glances at him. Since he was seated far away at the high table and surrounded by his men, all she could see was a pair of broad shoulders and a mane of dark hair, but it was enough...or too much, depending upon one’s outlook, Marion thought gloomily.
She had often longed to meet Campion’s heir, but now that he was here, she found herself wishing for his speedy departure. She was too old to begin harboring the girlish fancies that his appearance seemed to inspire. Sometimes she wondered if there had ever been a man in her life, but afraid to truly look into her past, she could only rely on her senses. And they told her that there had never been anyone like Dunstan de Burgh.
A sudden burst of noise heralded the entrance of Dunstan’s younger brothers, and Marion felt her errant smile return. They rushed to greet their sibling with a loud volley of rather dubious exchanges: grunts from Simon, insults from Stephen, compliments from Geoffrey, and jests from Robin. Campion followed his sons in at a more stately pace, but he had no reservations about pulling his towering heir into a rough embrace. “‘Tis good to see you,” Marion heard him say, and then they all talked at once.
Listening absently, Marion waited for a formal introduction, but it did not come. The men held a low conversation and then filed up the stairs, presumably to the solar, for a private conference.
What was it about? Marion did not like the urgency of their meeting, nor could she imagine the reason for such grim manners. Was there a threat to Campion? Although the castle seemed impregnable, war was always a possibility, and she did not want to imagine the de Burghs going off to battle.
Moving closer to the fire to ward off a chill, Marion realized that for the first time since entering the safety of Campion’s walls, she felt uneasy, a prickly sense of dread disturbing the hairs upon her neck. Whether it denoted danger to herself or to her newfound family, Marion did not know, but she had to fight an urge to rush to the solar and throw herself into someone’s arms...preferably Dunstan’s.
Chapter Two
Looking up from the papers that had been delivered to him, Campion leaned back and sighed, his heart heavy with their contents. It had been a long and bitter winter with little activity, but the queries he had sent out months ago had borne fruit, and now... Now he wished they had not.
The earl regretted those simple actions, taken before the snows, but it was too late to call them back now. He was well aware that a man often set in motion events that traveled beyond his control, and such had been the case in the autumn when he had asked after a lost lady with no memory.
Reaching a decision, Campion laid his hands upon his knees and surveyed his sons. He felt pride at the sight of them gathered around him in the solar. It had been some time since they had met together. Was it last summer, or had it been spring the last time he had had the pleasure of seeing them all before him?
Campion was glad that the court courier had traveled first to Wessex, with messages for Dunstan. Otherwise, his firstborn might never have come. He felt a small measure of doubt as he wondered if there might be another reason for Dunstan’s visit. Campion was unsure, for his eldest son had become distant and close-mouthed ever since taking over his own holdings.
He is a grown man, keeping his own counsel, Campion noted with a mixture of respect and loss. Although his sons had their faults, they were good men, decent, well educated and capable. The matter at hand returned swiftly to mind, and he hoped that he could depend upon one of them to do what was right.
“It seems we have a problem,” he said without preamble. “You may remember that after Lady Marion arrived, I sent a ring belonging to her to court with the hope that someone there might identify it.” Campion paused, noting, with approval, that he had their undivided attention.
“It was recognized by one Harold Peasely, who claims the ring belongs to his niece, Marion Warenne. The lady, who owns quite a bit of land to the south, has been missing since she undertook a pilgrimage in the fall. Peasely is her guardian, and he wants her back—immediately.”
Campion looked about, assessing the reaction of his audience. Some faces, such as Reynold’s, were taut and grim, while others showed anger and dismay. Good. Obviously, none of his sons wanted the girl to leave. Now, if only he could convince them to keep her here....
“But why does Marion not remember this?” Simon asked sharply. “When we found her in the roadway she knew nothing, and she still claims not to know her own name.”
Campion rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I do not think the lady wants to be restored to her former life,” he answered slowly. “She has always seemed distressed by efforts to help her remember. I would speculate that she is happier here.” Campion saw Robin nod in agreement, while the others released sighs, grunts and mutters as they mulled over that pronouncement.
“If she does not wish to return, do not send her back,” Stephen said with a casual gesture that belied his concern.
“Unfortunately, we are in a rather awkward position,” Campion said. “This Peasely has threatened to bring a force of arms against us if we do not return Marion to her home at once.”
Robin whistled and shook his head.
“I would like to see him try to take Campion,” Simon snarled.
“Who the devil is he?” Reynold asked.
“He is a minor landholder, brother to Marion’s mother, but he holds sway over her extensive properties, her large fortune and her future, according to the messenger.”
“I say let the bastard come and be damned. He shall know whom he threatens!” shouted Simon, slamming his fist against his palm for emphasis.
“‘Tis not as simple as that, boys,” Campion said, holding up a hand to stem the tide of angry voices. He glanced toward Dunstan, thinking that his eldest might contribute to the discussion, but Dunstan only lounged against the wall with a detached air and an expression of disgust on his face. Obviously, he had no interest in the lady’s disposition and viewed his brothers’ concern as a waste of energy. Campion sighed, for he would have no help from that quarter.
“We have no legal right to the girl,” Campion explained. “Even if she wants to stay with us, we cannot keep her.” Outraged mutters met his words, and he lifted his hand again for attention. “Peasely is Marion’s guardian. There is naught we can do to change that, unless, of course, we were to gain the right to her in a perfectly lawful manner.”
Campion paused to assess each man in the room, hoping that one of them would come to Marion’s aid. They all looked at him expectantly, with the exception of Dunstan, who uttered a low snort and pushed off the wall with a grimace. Campion paid him no mind, for Dunstan did not even know the girl. One of his brothers would have to make the decision that Dunstan so rudely disdained.
“How?” piped up Nicholas.
“By marriage,” Campion said simply. He studied them seriously. “Which one of you shall take her to wife?”
Dead silence met his question.
Campion’s gaze swept the assembly, taking in each son, in turn, though none would meet his probing eyes now. Simon, the born warrior, scowled his denial, while Reynold grunted his dismay. Stephen, as was his way of late, immediately poured himself another cup of wine, Campion noted with a frown.
Robin was studying the tips of his boots
