burden of maintaining England’s northernmost defenses, one that was costly in the extreme.
On the one hand, Stephen’s marriage to Adele Beaufort would make Northumberland dangerously independent, something the King could not be pleased about. But the King was desperate for revenue himself, determined as he was to wage his own wars against his older brother Robert in order to reunite Normandy with England. The King did not need the additional expense of subsidizing Northumberland in its wars with Scotland. So he allowed this match between the two powerful houses of Essex and Northumberland.
Stephen realized that his thoughts had generated a pulsating tension within him. It was his duty to keep the North secure, and for two long years he had walked a tightrope to maintaina fragile peace, responding to every incitement by the border reivers blow for blow, yet knowing he must not strike back so fully that he would shatter the reigning truce. It had been no easy task.
He was tired.
He looked forward to his marriage, for Adele’s dowry would ease the burden generated by constant warfare that was forever upon his back.
Brand’s warning words mocked him. Goddamn it, he was a deliberate man, neither impulsive or rash, but there had been nothing deliberate or careful about his decision to take the woman calling herself Mairi his prisoner. She had intrigued him with her beauty and her deceit, and he had abducted her. He had hoped to discover her to be of little value, so that he could take her to his bed. He still hoped, even while he doubted it.
No man in his position would jeopardize marriage to an heiress for another woman, no matter how desirable she might be. And he had no intention of doing so. A brief liaison, if he was fortunate enough to have it come to that, did not jeopardize his alliance with the Beauforts. But she could not remain in his chamber. In sending her there, he had again acted rashly, for it was a dangerous breach of etiquette. Adele Beaufort would be justifiably furious should she learn he kept a woman in his room. As soon as their next confrontation was waged, he would remove her from his bedchamber.
His jaw clenched. And he would solve the mystery she presented. When faced with imminent ruin, he had not a doubt that she would confess her deception. She would confess her deception, revealing herself to be a highborn lady, and he would send her upon her way, no worse for wear, as he had sworn to do. Stephen could not imagine letting her go without bedding her, but if she revealed herself to be highborn, he would. And in three months, he would wed the Essex heiress.
There was no pleasure in the thought. Not anymore.
Stephen was irritated to find that once again Mairi had disobeyed him; she was not awaiting him in his chamberas he had told her to do. He stripped down to his braies, the heavy muscles in his back rippling, his arms thick with sinew, every tendon defined, his biceps bulging with each slight movement, his stomach flat and rock-hard. His was a knight’s well-used body, one honed by years of practice with sword and lance, and years of combat.
Stephen was more than annoyed. He was disturbed by his moment of self-doubt, and perplexed by the confusion he had suddenly felt in regard to his marriage to Adele Beaufort. How could his prisoner, beauty or not, raise such alien emotions in him?
He was angry. It was safer to be angry with her. Already his blood boiled, and she had yet to enter the chamber. For the first time, Stephen wondered if he could exert the self-control necessary to deny himself her body, which he must do once she unmasked herself. He reminded himself that he had no choice.
His sister entered without knocking. Her rude interruption into such disturbing thoughts was welcome, although he was not pleased that she should glimpse him in his state of undress. “Knock, Isobel,” he warned, turning away from her and shrugging on his undertunic. She was a very precocious
On the one hand, Stephen’s marriage to Adele Beaufort would make Northumberland dangerously independent, something the King could not be pleased about. But the King was desperate for revenue himself, determined as he was to wage his own wars against his older brother Robert in order to reunite Normandy with England. The King did not need the additional expense of subsidizing Northumberland in its wars with Scotland. So he allowed this match between the two powerful houses of Essex and Northumberland.
Stephen realized that his thoughts had generated a pulsating tension within him. It was his duty to keep the North secure, and for two long years he had walked a tightrope to maintaina fragile peace, responding to every incitement by the border reivers blow for blow, yet knowing he must not strike back so fully that he would shatter the reigning truce. It had been no easy task.
He was tired.
He looked forward to his marriage, for Adele’s dowry would ease the burden generated by constant warfare that was forever upon his back.
Brand’s warning words mocked him. Goddamn it, he was a deliberate man, neither impulsive or rash, but there had been nothing deliberate or careful about his decision to take the woman calling herself Mairi his prisoner. She had intrigued him with her beauty and her deceit, and he had abducted her. He had hoped to discover her to be of little value, so that he could take her to his bed. He still hoped, even while he doubted it.
No man in his position would jeopardize marriage to an heiress for another woman, no matter how desirable she might be. And he had no intention of doing so. A brief liaison, if he was fortunate enough to have it come to that, did not jeopardize his alliance with the Beauforts. But she could not remain in his chamber. In sending her there, he had again acted rashly, for it was a dangerous breach of etiquette. Adele Beaufort would be justifiably furious should she learn he kept a woman in his room. As soon as their next confrontation was waged, he would remove her from his bedchamber.
His jaw clenched. And he would solve the mystery she presented. When faced with imminent ruin, he had not a doubt that she would confess her deception. She would confess her deception, revealing herself to be a highborn lady, and he would send her upon her way, no worse for wear, as he had sworn to do. Stephen could not imagine letting her go without bedding her, but if she revealed herself to be highborn, he would. And in three months, he would wed the Essex heiress.
There was no pleasure in the thought. Not anymore.
Stephen was irritated to find that once again Mairi had disobeyed him; she was not awaiting him in his chamberas he had told her to do. He stripped down to his braies, the heavy muscles in his back rippling, his arms thick with sinew, every tendon defined, his biceps bulging with each slight movement, his stomach flat and rock-hard. His was a knight’s well-used body, one honed by years of practice with sword and lance, and years of combat.
Stephen was more than annoyed. He was disturbed by his moment of self-doubt, and perplexed by the confusion he had suddenly felt in regard to his marriage to Adele Beaufort. How could his prisoner, beauty or not, raise such alien emotions in him?
He was angry. It was safer to be angry with her. Already his blood boiled, and she had yet to enter the chamber. For the first time, Stephen wondered if he could exert the self-control necessary to deny himself her body, which he must do once she unmasked herself. He reminded himself that he had no choice.
His sister entered without knocking. Her rude interruption into such disturbing thoughts was welcome, although he was not pleased that she should glimpse him in his state of undress. “Knock, Isobel,” he warned, turning away from her and shrugging on his undertunic. She was a very precocious
Similar Books
