When Robin and Nicholas returned with the news that both Dunstan and Geoffrey had been sighted approaching the gates, Marion would have cried anew, this time with relief, but the anxious looks the brothers were exchanging made her swipe at her cheeks and try to smile. She followed them outside to see for herself, and hardly gave her husband a chance to dismount before she launched herself into his arms.
Apparently Dunstan and Geoffrey were well pleased with their doings, and Marion was soon tucked under the Wolf’s thick arm, while the rest of the de Burghs crowded around, pelting them with questions and congratulations. Marion resisted an urge to weep again in pure happiness.
The morning meal was a boisterous affair, for all were relieved that Peasely and his men no longer posed a threat. After the food was cleared away, the brothers lingered, to decide what next needed to be done. Although no one expected any problems with Marion’s inheritance, the king would have to be informed of Peasely’s death, and, of course, Baddersly would have to be taken in hand. They had just begun discussing Marion’s holdings when one of the guards reported that Simon had been sighted.
Pandemonium broke out again, and the din of de Burgh voices did not fade until Simon was also seated at the table, ready to present his report to Dunstan. Marion studied him closely, with an anxious eye for his well-being, but Simon seemed none the worse for his mission. Indeed, he seemed stronger and more confident and more mature than ever, and Marion felt a sister’s own pride in him.
When they had all quieted, Simon told them that he was met at Fitzhugh’s primary manor by the steward, who did not allow him inside, but assured him there would be no further unpleasantness. Looking a bit disappointed by the prospect of peace, Simon continued speaking in his own terse way. He told them that Walter Avery had fled to the manor from the battle at Wessex and had promptly taken Fitzhugh’s daughter to wife.
Dunstan’s low grunt told Marion that he was not pleased by that news. “I am surprised Walter did not cut you down at the gates. What treachery does he plan now?” Dunstan growled.
“None,” Simon answered grimly, “for he is dead.”
Glancing at her husband, Marion saw that he remained skeptical, but Simon nodded in assurance. “‘Tis true,” Simon said. “Fitzhugh’s daughter did not take well to her husband. On their wedding night she stabbed him to death…in their marriage bed.”
Marion gasped aloud, while the de Burghs uttered several foul oaths and muttered among themselves. “‘Tis one way to bloody the sheets,” Stephen quipped.
Dunstan snorted. “I trust them not. How can we be sure?”
“I am sure. They sent out the body to me,” Simon said. He cleared his throat. “She…she had ordered it left for the scavengers, but the steward gave it over to us. We buried him.”
Astounded by the tale, Marion was even more astonished to see all the huge, brave de Burgh knights shudder visibly at the doings of the Fitzhugh woman. Who was she?Whatwas she?
“Well,” Dunstan said, heaving a sigh. “It seems she has done our work for us—”
His words were interrupted by a new shout, announcing the arrival of Campion himself. The brothers surged to their feet as one, while Marion, too, rose to greet her husband’s father.
He entered the hall with his usual grace and dignity, tall and straight and drawing respect by his very demeanor. Seeming untouched by the events of the past few weeks, the earl was a steady source of intelligence and power, Marion thought. Would her Wolf ever be the same? She smiled, doubting it, for Dunstan did not have his father’s even temperament.
Glancing swiftly up at her husband, Marion admired his now familiar features. He had his own strength and majesty that made men look to him, too, and that proclaimed him a fit heir to the earl. Watching the play of emotions across his face at the sight of his father, Marion felt her love for Dunstan become a wellspring, showering over them and nurturing the child she carried.
Perhaps he would never possess Campion’s quiet wisdom, but Marion loved the Wolf just as he was—huge and handsome, gruff and tender, quick to rage and just as quick to burn with passion. She smiled her own secret smile to know that he returned her feelings.
Suddenly, everyone was talking at once, and Marion laughed with pleasure to see the way each son vied for Campion’s attention. They all had a tale to share, and she called for wine and ale so that the afternoon could be spent in the telling.
Like a good father, Campion listened to them all, giving each man his attention and his praise. He seemed most impressed by the way Marion had attacked her uncle, and he rubbed his chin in that thoughtful way of his until Marion had the impression he was looking right inside her.
“Now,” Dunstan said, when Campion had been informed of all their doings, “I must go to Baddersly to take control of Marion’s property and get an accounting—”
Marion cut him off with a gasp of protest. “No! I care not for anything from my old life.”
Dunstan snorted, and his brothers scoffed loudly, giving her several choice de Burgh looks that scorned her words as female foolishness. “Well, then,” Marion said more firmly, “send someone else. Simon would love to go, I am sure.”
A brief, telling expression of excitement passed over Simon’s face before Dunstan grunted angrily and said, “My brothers have done enough for me, Marion. ‘Tis time I took control of my affairs—”
“Then stay here,” Marion said.
Dunstan growled. “Do not interrupt me, wren!”
“Do not scold me, Dunstan!”
“I will not have you gainsay me, wife!”
“And I will not have you go to Baddersly!”
While all the de Burghs watched in fascination, Marion rose from her seat. Even standing, she was little higher than her seated husband, but that seemed not to matter to her. She planted her legs apart in a stance not unlike the Wolf’s and poked a tiny finger into his wide chest. “You are sick of traveling, and you know it!”
Dunstan surged to his feet, his face darkened with a fury that boded ill for his wife.
