“Now, Marion…” Geoffrey began, trying to forestall an argument.
She heeded him not. She simply leaned her head back to stare up at the giant of a man looming over her. “Let Simon go, Dunstan, for ‘tis time for you to tend to Wessex.”
“And what iswrongwith Wessex?” Dunstan asked. “Why must I stay here?” Six pairs of de Burgh eyes met anxiously, while the brothers wondered if their little Marion was going to assault the huge knight in front of her, or if the Wolf was going to erupt in rage. Nicholas and Robin scooted back, wary of the look on the face of the eldest de Burgh, while Geoffrey and Simon moved closer, determined to protect the woman who had become a sister to them.
“You must stay here becauseIam here,” Marion announced boldly. “And so is your heir.” She put a dainty hand to her stomach, and stared, unflinching, up at her fierce husband.
Growling suddenly, Dunstan grabbed his wife by the shoulders, plunging the hall into anxious silence. Then Marion threw her arms around his neck, and in front of all the de Burghs, the two shared a kiss that threatened to consume them both.
The stunned brothers were shaken from their gaping by the sound of Campion’s soft voice offering congratulations. Then the room erupted with the movement of the brothers, their dark heads bobbing in agreement, their deep bellows and shouts of praise ringing in the hall.
Through the press of tall, muscular bodies, Marion’s eyes met Campion’s, and she saw him rub his chin thoughtfully. “It seems I was wrong,” he remarked.
“Wrong? About what?” she asked curiously.
“I thought that you must have tamed the Wolf, but to my mind, ‘tis the other way around.”
The earl had everyone’s attention now, and Nicholas, casting a puzzled look at Dunstan and his wife, asked, “How so?”
“‘Tis plain that Dunstan has imbued our gentle, little Marion with some of the fierce, unrestrained spirit that earned him his name,” Campion answered, with a smile. “She makes a fitting wife for the Wolf.”
* * *
Marion thought her heart would surely burst with happiness at the sight of the familiar tall towers rising regally into the white winter sky. Although she had come to love Wessex, Campion would always be home to her, too, for it was the first place that she had come into her own—and it was a shining example of the strength of family bonds and affection.
That notion had been a little hard to explain to her husband, who, having grown up in the luxurious castle, was unimpressed by it, and, having been surrounded by his brothers for months, was not exactly pining to see them. The Wolf, Marion had discovered, jealously guarded her love for him and for his holdings; he was not thrilled by her feelings for the rest of the de Burghs and their residence. But all of the earl’s sons were returning to the fold for Christmas, and Marion wanted to be there, too.
It had taken her a week to convince her husband.
The Wolf had complained that he hated traveling, that he had seen his family more this year than during the past three combined and that he did not want to endanger the child his wife carried.
Marion had argued that Campion was only a couple of days’ ride away, that she was but a few months pregnant and that it would be ill-mannered to refuse an invitation from the earl. When she sensed her husband weakening, Marion begged the journey as her gift, and, finally, after much grumbling and growling, Dunstan had acceded to her wishes.
Now, cozily settled by the fire in the solar, Marion knew a bone-deep satisfaction in his capitulation. Resting a hand upon her slightly rounded stomach, she let her eyes roam the room, lighting lovingly on the men she had come to view as brothers.
They were all here, the six of them, plus her husband. Even Simon had returned from Baddersly, where he had taken control of Marion’s holdings for Dunstan. Having rid the castle of Peasely’s corrupt associates, he had chosen a new steward, reorganized the defenses and had come back eager for more challenges. Although Marion knew a sister’s pride in his deeds, she worried that his need to prove himself exceeded even his elder brother’s and would someday put him in danger.
Of course, she fretted about them all, with the exception of Geoffrey, perhaps. Marion could not imagine the most scholarly de Burgh seeking out the pursuits of war. And yet she was concerned for Geoffrey, too, wishing that he might find himself a wife, for sometimes she caught a wistful yearning in his gaze that could not be satisfied by books or arms or anything to be found at Campion.
The youngest and most energetic de Burgh roamed the room like a smaller version of the Wolf, until he came to sit at Marion’s feet. Despite her protests, he pushed a stool under them, and Robin insisted on fetching her a cushion while she tried to hide her amusement. The rough, gruff de Burghs were treating the mother of the future heir as if she were a fragile flower, and although Marion knew better, she let them.
Her pregnancy had been easy thus far, with only a voracious appetite and a tendency to become weepy to mark its passing. But then, Dunstan pampered her far more than even his brothers would dream of doing, scowling ferociously if she lifted a finger at Wessex. Smiling her own secret smile at his regard, Marion scooted closer to the fire, unaware he was watching her until he moved to her side and settled his great bulk next to her. She curled into him, warmed more by the heat of his body than by any blaze, and snuggled beneath the proprietary arm he placed around her shoulder.
Whether in deference to Marion’s condition or the Christmas celebration, the brothers were not quarreling as much or as loudly as usual, and even Stephen had tempered his taunts. All in all, the solar at Campion was a perfect scene of domestic tranquillity—except for the glaring absence of the earl himself.
They were all waiting for Campion, who had called them to the solar after receiving a message from the king. Although the situation reminded her far too strongly of that day in early summer when she had been ousted from the castle, Marion told herself that not all news from the king was bad. Even the order to send her back to Baddersly had proved, in the end, to be a blessing, for how else could she have married the Wolf?
As if sensing her thoughts, Dunstan slid his great palm over her belly in a possessive gesture that acknowledged the son—or daughter—nestled inside. She smiled up at him, and his lips curved ever so slightly in response, a smile that was not one, but that had the ability to touch her heart more deeply than anyone else’s giddy grin.
They could have been alone, but for the sudden hush in the room that drew their attention to Campion’s entrance. He stepped to the center of the solar with regal grace, and Marion tried to judge the tenor of the news from his expression, but it was, as usual, unreadable.
Nodding to his sons, the earl spoke without preamble, as was his wont. “The king has a task for one of you,” he said, and Marion saw some of the de Burghs sit up straighter, impatient for whatever battle lay ahead.
“‘Tis a great sacrifice, but I know that this time one of you may be counted upon to step forward,” Campion said. This time? Marion grew curious as to the king’s charge and listened intently as the earl continued.
“His will is that one of you marry in order to assure the proper dispensation of his lands and protection of its people.” Marion hid a smile as the brothers who had seemed so eager slumped back in their seats now, trying to disappear into the furnishings. What a hardened group of bachelors! Although she understood their reluctance, privately Marion thought she would enjoy having another woman in the family and other children to grow up kin to her own.
“I am sorry, my sons, but there is no way to escape the king’s decree,” Campion said, and Marion was surprised at the grim set of his features. His wise gaze held a hint of sadness that made it seem as if he were announcing a death sentence instead of a betrothal. “Since her father’s death has left her not only with a sizable property, but at the mercy of landless rogues who would seek to wed her against her will…”
