“If you have not summoned him and if you do not know what this means,” Stephen said coldly, “I am sure that in no time you will. He awaits you in the hall, madame wife.”
Chapter 21
Stephen escorted her out of the kitchens and across the backyard to the keep. Mary had to run to keep up with his long, determined strides. He gripped her hand so she could not balk. There was no question that he was angry, that he thought the worst. “Stephen! Stop! Please!”
They paused at the back door, used only by servants to carry hot food quickly into the hall, face-to-face. Mary was desperate and unable to believe her misfortune—Edward’s timing could not have been worse. Why could he have not come next month or the month after, when Stephen was convinced of her innocence, or when, at least, the instance of her eavesdropping was so far in the past as to be nearly forgotten? Mary thought her hope was not ill-placed, for she believed that within another month or so, he would be close to capitulation; that they would be sharing more than just heated passion, that they would be sharing trust. “Do you not wish to greet your brother, madame?”
“No!” The word was out of Mary’s mouth before she even thought it in her mind. And the instant she had spoken, she knew she could refuse to see Edward, and by doing so, regain so much more of Stephen’s trust. She should refuse to see him. If she turned her back on her family, especially now, in such a blatant way, Stephen would have to accept the fact that her loyalty now belonged to him.
But she could not. Her very nature rebelled at the notion. She was innocent of treachery to begin with, she was being the best wife she could to her husband, and she did not want to cut her ties to her family, not now, not ever. She would not.
Too, Edward would have news of her family. After the battle of Carlisle, with so much renewed animosity between her family and Stephen’s, not to mention the sporadic acts of war that were still a daily occurrence, there had been no correspondence between her and Scotland.
“You do not wish to speak with Edward?” Stephen asked, his eyes narrowed.
Tears came to Mary’s eyes. A dark premonition swept her, that she would quickly come to rue this day. “No, I must speak with him.” Her voice was at once both fierce and broken.
His smile was broken, as well. He gestured. “After you, madame wife.”
His tone was mocking, bitter. Mary looked him in the eye. “Do not believe the worst. Please. My lord, I will not betray you.”
“We shall soon see, shall we not?” Stephen returned coolly.
Mary was angry then. How quick he was with his false assumptions! She hurried into the hall, ignoring him.
It was deserted, a rare event. Except for her brother, of course, who sat at the long trestle table, accompanied by Fergus, one of her father’s closest kinsmen. Mary’s heart gladdened despite her predicament. How she loved Edward, and it had been so long. She struggled free of her husband’s grasp and rushed across the large chamber into her oldest brother’s arms.
She cried a little as he embraced her. Edward loved her. From the time she could first walk, he had always been there to rescue her from her mischievous adventures, and after, he had always been there to defend her lack of restraint. He was not just her older brother and something of a hero, he was her dear, dear friend, a friend she had sorely missed, a friend she desperately needed. Finally Edward gave her over to Fergus for a gigantic bear hug. Mary wiped away her tears when the big redhead released her. Somehow she was both joyous and sad at the very same time.
“How you glow, little sister,” Edward said softly while smiling and appraising her. When he smiled he was one of the handsomest men that she knew. His teeth were very white, his skin very tanned, his hair so dark an auburn that sometimes it seemed black. “Marriage must agree with you.”
Mary almost laughed. A few days ago she would have agreed wholeheartedly. Then she realized that Stephen stood behind her, silently listening, silently observing. Her smile became determined. “I am not sorry to be wed.” That was the truth. She hoped Stephen understood.
The look Stephen gave her was decidedly hostile. Mary almost backed away from him. He gave her a mocking smile. “Enjoy your visitors, madame. As you undoubtedly wish a private moment, I shall leave you to see to my own affairs.”
Stephen was walking away. Mary forgot about her brother, racing after him. “Wait! My lord!” She caught up to him. “Stephen, what are you doing? Why would you leave me alone with Ed? Why do you not stay with us?” She spoke in a low, rapid whisper.
“Do you not trust yourself, Mary?”
She winced. “You think to test me?”
“I think to let you hang yourself,” he said, and then he strode past her with the force of a whirlwind. The heavy front door of the keep thudded closed behind him.
Mary trembled. Dear God, Stephen did not trust her at all, and had he not just told her why he had left her alone, she would think him mad. But he was not mad. For instead of sitting with her and her brother, not giving her a chance to play at treachery, he was coldly and deliberately allowing her the privacy to scheme against him if she willed.
“He does not appear very pleased by my visit,” Edward sighed. “He appeared murderous while we were embracing. Unfortunately, I do not think it was because of misbegotten jealousy.”
“No, he is most definitely not jealous of you, Ed,” Mary managed.
“Are you all right, Mary?” Edward asked while Fergus scowled.
“A’ course she is na all right,” Fergus said roughly in his thick brogue. “She’s married to the Devil himself, an’ hateful he is, too. We should take the lassie home wi’ us, Ed.”
“No!” Mary cried, genuinely shocked by the idea. “He is not so bad, Fergus, really.” She took a calming breath. “I am just surprised that he would leave us alone.” But her surprise was wearing off. Did he think to trick her into revealing herself? For it occurred to her that he would never leave her alone to scheme against him—he must have spies about. And—her heart quickened—as that was not her intention, his spies would have nothing to report.
“Mary?” Edward took her arm. “Are you really not sorry to be wed to him?” His voice was low, so that any spies might not hear him. Edward was also astute.
“No, Ed, I am not sorry to be Stephen’s wife.” She spoke normally. Let the spies hear me now, she thought with sudden satisfaction. “But it has not been easy. You see, I have been trying so hard to win my husband’s trust. He has accused me of treachery, for he caught me spying upon him.”
