Mary pushed her hood back, filled with despair. “Stephen, it was my idea.”
Stephen either ignored her or did not hear her. He addressed the prince again. “You bring her here when you know how I feel about her?”
“She has the most urgent need to see you,” Henry remarked dryly.
Stephen advanced. Fury tightened his features. “I left you at Tetly, madame, for a reason. Surely you cannot have forgotten why?” He had raised his voice. It thundered.
Mary managed to stand her ground. “Enough is enough, Stephen,” she said. She blinked back tears. “Could we have a private word, please?”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Stephen said coldly. “You are returning to Tetly at once. This minute, in fact, is not soon enough.”
“No,” Mary whispered desperately.
“Stephen, you had better hear what she has to say,” Henry said calmly, though there was no mistaking the command in his voice.
Stephen wheeled, facing his friend, furious with him as well, but he visibly controlled his anger. Then, abruptly, he grabbed Mary’s arm. He made no effort to be gentle, and his grip hurt. Mary cried out. Stephen half-dragged her to the stairs.
“Have a care with her, Stephen,” Henry said sharply.
Stephen did not pause, but his hold eased. Nevertheless, he did not release her, propelling her quickly up the short flight of stairs and into the first chamber on the floor. He slammed the door shut behind them.
Nervously Mary backed away from him.
“Your tears do not move me,” Stephen said. Mary wiped her eyes. “Will you never forgive me?”
“No.”
Mary sobbed plaintively, sorrowfully. She flung off her cloak. “Damn you,” she whispered.
“You are getting fat,” Stephen said harshly.
Mary blinked at him and molded her gown to her belly with her hands. In case he might still be in doubt, she turned sideways. Stephen stared.
“Do not ask. If you dare to ask, I will kill you. The babe is yours. I have lain with no other man, and I never will,” Mary cried.
Stephen did not move, did not speak. He did not seem capable of either speech or movement. He stared in shock at the profile of her protruding belly.
Finally Mary dropped her hands and took a step over to the bed. She sank down on it in exhaustion. “Twill come, I think, in July.”
Stephen recovered. His voice was strangely hoarse, though, when he spoke. “That means you conceived soon after we met Before we were wed. And you have known this entire time.”
She looked at him directly. She would not let him cow her, not anymore. “I guessed immediately, as immediately as possible for a woman whose monthly times were never precise. I wanted to tell you before the war. I was saving the news for a special time.” Tears clouded her vision. “I wanted to bring you this news as a gift of love in a moment of love. Foolish me!”
“And still you did not tell me at Dunfermline,” Stephen said, pale now. They both remembered how he had hit her and knocked her down in the abbey in rage.
“I knew you would delight in finding another reason to fault me, to accuse me of disloyalty. I did not tell you. You made it clear that you would send me away to have the child—I could not accept that.”
“And when, pray tell, were you going to tell me?” His tone had become dangerous.
“When you came to Tetly to visit me, as you promised.” Mary looked at him, her eyes huge and hurt. “But you never came.”
Stephen stared back at her.
Mary clenched her fists, long-hidden anger spilling forth. “Have you been well amused here at Court, my lord? Is the reason you did not come to me because you are enamored of another woman? Your latest lover, perhaps?”
“Your questions are impertinent,” Stephen said softly.
Mary blinked back more tears. “Sometimes,” she whispered, “I hate you. And it is a relief.”
