Читать книгу Falcon's Love - Denise Lynn, Denise Lynn - Страница 12

Marguerite heard the horse’s whinny. With her heart in her throat and a silent prayer on her tongue, she looked up at the men. Her first impulse was to swoon, her next to run. But where would she go? She and Marcus were out in the open on foot. Darius would catch them long before they made it to the cover of the forest.

Osbert’s curse rasped against her ears. She cringed and tightened her arms around Marcus.

Too soon. Darius had discovered her absence too soon. Just a few more precious moments and she’d have taken Marcus back to Hawise and John in the village.

Surrounded by Hawise’s six raven-haired children, the boy would have been safe, hidden in the open, Faucon none the wiser.

What would he do now? She studied Darius intently. At first he’d appeared to be shocked. His complexion had paled, his eyes had widened.

Now, as he held her steady gaze on his approach, he narrowed his eyes. When he was close enough, she could see the unsteady tic in his cheek.

As he drew nearer, his attention shifted to Marcus. Marguerite could not help but wonder at his thoughts as his gold-flecked hazel eyes met the gold-flecked hazel eyes of her son—their son.

Oh, dear Lord, she’d sworn not to break this vow to Thornson. Her entire adult life had been built on a lie of her husband’s making. And she’d never once objected.

How could she object, when keeping the lie meant security, safety and love?

The men stopped their horses little more than an arm’s length in front of her and Marcus.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

Osbert’s near whisper mirrored Marguerite’s thoughts. In the end, her lie most likely would damn her. Merciful Lord, let it not condemn Marcus to damnation, too.

Marcus tipped his head and looked up at Osbert. “Do you not know that swearing is a sin?”

“Is it, now?” Osbert acted surprised. “Thank you for making me aware of that, Master…what is your name?”

The boy lifted his chin a notch more. “Marcus. I am Marcus of Thornson.”

Osbert slid down from his horse. He studied the boy from head to toe, then a broad smile lit his face.

His easy recognition only strengthened Marguerite’s resolve to keep anyone else from seeing Marcus and Darius together.

Osbert squatted to Marcus’s level. “Well, Master Marcus, I am honored to meet you.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Sir Osbert of Faucon. And how many years are you, Marcus?”

The boy held up all the fingers on one hand, while looking at Osbert’s horse. “Is that your horse?”

“Why, yes, it is.”

“He is big.”

“Not that big.” Osbert straightened and snapped his fingers. “Why, I bet a fine young man like yourself could sit atop him with no trouble at all.”

Marcus twisted against Marguerite’s hold and looked up at her, his eyes alight with anticipation. Marguerite sucked in a shallow breath before pleading, “Osbert, do not harm him.”

Osbert jerked upright as if he’d been struck. “You know me better than that, my lady.”

She pulled her son tighter against her.

Marcus struggled briefly against her hold. “Mama?” He stared up at her, fear replacing the anticipation.

“Do not frighten him.” Darius leaned forward. “It is unnecessary.”

Frighten him? Nay, Marcus had no cause to be afraid. It was her own fear that held her back. If she let him go with Osbert, would she ever see her son again? Marguerite shook her head.

“No. I cannot let you take him.”

“Take him?” Osbert’s dismay was evident in his voice. “I only offer to let him ride my horse, that is all.” He looked at Darius. “My lord?”

Darius dismounted, wrapped his reins around a wooden cross and held Marguerite’s stare. “We need to talk. Let the boy go with Osbert.” When she made no move to release her son, he added, “Do not make me force this issue.”

He was right. They did need to talk. Marguerite took her arms from around her son and ran her fingers through his long black waves before releasing him completely.

Darius looked down at Marcus, then motioned toward Osbert. “Go for a ride. Sir Osbert will see that you are safe.”

Marcus dashed to Osbert’s side, obviously eager to get atop the horse. The captain swung the boy up into the saddle and walked alongside, one hand on the boy’s waist and the other with a firm grip on the horse’s rein.

Marguerite and Darius stared at each other in silence. Darius wondered if the thoughts and emotions running through her mind and body were as confused as his own.

Osbert and Marcus completed two circles around them, and when they came by Darius the second time, Osbert cleared his throat. “Obviously the two of you would like to be alone to share this moment of total silence together. Master Marcus and I will be over in the field teaching this horse a thing or two.”

Marguerite wiped at her tears and turned away.

Darius stepped forward and pulled her hard against his chest. Countless words rushed to his throat. He swallowed, trying to decide what to say, what to ask first.

Finally, he choked out, “What have you done?”

She shook against him, her sobs muffling her voice. He cradled her head against his chest.

“Marguerite, crying will not help.”

When she heaved a sigh and regained control of herself, he asked again, “What have you done?”

She remained in his arms, speaking into his chest, “I thought only to protect my son.”

“Your son? I am fairly certain you did not create him alone. I do not think anyone could deny who fathered him.”

“Thornson is his father.”

“Why do you lie? Thornson is dead. And that boy is Faucon through and through.”

She stiffened against his chest. “He is Thornson’s son.” Her voice rose with each word. “He is Marcus of Thornson.”

“Shh. Hush, Marguerite.” Darius ran a hand down her back, seeking to calm the hysteria apparent in her voice.

Odd, now that he should be angry with her and at all that she had taken from him, Darius’s main thought was that she did not feel threatened. He rested his chin on her head and gently swayed from side to side.

“Why did you seek to hide him?”

“I promised Henry that I would keep our son safe.”

“He was safe at Thornson, was he not?”

“Until you came, yes.”

“Marguerite, what did you think I would do to a child? Is your opinion of me so low that you would believe me capable of harming a child?”

Her head shook beneath his chin. “No.”

“Then why hide him?”

She shrugged. “I was afraid…I thought that…” She sucked in a big breath of air. “I thought that if people saw you and Marcus together that they would think…they would assume…” She paused and buried her face in the folds of his tunic. “They would know he was yours.”

Darius closed his eyes. The pain behind her words tore at his heart. “And why would that be so bad, Marguerite?”

“I promised Henry to never let anyone know the truth. In exchange, he raised Marcus as his own and made sure both of us wanted for nothing.”

“So, he knew?”

“Of course he knew. I was not a virgin on that wedding night. I was already carrying your child.”

“From our wedding night.”

“Yes. Henry protected my child and my honor.”

“And in exchange he gained a son he could no longer conceive on his own. My son.”

She pushed him away. “It was not as if he stole him from you.”

“Heavens, no. He could not steal what I did not know I had. How clever of him.”

“Clever? You talk as if he devised some great plan for his benefit.”

“Did he not? You think Thornson held your honor and well-being above his desires?”

“Desires?” Marguerite fisted her hands at her sides. Her face flamed with anger in the midday sun. “Desires? What desires? What evil plots do you lay at a dead man’s feet?”

Before he finished his missions and returned to Faucon, he’d lay a great many evil plots at Thornson’s feet, but this was not of that caliber. “I did not say his planning was evil, only clever.”

“Clever, how?”

“Please, Marguerite. Do not seek to convince me you have become blind or addled. Tell me the people of Thornson did not look upon your elderly husband in a different light once your condition was known.”

“Different?” Her forehead creased while she searched for an answer. “No. I do not think they did.”