Knave of Hearts (10 page)

He’d done well to listen to William’s recommendation. This gift would put him in Ardith’s good graces for years.

He glanced over at Lyssa, snuggled against Marian. Her eyes were open and more alert than he’d expected.

“Which is your favorite?”

“My lambs. Did you see them?”

“Aye, and Audra’s kittens, too. Your mother was rather proud of both when she showed them to me, with good reason.”

Audra’s hold loosened. She sniffed and ran a hand across her eyes. “If you move the blanket, you can see the table linen she started.”

Stephen did as instructed. Marian had completed only a few stitches in indigo. He picked up a wax tablet from beside the batch of colorful thread.

“Is this the design?” he asked, thinking it looked familiar but couldn’t say from where.

Audra’s forefinger traced the swirls as she related which colors would go where. “Mama got the idea for it from our storybook.”

“Wonderful idea, from wherever it came.”

Stephen put the tablet down, handed the blanket to Audra to hold, then put everything back neatly. He closed the lid, then stood up.

Tension yet thrummed between Marian and Audra, but not as heated as before. The two had unfinished business. From experience with his own mother, he knew the faster done the better, no matter who won.

“What say we trade?”

Marian mulled over his suggestion, glancing from Lyssa up to Audra and back again. “The headache eases. You must keep her still with this cold rag on her head.”

“Easy enough duty.”

Marian smiled wryly. “So you think.” With a grace that bespoke of long practice, she rose from the floor without jostling Lyssa. She handed over one daughter while reaching for the other. “Come, you, we have porridge to clean up.”

Audra went easily enough, and as the two went about setting the hut to rights, Stephen settled on the floor with Lyssa, a wet rag and the new baby blanket. He set his back hard against the wall and crossed his booted ankles. Lyssa wiggled about to get comfortable, too. Then she wiggled some more. He finally clamped the rag to her head and pressed her head against his shoulder.

She ran a finger over a cub. “Is the baby borned yet?”

“Aye. Two days ago.”

She tried to look up at him; he held her still.

“Has he a name?”

“Matthew. Your mother said you must remain still. Does that also mean no talking?”

“It does,” Marian answered from near the hearth.

“Ah. Then, little one, I suggest you close your eyes and go to sleep before you get us both into trouble.”

Lyssa giggled, but her eyes closed.

Stephen watched Marian move about the hut, putting things away. She gave the task of sweeping up the porridge-coated rushes to Audra, who swept slowly and held fast to her sulks.

Then Marian bent over to pick up a bowl and Stephen forgot all about little girls and baby blankets in favor of admiring the woman’s beautifully molded bottom.

Friends. Old friends. Nothing more. Except his dear old friend possessed a beautifully molded bottom. She straightened and put the bowl on the table, abruptly halting the beginnings of an erotic fantasy.

“I saw a messenger come this morn,” she said. “He brought news of the babe’s birth?”

“Aye.” He didn’t trust himself to say more.

“Carolyn said you would likely be called to Wilmont for the christening.”

“We leave on the morn.”

She turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. “We?”

“Carolyn is going with me to meet my family.”

“Oh.” She turned away. “How nice.”

“Not very. William insists Edwin go, too, as escort—or rather watchdog.”

“I wish you all a nice journey.”

Stephen barely discerned she truly didn’t when she reached up on the mantel for a stoppered brown bottle. Audra dropped the broom and covered her nose and mouth with both hands. Despite his hold on Lyssa, the girl managed to turn her face into his shoulder.

Marian put a hand on her hip. “Oh, come now you two, ’tis not
that
bad.”

“Bleech!” Lyssa commented into his shoulder

A potion, Stephen realized as Marian headed toward him. He fought the urge to protect Lyssa from her
mother. ’Twas a potion she meant to give the girl, not poison.

Marian knelt on the floor. “A sip, Lyssa, that is all.”

“Mama, must I? ’Tis terrible stuff.”

“Would you rather hurt all the night long?”

“Aye!”

Marian pulled the cloth stopper from the bottle and Stephen understood the girls’ reactions. The medicine stank, a wholly wretched odor. He was a seasoned warrior, a veteran of many a campaign and encampments. He’d smelled worse without his stomach heaving, but not much worse.

“What the hell is that?”

Marian rolled her eyes. “If Lyssa does not take the potion, then her headache will return full force within hours. ’Tis either this or sit up the greater part of the night, and I have not the strength or patience tonight.”

“Fine, then I shall.”

Marian’s eyes went wide, and Stephen realized what he’d offered. One look at Lyssa’s worshipful expression prevented him from taking the words back. Marian’s expression was anything but worshipful.

“You cannot stay the whole night!”

“Why not? I have nothing better to do.”

“People will talk.”

“No one knows I am here.” Well, only Armand and Harlan who he’d left checking the supply wagons. They’d not tell.

“Oh, Stephen—”

“Please, Mama? I hate that medicine.”

Lyssa’s plea apparently caught Marian in the heart. She brushed her daughter’s loose hair back. With a sad smile, she relented. “For a few hours then, until the pain
is completely gone. And you must lie very still. Understood?”

“Still as stone,” Lyssa said, but didn’t relax until Marian stoppered the bottle. “My thanks,” she whispered to him, then closed her eyes.

’Twas utterly foolish to feel so much the hero. He was going to pay for his heroism dearly with sore muscles come morn.

Lyssa lay as quite as was possible for Lyssa. Marian and Audra finished cleaning the mess. Mother and daughter shared a light repast of bread and cheese, which they offered to share with him but he declined. Afterward, when Audra shyly asked for a story, Marian gave the girl a hug and agreed.

All was right within this tiny hut—all but Lyssa’s headache and an increasing numbness at the base of his spine.

’Twas far past nightfall when Marian finished reading the last of three stories and insisted Audra bed down. Lyssa had fallen asleep in the middle of the first story.

Marian sank down beside him, on Lyssa’s pallet.

“Sore yet?” she asked. He ignored her amusement.

“Not too.” Not that he’d admit, anyway. Truly, Lyssa wasn’t terribly heavy and fitted nicely on his lap. “’Tis better than having to pour that wretched potion down her.”

“Except the potion helps and allows us all to sleep.”

“There must be another which works and is less horrible.”

“Not that I have found.”

Mayhap there wasn’t. He knew Marian had taken Lyssa into London to see a physician, and likely tried every herb and potion known hereabout before making that long, hard journey in search for a cure.

Wilmont was but two days away, and at Wilmont was Ardith.

He rejected the burgeoning notion immediately. Taking Marian along to Wilmont was a bad idea. Too much temptation. He needed time alone with Carolyn.

Except Lyssa needed a cure for her headaches and he was in a position to help Marian find it. Mayhap Ardith couldn’t help, but she would try. Ah, hell.

“I know this is sudden, but could you be ready to leave on the morn? You and the girls?”

Marian’s confusion wrinkled her brow. “Leave for where?”

“Come to Wilmont with me.” At the shake of Marian’s head, he explained. “I have told you a bit about Ardith. She truly is a remarkable woman. She also knows more about remedies for illnesses than Wilmont’s apothecary. Mayhap she could help Lyssa.”

Marian pursed her lips, undecided. “We have tried so much.”

“What could it hurt to try again?”

“More poking and prodding. More foul potions. I hate to put Lyssa through all that only to come away disappointed once more.”

“Ardith pokes and prods gently, I swear.”

She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and stared at some spot on the far wall. He waited, watching the emotions of her decision play out on her expressive face. It seemed eons before she spoke.

“I suppose the blacksmith’s lads can feed the chickens.”

M
arian rode next to the driver of the lead supply wagon, holding tight to Audra, wondering if she’d made yet one more mistake.

She’d been too exhausted last night to make a decision of such consequence, considering only the possible benefit to Lyssa and the practical matters of what clothing to take and of who would feed the chickens and milk the goat.

She’d given no thought to how Carolyn might feel about her going along to Wilmont. Carolyn’s pique at having more company on this trip than she wanted, including
both
twins, Marian could deal with.

William’s reaction to their leaving proved harder to understand. He didn’t like being parted from the girls for long. Strange he hadn’t objected, much less thought the idea wonderful.

A good wagon length ahead of her, Carolyn rode bezside Edwin. Mounted on a fine bay, gowned in flowing amber with matching veil, Carolyn rode stiff-backed and silent, every bit the highborn lady on an important journey.

Marian couldn’t help compare the meager contents of
her sack with the many beautiful gowns in Carolyn’s trunks. Ah, well. ’Twas Carolyn who’d be on display at Wilmont, her taste and deportment judged. Marian didn’t intend to become familiar with Stephen’s family or attend any feasts or functions, so her one change of work-a-day garb would serve. She’d meet with Lady Ardith and discuss Lyssa’s ailment, then keep to herself as much as possible without giving offense.

Edwin rode loose and well. He truly was a good-looking man with a kind heart. If he amended his views on a woman’s place, and Carolyn disregarded Edwin’s age, the two could make a good match. Both were far too stubborn for words.

Beyond them rode Stephen and his squire and, at the moment, Lyssa with Stephen. Naturally, the girls preferred to ride at the front of the company on a magnificent stallion to sitting with their mother. Stephen did his best to give the girls equal time, though Marian suspected Audra received a bit of preference because she sat more quietly than Lyssa. Stallions could be skittish and hard to handle, and it wasn’t Lyssa’s nature to be still for long.

Like her father.

He’d amazed her last night with his ability to sit for long hours, along with his deft handling of the girls and the situation he’d walked into. Gads, he’d scolded Audra for opening the door heedlessly, then gently prodded three irritable females into better temper.

The man
did
have a way with females, one of his traits that had gotten her into trouble in the first place. If she hadn’t been susceptible to his easy charm, become entranced by his bright-green eyes and humor-touched mouth, she’d not have lain with him.

But then she wouldn’t have Audra and Lyssa.

There lay her greatest fear in making this journey to Wilmont, that someone with a keen eye and discerning mind might make the connection between Stephen and his daughters. ’Twas a risk her weary mind hadn’t considered until this morn, until seeing the girls merrily riding with their father.

Before they reached Wilmont, she must have a word with Stephen about riding into his home without the encumbrance of a little girl on his lap. He’d have duties to perform—greetings to his family, introductions to Carolyn and Edwin—all valid and needing his full attention. Best he do so without juggling a raven-haired little girl.

Maybe she made too much of the possibility. No one at Branwick had made the connection, so ’twas unlikely anyone at Wilmont would, either. Still, she’d lessen the risk.

Stephen raised a fist in the air. The wagon’s driver pulled the oxen to a halt. Marian knew Stephen hadn’t planned to stop until time for nooning, another hour or so yet away.

“Something amiss?” Marian asked the driver.

“Nay, my lady,” he answered, amused. “Either Lord Stephen’s stomach grumbles early or he spotted something of interest alongside the road. A body never knows how long ’twill take to get from one place to another when traveling with his lordship.”

The reason for the delay soon became apparent. Stephen lowered Lyssa to the ground, then dismounted and tossed his reins to Armand. Lyssa scurried off into the woods. Stephen followed and stood guard at the edge.

The driver chuckled. Carolyn turned around in the saddle and glared at Marian, as if it were her fault Stephen inconvenienced the entire company so Lyssa could relieve herself.

Lyssa soon came out of the woods with a sunny smile on her face and a bunch of white flowers in her hand. Stephen scooped her up, and the company was soon on its way again.

When next they stopped ’twas in a lovely glade, the perfect place to stretch stiff muscles and satisfy grumbling stomachs.

Marian no more than lowered Audra down from the wagon when the girl raced for the woods. With a chuckle, Marian began to follow. Carolyn’s furious countenance stopped her.

“You
will
have a talk with Lyssa about proper behavior before we reach Wilmont. I refuse to be so embarrassed by one of mine own people again, especially before so august a gathering.”

Marian thought to object to the admonishment, then realized Carolyn had the right of it. The girls must now remember and practice the rules for children in a noble household.

Audra and Lyssa enjoyed few restrictions at Branwick because of William’s leniency. At Wilmont, the seat of a powerful baron, such leniency wouldn’t be tolerated.

As members of Branwick’s household, the twins’ conduct would reflect on Carolyn, who understandably wished to make only the best of impressions.

“I will have a word with them.”

“See that you do.” Carolyn flounced off toward where Audra had raced.

Now, while they were stopped to rest, might be a good time to have that talk. She looked for Lyssa, nowhere to be seen.

Stephen strolled toward her, grinning. “Lyssa is with Armand, getting a crust of bread. She is
starving
.”

Not surprising. Lyssa lost her appetite when the headaches
hit, a good thing because food upset her stomach. She’d not eaten much yesterday and downed only a small portion of porridge before setting out this morning. Still, now she inconvenienced Armand who had better things to do than fetch a crust of bread for a child.

The girls definitely needed a reminder of their manners.

Stephen nodded toward where Carolyn had gone. “Why is Carolyn so angry?”

“She expressed concern over Lyssa’s behavior this morn.”

“Lyssa’s…oh, our unscheduled stop?”

“You should have asked her to wait.”

Stephen crossed his arms. “And risk a wet lap? I think not.”

“She delayed the company and embarrassed Carolyn.”

“Too bad.”

Why was Stephen being so obtuse? He’d grown up in the household of a baron. Surely he knew the rules of conduct as well as she did!

“Carolyn worries over the girls’ behavior at Wilmont, and rightly so. ’Tis one thing for William to permit them freedoms in his household, quite another for them to show less than proper training when in company. They
do
know their manners, but must be reminded.”

“So I should have let Lyssa suffer?”

“I doubt Lyssa’s need was so urgent. She did have time to pick flowers.”

He tossed a hand in the air. “How should I have known? I am not used to traveling with children.” He huffed. “Remind the girls of their manners if you must, but keep in mind who is in charge of this company. If I say we stop, we stop, for whatever reason.”

She’d angered him without meaning to. He’d done what he thought best.

“All I ask is you not give in to their whims too readily. Truly, it might be best if the twins rode with me from now on.”

Disappointment briefly displaced his anger. “Audra is due another turn. Would you deny her?”

“Nay. She may have her turn.”

He placed his hands on his hips, turned to where Audra sauntered out of the woods. “I suppose you know what is best for them.”

Marian prayed she did, but there had been times lately when she wasn’t sure at all—especially about denying the girls their father’s company, and he his daughters. After watching him do so well with them last night, and again today, ’twas obvious Stephen had a natural way with children. His daughters responded to his tender care with affection.

Would it truly be so bad if she told only Stephen and the girls? Could she give them to each other without ruining all of their lives?

The twins practiced staying out of the way while Stephen oversaw the setting up of the tent in which the women would sleep tonight. Both girls would dearly love to take a hammer swing at a stake. While Marian allowed them to watch—with a hand clamped firmly on each twins’ shoulder—they weren’t allowed underfoot.

Left to Stephen, he’d have put a hammer in their hands and let them satisfy their curiosity. Sitting quietly and speaking only when spoken to had its place, but so did unfettered curiosity and high spirits. They’d ridden in the wagon for most of the afternoon, receiving instruction
from Marian—to the amusement of the driver—and must be weary of lessons by now.

“I wish you had brought our storybook,” Lyssa complained.

“Lyss-a.” Marian’s admonishment came softly at the end of her daughter’s name.

Lyssa didn’t look chastised. “I apologize for complaining, but I still wish you had brought our storybook.”

Stephen cleared his throat to choke off a burst of laughter. Time for a diversion, for a bit of freedom before the twins must practice eating daintily.

“Marian, what say we take the girls down to the river? When we watered the oxen, I thought I saw some flowers and frogs on the banks that might interest them.”

To the girls’ credit, both stood perfectly still, the only sign of their excitement the sparkling in widening eyes. Marian glanced over to where Carolyn had seated herself on a boulder, arranged her skirts into perfect order and watched everyone else bustle about.

Stephen quelled a twinge of guilt for leaving Carolyn behind. After all, since giving Audra her last ride, he’d spent some time riding next to Carolyn. Sad to say, Audra proved the better company. He’d half listened to Carolyn’s rambling, then been unexpectedly rewarded for his patience with an intriguing tidbit about Marian. Apparently, several men at Branwick had offered for Marian and, much to Carolyn’s annoyance, her cousin turned them all aside.

“Shall we go sit by the river, girls?” Marian asked.

“Aye, Mama.”

“Walk, if you please.”

Two heads swiveled around and tilted upward. They stared at Marian, incredulous at the order to walk.

“Walk.” With the command reinforced, Marian turned to Stephen. “We are ready, my lord. Lead on.”

Stephen set a sedate pace through the campsite, pausing where the livestock was staked to tell Edwin of his destination. As the man of highest rank left behind in camp, Edwin must be informed. The girls practiced greetings and curtsies to Edwin before they moved on.

He quickened the pace through the woods, following the path the oxen had efficiently tramped down when headed for water. When he heard the river, he turned around.

“Do you hear the river? See the path?”

“Certes,” Audra said, near insulted.

“Good. Last one to the bank does not get to take her sandals off and go barefoot in the water.”

The girls streaked past him. Marian tossed her hands in the air and looked heavenward.

“Sorry, could not help myself,” he told Marian, not sorry at all, then raced after the girls. He reached the bank to see Lyssa taking off a sandal.

“Audra lost,” the tyke proclaimed.

“Not so. Your mother lost.”

Audra flashed him a grateful smile. Stephen sat down next to her and shucked his boots and hose. No sense letting the girls have all the fun. Besides, if there was a frog to be caught, the girls would need help. He rolled up his breeches and soon the three of them were mucking about in the muddy water along the bank.

When Marian finally reached them, she set all the footwear to order, then sat down on the grass. Stephen thought to invite her to join in the frog hunt, then watched her lean back on her hands, close her eyes and tilt her face upward toward the fading sunlight.

So at peace. So utterly delectable.

He stood in ankle-deep, cool water, yet his loins stirred. No harm looking at his old and dear friend, he decided, so long as he didn’t touch, which would send him up in flames and necessitate a swim.

Why hadn’t Marian remarried?

’Twas certainly none of his concern, and he’d put his musings on the matter to rest weeks ago. Except he hadn’t known until this afternoon about the offers she rejected, and began wondering all over again about Marian’s deceased husband. About what kind of man he’d been. Had he been suited to her or not? Did she reject suitors because she found all the men unacceptable or because she didn’t wish to marry again?

Had she found marriage hateful, or loved her husband so much no other man could compare?

Marian was so beautiful, both in face and manner, she could have her pick of the finest crop. She’d get a good deal of male attention at Wilmont. His brother had likely invited most of England’s high nobility to attend his son’s christening. The king might even show up; the queen stood as godmother to little Everart, Gerard’s heir.

He should have left Marian at Branwick. A widow of noble rank, with her pleasing disposition, she would draw marriage-hungry males like bees to honey. If any one of them took advantage of her sweet vulnerability, he’d personally run the man through!

The violence of the thought brought him up short. Who was he to proclaim himself as judge? If Marian found a suitable mate for herself at Wilmont, so be it. Someone constant, unfailingly trustworthy, who could give her and the girls a secure home, protect and love them as they deserved.

Someone very unlike himself.

He’d be a curse to a woman like Marian. She needed
a husband she could rely on for security. ’Twas why he courted Carolyn, a woman who preferred to provide her own security.

“Where are the frogs?” Lyssa asked.

Jolted back to the task at hand, Stephen steered the girls toward the tall rushes. “Mayhap they hide.”