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Authors: Brenda Joyce
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ten, and even more astute. He was afraid that one day she would discover him in some pursuit not fit for any lady’s eyes, much less such a young one.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Why?”
Stephen bit back his smile. He had yet to see Isobel since his return. She had been up to some mischief in the bailey, no doubt, for she was inclined towards perpetual trouble-making. “Because ’tis polite.” He tried to scowl. “What greeting is this?”
She beamed and ran into his arms. He held her briefly and set her down, unable to restrain a rush of pride. She was everyone’s darting, certainly his. His little sister was a clever thing, already too gorgeous and not yet betrothed. Stephen knew Rolfe was biding his time, but soon he would find her a husband and make another powerful alliance for the de Warennes. Stephen thought, but was not sure, that their father intended to wed her to the King’s younger brother, Henry Beauclerc. The prince had little land but much silver, for his father, the Conqueror, had given Normandy to hisoldest son, Robert, and England to William Rufus, leaving his youngest son only great wealth. Stephen knew him well from the long years he had fostered in the Conqueror’s household, still he was not sure he approved of the match.
He gazed at her with affection. “Where have you been this evening?”
“Oh, around,” she said mysteriously, but her smile was quick and angelic. “Why should I knock? You’re alone. I listened at the door to make certain.”
His eyes went wide. She stepped back, giggling. “I’m not a baby anymore, Steph,” she said haughtily. She was the only one who dared bastardize his name. “I know what you do at night with the maids.”
He could not believe it. He didn’t know whether to laugh at her or scold her. “Just what
is
it you think I do with the maids, wench?”
She gave him a knowing look. “Father says if there is one more bastard born on Alnwick, he’s taking a whip to you as if you were a boy of twelve!” She was gleeful.
“Oh, he does,” he managed, choking on laughter and despair. “You still haven’t answered my question, Isobel.”
“Do I seem stupid? You make babies, Steph, and the maids like it, I know, for I’ve heard them talking about you.”
This time he went still. “You’ve heard them talking …” He sputtered. “And what, pray tell, Big Ears, do they say?”
“Well—” she rolled her dark blue eyes “—they say ’tis big and strong and very randy … but sometimes quick, too quick … and sometimes—”
Stephen was scandalized. “Enough!” He pounced on her, but she dodged him with a laugh. “I hope you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he growled. “And I intend to tell Mother that you are eavesdropping—on the servants, no less!”
Isobel looked hurt, well and truly hurt. “Mother will send me to Father Bertold,” she quavered. Her large, luminous eyes held his, as soft and innocent as a fawn’s. “I promise not to listen anymore, really I do. Don’t tell Mother.”
He sighed, exasperated. She was a handful, had always been a handful, and one day would undoubtedly rule herhusband with no contest. “I won’t tell this time,” he said. “But, Isobel, don’t test me.”
She bit her lip, serious now. They both knew she could only manipulate him so far. “Why is Mairi a prisoner?”
“Ah. So you’ve met the mysterious Mairi. I prefer to think of her as my guest.”
“She says she is your prisoner—and that you must release her at once.”
“Did she send you to me with such a message, Isobel?”
“I only know what she told me.” Isobel was wide-eyed and expectant.
Stephen was very exasperated with his guest again. Did she think to maneuver him through his sister? Could she be so shrewd? “Where is she?”
“In the women’s solar. Why have you frightened her so?”
“Your curiosity into the affairs of others will one day be your downfall, Isobel. If you are wise, you
She stuck her tongue out at him. “Why?”
Stephen bit back his smile. He had yet to see Isobel since his return. She had been up to some mischief in the bailey, no doubt, for she was inclined towards perpetual trouble-making. “Because ’tis polite.” He tried to scowl. “What greeting is this?”
She beamed and ran into his arms. He held her briefly and set her down, unable to restrain a rush of pride. She was everyone’s darting, certainly his. His little sister was a clever thing, already too gorgeous and not yet betrothed. Stephen knew Rolfe was biding his time, but soon he would find her a husband and make another powerful alliance for the de Warennes. Stephen thought, but was not sure, that their father intended to wed her to the King’s younger brother, Henry Beauclerc. The prince had little land but much silver, for his father, the Conqueror, had given Normandy to hisoldest son, Robert, and England to William Rufus, leaving his youngest son only great wealth. Stephen knew him well from the long years he had fostered in the Conqueror’s household, still he was not sure he approved of the match.
He gazed at her with affection. “Where have you been this evening?”
“Oh, around,” she said mysteriously, but her smile was quick and angelic. “Why should I knock? You’re alone. I listened at the door to make certain.”
His eyes went wide. She stepped back, giggling. “I’m not a baby anymore, Steph,” she said haughtily. She was the only one who dared bastardize his name. “I know what you do at night with the maids.”
He could not believe it. He didn’t know whether to laugh at her or scold her. “Just what
is
it you think I do with the maids, wench?”
She gave him a knowing look. “Father says if there is one more bastard born on Alnwick, he’s taking a whip to you as if you were a boy of twelve!” She was gleeful.
“Oh, he does,” he managed, choking on laughter and despair. “You still haven’t answered my question, Isobel.”
“Do I seem stupid? You make babies, Steph, and the maids like it, I know, for I’ve heard them talking about you.”
This time he went still. “You’ve heard them talking …” He sputtered. “And what, pray tell, Big Ears, do they say?”
“Well—” she rolled her dark blue eyes “—they say ’tis big and strong and very randy … but sometimes quick, too quick … and sometimes—”
Stephen was scandalized. “Enough!” He pounced on her, but she dodged him with a laugh. “I hope you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he growled. “And I intend to tell Mother that you are eavesdropping—on the servants, no less!”
Isobel looked hurt, well and truly hurt. “Mother will send me to Father Bertold,” she quavered. Her large, luminous eyes held his, as soft and innocent as a fawn’s. “I promise not to listen anymore, really I do. Don’t tell Mother.”
He sighed, exasperated. She was a handful, had always been a handful, and one day would undoubtedly rule herhusband with no contest. “I won’t tell this time,” he said. “But, Isobel, don’t test me.”
She bit her lip, serious now. They both knew she could only manipulate him so far. “Why is Mairi a prisoner?”
“Ah. So you’ve met the mysterious Mairi. I prefer to think of her as my guest.”
“She says she is your prisoner—and that you must release her at once.”
“Did she send you to me with such a message, Isobel?”
“I only know what she told me.” Isobel was wide-eyed and expectant.
Stephen was very exasperated with his guest again. Did she think to maneuver him through his sister? Could she be so shrewd? “Where is she?”
“In the women’s solar. Why have you frightened her so?”
“Your curiosity into the affairs of others will one day be your downfall, Isobel. If you are wise, you
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