“Perhaps,” Simon said with a brief nod, “but now we are in a precarious position, with only a small force to protect Wessex. Although I would gladly go after this Avery, I have no idea what might await at Fitzhugh’s holding. Frankly, I think we have too few men to make any showing of ourselves.” Simon paced the room in front of the bed. “With your permission, I would return to Campion and hand-pick some others to fill the ranks. I know Father will insist upon giving you men.”
Dunstan was dubious. “Are you sure?”
Whipping around swiftly, Simon shot him a look that questioned his sense. “Of course! Campion has men to spare, as you should remember.”
Of course. Dunstan smiled grimly. Perhaps Marion had been right and if he had swallowed his pride and simply asked, he would have had help long before now. He nodded and put his trencher aside. “You take care of it, Simon,” he said. Suddenly weary, Dunstan closed his eyes and missed his brother’s startled look of pleasure at the charge.
Eager for the blessed comfort of sleep in his own bed, Dunstan relaxed against the pillows. He heard the movements of his brothers as they headed toward the door, then suddenly he opened his eyes wide, shocked to have momentarily forgotten something so vital.
“And bring Marion back with you,” he said tersely.
* * *
In a few days, Dunstan was back to his old self, the healing wound on his chest the only reminder of his ordeal. His aches were gone, his belly full of food and drink, and he was whole again but for one minor thing. His wife was still gone.
Dunstan did not feel quite…complete without her. He swung between irritation at the odd sensation of need and exaltation at the thought of her return. It was ridiculous, but he wanted her here beside him. Now.
During their long, forced time together, Dunstan had grown accustomed to her presence, and he would have it back. It was as simple as that. He missed that smile of hers with its dimples peeping out brazenly. He missed her graceful movements, her silly patter and the air of innocence that clung to her, despite her hot passions. He missed the way she argued with him, poking her tiny finger into his great chest when she was particularly riled.
And he missed the way she fussed over him, full of worry for him. Dunstan paused to savor that memory. He liked being the subject of her concern. He especially liked it when she turned those huge eyes on him and they shone with an inner brilliance, just as if she adored him….
Of course, she did not. All that nonsense about loving him Dunstan knew as so much fiddle-faddle, and yet if she wanted to believe herself enamored of him, who was he to argue? He enjoyed being the object of her affections—theonlyobject of her affections.
Dunstan scowled. He found he did not like the thought of Marion surrounded by his brothers here at Wessex. Would her doe eyes look upon them with the same sweetness? Dunstan resisted an urge to slam his fist into the table in front of him. He would not care for that at all.
Marion washis,by law, by right and by possession. He tried not to think of her back at Campion, greeting Simon, the returning hero. He tried not to think of her giving his brothers the gift of her smile and receiving their proprietary glances. He tried not to think of her at all.
He cursed loudly.
“What is it, Dunstan?” Geoffrey asked, looking up from the papers spread before him. They sat at the table in the great hall, while Geoffrey went over Dunstan’s accounts with an eye both to reduce expenses and increase income.
“Nothing,” Dunstan muttered. “I look for Simon’s return, ‘tis all.”
Geoffrey smiled. It was not the first time Dunstan had suddenly burst out with an oath for no good reason. Something, or rather someone, was preying on the Wolf’s mind. Geoffrey leaned back, twirled the quill in his hand and wondered if Dunstan would bring up the topic of Marion again.
Although Dunstan had mentioned his wife several times, as if he could not help himself, he had been hesitant to discuss her, leaving Geoffrey mightily curious. Geoff never would have thought Dunstan, the toughest loner of all the de Burghs, would be struck by Cupid’s arrow, and yet the Wolf showed indisputable signs of being smitten by dear little Marion.
Having heard Marion claim the marriage was not her idea, Geoffrey was interested to see how the couple would deal together. Although she had pleaded Dunstan’s case to his family in a heart-wrenching manner, that did not mean Marion loved him. Yet Geoffrey suspected that Dunstan was very much in love with her. It was an intriguing puzzle, and Geoffrey had seen enough of his eldest brother’s stubborn arrogance over the years to admit he was going to enjoy watching Dunstan squirm.
“What is it like, being married?” Geoffrey asked, tongue firmly in cheek.
“‘Tis sorely aggrieving!” Dunstan answered, rubbing the back of his neck.
Geoffrey smiled. “That bad?”
As if suddenly aware of what he had said, Dunstan scowled. “I would have her here, that is all. ‘Tis where she belongs. She is mine,” Dunstan said, adding a threatening look to cap off his words.
“Ho, brother. No need to take that fierce tone with me,” Geoffrey said. “We all came to care for Marion as a sister, but none of us desired to marry her. Remember?”
Dunstan’s eyes narrowed, and Geoffrey realized that now might not have been the time to remind Dunstan that his siblings had rejected the hand of his wife. “Yes, I remember,” Dunstan growled. “Why? Why would no one have her?”
Oh-oh. Now the Wolf was insulted. Although Dunstan had warmed considerably toward his brothers, he was still not a man to rile. Geoffrey paused to choose his words very carefully, then he simply shrugged and stated the obvious. “None of us were in love with her.”
Dunstan snorted. “Love! You spout the same prattle as Marion. ‘Tis all foolishness.”
Oh. Geoffrey drew in a deep breath. Not only was the Wolf in love, but he refused to believe it. And, obviously, he and Marion had already had words on the subject. Unwilling to be drawn into an endless argument, Geoffrey asked his brother baldly, “Why didyoumarry her?”
Dunstan leaned back in his chair with a smug look, as if the answer was obvious. “‘Twas for the best, to protect her from her uncle.”
