“No,” she repeated.
He was silent for so long that Marion wondered if he had fallen asleep, but then his eyes shot open and she saw the stunned look in them. The de Burghs were all full of themselves, as she well knew, and the Wolf more so than most. Undoubtedly, the thought of anyone refusing him was incomprehensible. He would want to know why…. Marion felt like squirming as his fierce green gaze sought her own, but she schooled herself to return his regard without flinching.
“‘Tis too dangerous. I would not have you risk your life any further,” she explained, staring directly at him. “With the jewels, I can buy a new life in some town along your route. It will be much simpler, Dunstan. You will have discharged your duty to Campion and you may see to your own business.”
Marion finished, proud of her control, and even managed to conjure up some semblance of a smile. However, all of her efforts appeared to have been for naught, because Dunstan gave her a long-suffering glance that told her he dismissed every word as female foolishness.
“Stop your chattering, wren,” he said, shutting his eyes again.
“Dunstan de Burgh! Listen to me,” Marion cried, a bit desperately. “I will not wed you!”
Without lifting his lids, he smiled smugly in that exasperating way of his. “Save your shrieks for our marriage bed,” he whispered.
Marion began to protest, but thought better of it. How quickly she had forgotten the uselessness of arguing with the Wolf. He would always have his own way, right or wrong, great bully that he was! How dare he force her to marry him when he acted only out of honor or pity—or some such emotion?
Marion’s nails dug into her palms as she struggled with her own despair. She could not wed him! There had to be a way out of this…. She glanced over at him suddenly. He was breathing in a low, even rhythm, as if he dozed, and Marion knew that he caught snatches of sleep here and there when he could.
If he truly slumbered… Marion’s agile mind grasped a plan, spinning out the possibilities. It would not be the first time she had fled from Dunstan’s wardship, and now, since they no longer traveled to Baddersly, he would not expect her to try again. They were all alone out here. All she had to do was get up and go. She would head east to one of the coastal towns, and present herself as the widow of a soldier. It would not be easy, without protection, but perhaps she could hire a manservant….
Money! She would need her jewels, which were in a small pouch attached to Dunstan’s belt. Marion had never asked for them back, and why should she, when they were safe where they were? Marion bit back one of Dunstan’s foul curses at her own foolishness. Well, she would just have to get them now, before she left. The thought of retrieving them from where they lay, against the top of one of Dunstan’s steely thighs, set her cheeks to burning, but she would have to do it, and without disturbing him, either.
Drawing in a deep breath, Marion inched closer. Dunstan’s visage remained unchanged, his long lashes still and flush against his broad cheeks. The beauty of the man struck her to the bone, and she faltered, but then she bent over him, her fingers reaching toward it….
His hand flashed so quickly that Marion blinked, dazedly surprised to find him grasping her wrist in a tight hold. She looked up into his eyes, fierce and alert, glaring at her with obvious menace. “You desire something, Marion?”
He was angry, and so big and dangerous that Marion nearly quailed before him, but somehow she summoned the courage to respond. “I was but after my jewels,” she whispered.
His lips curved in a wicked, feral smile. “You disappoint me, wren. I thought ‘twas my jewels you were after.”
When she eyed him blankly, he loosed her and swore, long and harshly. Absently, Marion rubbed her wrist, while she stared at him, wide-eyed and uncertain.
“Did I not warn you never to flee from me again, Marion?” he asked.
She nodded mutely before finding her voice. “But, Dunstan, it is different now. You rescued me from my uncle, and I am grateful, but you need do no more, truly.” She backed away from the murderous scowl on his face and raised her palms in supplication.
“Do not glare at me so. I was but trying to save you from yourself! From the very beginning, you have complained that you wanted to be rid of me, a troublesome piece of baggage.” To her horror, Marion felt her lips tremble and tears press at the back of her eyes. Not now…she could not break now. Silently, Marion willed herself to go on firmly, but she could not meet his gaze. “Surely, you do not want to bind yourself to me forever?”
She felt his huge palm against her cheek, gently turning her toward him, and she saw something pass across his features, easing the lines of strain there. Apparently, she had soothed the Wolf’s sore temper, though she was not sure how.
“Do not fret so, wren. I am well satisfied with my decision,” he said gruffly. He ran a thumb down her cheek, causing her to shiver, and then he smiled—a smug, infuriating, male gesture.
“Come along, before you tempt me to prove my satisfaction,” he growled. Then he rose in one swift, graceful motion and pulled her with him. And Marion had no choice but to follow.
* * *
Dunstan strode along in the tall grass by the river’s edge, intent upon any sign of danger, but the woman at his side intruded in his thoughts more often than not. Why would she refuse him? He was titled and landed and no pauper. He had saved her life more than once, and he had brought her pleasure such that she screamed out in ecstasy. By faith, she had given him her virginity, why not her hand in marriage?
He grunted in annoyance. Why must anything involving the wren be fraught with complications and complexities? He liked them not. And she was the most perverse of females! Why could she not tell him the truth? Instead, she gave him an explanation that he knew to be a lie.
Of course, her opinion mattered little. They would be wed, Dunstan thought grimly. It was the most sensible solution to the threat posed by her uncle. Legally, Peasely was still her guardian, and the swiftest, simplest way to remove him from that position would be to get her a husband. Since she had no suitors or otherwise eligible parties to choose from, he was the logical choice. And since she had given him her maidenhead, he was theonlychoice.
As far as Dunstan was concerned, she would do as well as any other for his wife. He had been thinking of setting up his household anyway. It was high time that he got himself an heir, and Marion was not too old to provide him with one. In some areas, most notably in the bedchamber, she would do even better than most. By faith, after sampling the passion that flared between them, Dunstan knew he would never be satisfied with anyone else.
She would suit him admirably, especially when she was installed at Wessex. Then he would no longer be bound to her day and night, but could go about his own business without her vexing interference, and return home to her heated embrace. Dunstan knew he would gladly look forward to such a routine, if he could only put up with the foolishness that she exhibited other times, such as now….
Dunstan clenched his jaw. Her reluctance to marry him made him feel oddly vulnerable, something distasteful in the extreme to a battle-hardened warrior. That left him bitter enough, but to make matters worse, she had tried to escape again! Dunstan’s rage surged back at what seemed to him a betrayal, especially after the way she had come to him last night, all sweet and hot and eager.
By faith, he would never understand her! One minute she was staring at him, those huge eyes filled with adoration, and the next she had the look of a wounded fawn, her lip trembling as if he had beaten her! And in the interim, he had done nothing! Grunting, Dunstan rubbed the back of his neck, sorely aggrieved.
