table linen to look out the door, telling herself ’twas foolish to look for Stephen so soon, but hoping all the same.
As she passed through the doorway, Armand and Harlan flung up hands of greeting, never slowing their pace. With a flourish, Stephen reined his black stallion to a halt at her stone wall. He’d come for her. Finally. With an undignified whoop of joy she ran across the small yard and out the gate, giving Stephen barely enough time to dismount before she slammed into him.
He picked her up, swung her around once, then lowered her for a kiss that melted her insides and stole away her breath. Hardly proper behavior for in the middle of the road, but she couldn’t bring herself to protest.
Snug against Stephen, she listened to the beat of his heart, reveled in his firm embrace. “’Tis good to see you, my lord.”
He chuckled. “Mayhap I should go away again just so I can return.”
Marian’s racing heart slowed. She knew he teased her this time, and yet, only a few days ago the jest might have raised either her ire or panic. Perhaps she’d make him a good wife after all.
He hugged her harder. “Ah, Marian. You have no notion of how much I missed you, and the girls. Are they here?”
She tamped down the unwarranted, truly loathsome jealousy that he should ask after his daughters so soon. Naturally he wanted to see them. He loved them.
“At the keep with William. I thought it best they spend as much time with him as possible before you returned. Shall we go fetch them?”
“Not as yet. We need to talk first.”
Marian braced for the worst—that while he was gone he’d regretted his hasty decision to marry her. She shouldn’t have let him go off without her, given him time on his own to regret his impulsive decision.
Then she took a deep breath, upbraiding her tendency to make hasty assumptions where Stephen was concerned. ’Twas a bad habit she’d formed six years ago and needed to break.
“Did all not go well at Torgate? Catch the brigands?”
“Caught and punished. Did the twins come to understand why I had to leave Wilmont so suddenly? They seemed to take the news well when I stopped to say them farewell.”
On that she could ease his mind. “They were far more upset at finding out their mother is not perfect. We have had several talks since over how grown people can make mistakes.”
He kissed her forehead. “But you are perfect.”
She couldn’t withhold a huff of disdain. “I am so far from perfect as to be laughable. Please do not expect it
from me, as I will try very hard not to expect perfection of you.”
He smiled then. “Agreed. Might I assume you have forgiven me for leaving you, too?”
“’Twas selfish on my part to want you all to myself. I know you have other obligations, not just to me and the girls, duties that will take you from us on occasion. I may not like it, but will strive not to hold it against you.”