BBW ROMANCE: BWWM Romance: A Cowboy’s Southern Comfort (Military Cowboy Pregnancy Romance) (Interracial Army Contemporary Fantasy Romance Short Stories) (37 page)

She would, no doubt, have to marry again.

So preoccupied with her thoughts, she never saw the knights arrive. And when they pounded on her door, she nearly shouted with panic.

“Are you Ms. Jacqueline Baker?”

“I am.”

The knight bowed his head and handed her the piece of paper. “You are hereby summoned to the court of King Henry tomorrow morning. We will return to escort you safely there.”

“What?” Puzzled, she glanced over the letter. “Why would I be summoned to court?”

“I am not privy to that information. Please be ready.” He turned and left her holding the paper in shock.

There were few things that she was involved with that would warrant the King’s attention. It was far too early for the attentions from the dress.

So it no doubt had something to do with the wedding of one Duke of Billington and the Lady Mary Westin.

There would be no hiding now.

Crumping the paper in her hands, she slumped to the floor and wept.

***

The knights arrived to escort her that morning. She wore her nicest dress, although on her budget, she knew she would stand out in the crowd of the King’s court. Mr. Towson fidgeted with his hat nervously, but she told him that she would be back shortly and not to worry.

Her escorts never said a word to her. She sat bravely on the horse, and kept her hands tight on the reigns. When she arrived to court, she discovered that it was already in session.

King Henry was a fair king. He never overtaxed his people, but he wasn’t known for his kindness. After the Queen had passed, he began to show his age, and he grew colder and more bitter. But, like everyone else, Jackie supported her king. He sat now on his throne between a standing couple.

Stuart, of course, stood on his left and faced the woman with a tense expression. The beautiful woman wore an angry expression, and her eyes immediately met Jackie’s when she came in. Stuart had his back to her and never saw her enter.

A cold smile crossed Lady Westin’s face. To Jackie’s relief, she saw that the court was being held in private. No one but a few of the aristocracy would witness this moment.

Could she lie to the King to save Stuart?

“Your majesty, I have proof that the Duke has not been faithful to me. To that end, he has impregnated a commoner in the town,” Mary proclaimed.

The King looked at her tiredly. “Lady Windsor, as you two are not yet married, the Duke may conduct himself as he wishes. I have no doubt that he’ll take care of this child so it does not tarnish his or your reputation.”

“That’s not the point!” she shrieked. “He no longer wants to go through with the wedding!”

At this, the king straightened. “Stuart? Is this true?”

A murmur shot through the small crowd. Stuart bowed his head in reverence. “I am sorry, Your Majesty. I know you handpicked Lady Westin for me, but things have changed. Now it is true that I bedded a commoner. Although, from her words, the child is not mine. But I find that I love her, and I would marry her if she should have me.”

“Even though she claims the child is not yours?” the king said sharply. “That makes no sense. If the child is not yours, then there has been no harm done.”

“Not to me. But her reputation is on the line,” Stuart said softly.

Jackie couldn’t help but gasp softly. The knights stirred uneasily around her. What was the blasted man doing?

“Then let the real father of the child marry her,” the King said dismissively. “I would have a proper heir take inheritance of your title, Stuart. That was the point of this marriage. I will not have your reputation as a rake and a scoundrel hurt this aristocracy. You will at the very least marry and provide a child. And you will marry well. You will marry Lady Westin. And if you do not, I will strip you of your title. Do you understand?”

Jackie’s shoulder’s slumped. Stuart would not dare to defy the King. He would listen to reason and do the right thing. He would marry the Lady Westin and forget all about her.

“I understand,” Stuart said softly. “And I accept your terms. Even if Ms. Baker will not consent to have me, I have now discovered love. And I will not enter a marriage without it. To live without love would be far worse that to live without a title. I’m sorry, your Majesty. And I am sorry, Lady Windsor. But you are far better off with someone who loves you rather than someone who would only use you.”

“No,” Jackie cried out. Stuart whirled around and stared at her with a slack jaw. “Please don’t do this. You’ll lose everything.”

“No, my love,” he said as he moved to her. Clasping her hands, he brought one up for a kiss. “I lost everything when you turned me away. A title is nothing to what I feel for you.”

Tears blurred her vision as she searched his eyes. She saw nothing but truth in them. “I lied,’ she whispered. “I’ve been with no one but you. But I love you, and I couldn’t let you ruin your life for me. You are one of the richest men in the country, and I rent a room over a bookstore.”

“I don’t care. I don’t give a damn about your money or status or reputation. I would spend my whole life with you if you would have me. Although now we’d have to live above the bookstore together.”

Jackie smiled through her tears, and her heart nearly burst. She forgot that there was anyone else in the room as he bent down to kiss her.

“Bring her forward,” the king barked.

Immediately she was jerked away from Stuart and forced towards the king. She held her shoulders back and curtsied. “Your Majesty. I beg forgiveness.”

“Rise. Tell me your name.”

“Jacqueline Baker of London. I was formally Jacqueline Saunders. Charles Baker was my husband, although he’s passed now. I work as a seamstress in town.”

“Independently?” the King said thoughtfully.

“The children of my late husband were generous with his will. He was not a kind man, and they took pity on me. Their generosity has allowed me to live and work on my own.”

“And you love Stuart? How did you come to meet him?”

She cast her eyes down. “I confess to not knowing his identity. He was being robbed late one night, and I scared them away. The duke was hurt, so I helped him home. I have practice stitching my late husband up when he injured himself, so I did the same for the duke. One thing led to another, and it wasn’t until the night after that I realized his true identity. I sent him home, and I thought that would be it.”

“You saved his life,” King Henry said softly. “My marriage to Queen Lidia was matched, and I did grow fond of her, but there was another before her. We were young and in love, and I often wonder what would have happened had I stood up to my father and married her.”

Jackie’s heart beat in her chest. What was he talking about?

“I am sorry, Mary. But Stuart is right. You do deserve someone better. And we will find him. But for now, I would like to announce the Duke of Billington, Stuart Windsor, and the soon-to-be Duchess of Billington, Jacqueline Baker.”

Jackie gasped, and Stuart ran to wrap his arms around her waist and life her in the air.  “You must be married tomorrow,” the King said gravely.

“Tomorrow!” Jackie gasped.

“Do not worry about it, my love,” Stuart said softly. “I’ll make all the arrangements.”

“I don’t need anything fancy,” she whispered with a smile. “But I do need a dress.”

He smiled and kissed her gently. “But you have one. The dress was always meant for you. And from the moment I saw it, I knew that you’d made it perfect.”

The dress fit her perfectly, and it was the talk of the country. Word spread far and wide of the Duke and his uncommon common bride. Everyone, even Mary herself, wanted a wedding dress just like it, and people talked about the love story for years to come. Despite having more money that she could dream of, she still continued her seamstress work, and she paid for her old room to help any women in need. Stuart never strayed, and he became the stand up citizen the King had always wanted him to be.

And when Jackie gave birth to a baby boy, they knew that their world was complete.

*****

THE END

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Mishap from
a
n Unearthly Desire
by Patricia Vanzant

Michael pressed the door shut softly, the morning air still and empty around him. It was barely 4am, the sun had only just risen, and he felt compressed by the quiet pressure of the apartment. Michael pulled his hair up in a knot on top of his head and unbuttoned his coat, underneath which he was wearing a baggy t-shirt and shorts. Cold crystalized through his legs, his skin came up in goose bumps and he took a few moments to really feel his feet back on the floor of his apartment. It was supposed to be grounding but did little more than make him feel nauseous. Michael was 32 and characterized by a manic sort of anxiety that he had channeled into art. Over time he had confined his work to one room of the apartment, but at his peak the entire house was splattered with ink and scraps of paper. You could roughly estimate Michael’s state of mind by the proliferation of art supplies and half empty cups of coffee strewn across the living room. At the moment, there were only a few sketchpads. At the moment, in theory, everything was calm and comprehensible. Nothing bad has happened yet, the room said, I’m still how you left me.

Stepping carefully down the hall, his feet making little sticky noises on the cheap laminate floor, he peered round the corner of the bedroom door. Ash was asleep in a ball on the bed, in a grey tank top and red underpants, his dark, short hair sticking up at all angles, and he looked soft and gentle and boyish. Guilt struck through Michael like a shriek. He loved Ash more than anything. They had been through so much together. Michael owed Ash better than what he had done. It was cliché, sneaking off with a woman. He was disgusted at himself for fitting the stereotypes he’d spent his life fighting back against. But it wasn’t as simple as that, he told himself, it wasn’t that simple at all.

Michael crept across the room which was filling with the soft light of morning through the Venetian blinds. The room was a dusky rose, wardrobes half opened and clothes strewn in little constellations all over the floor. It was the kind of thing Michael could only romanticize because he loved Ash regardless of how messy he was. He left trails of things everywhere he went in the house, as if to prove he was entitled to be there. To remind himself he lived in this apartment full of cheap and cheerful flat pack furniture overflowing with photos and books given as gifts and hair product. Ash took up a lot of space, regardless of the fact he was relatively small. He was constantly fighting to prove he had a place in the world. Michael feared that if he ever found out about Sylvia, he would question Michael’s faith in that proposition. Michael felt that thought lying heavy on his tongue like a pill as he slipped under the covers, a bloom of heat spreading through his body. He laid his head down and watched Ash sleep, his chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly, their heartbeats beating in time with one another. When Michael looked at the alarm clock it seemed as if almost no time had passed, mere minutes since he had left Sylvia’s house. For a moment he thought maybe he had set the clock wrong or it was daylight savings and then for a moment he feared time had solidified round his betrayal, weighing it like a bone turned up in the foundations of a house. What have you done, the still clock seemed to ask him, have you fully grasped what has happened here?

It was impossible to justify sleeping with Sylvia. Michael wasn’t going to try and argue that his and Ash’s relationship w as in trouble or he was drunk or whatever other excuse might immediately come to mind. Michael himself wasn’t quite sure what had happened, only that they had seen each other across the bar and were instantly drawn to one another. Sylvia’s features were so angular and delicate that it seemed almost eerie. Though she was with friends and they were all dressed relatively similar, she had seemed distinctly apart from them. She looked like an imposter. There was something about that falseness that was almost perfect enough to be invisible that Michael was fascinated by. She was like a glass figurine come to life, her eyes were wet and piercing and her lips a thin pink line. There was nothing glamourous about what had happened between them. In what had seemed like seconds they had been in Sylvia’s apartment, if you could even call it that, it was near surgical in its minimalism. A tiny one room apartment, which hummed with energy the moment he stepped in the room, like it had been waiting for him.  On her small metal framed bed they fucked in a way that felt almost hostile.  Sylvia’s perfect body poised above him like a kind of angel, the planes of her face like geometric shapes under the harsh lighting and her eyes flat pools of something that might have been anger. It was like the kind of dream you have at the height of summer, sleeping somewhere strange. The outside world seemed to sneak into his skull, coil into something strange and emerges as a half nightmare that makes you feel sick and lustful all at once. Michael felt like he had missed a sleight of hand. Something very important had happened rapidly and Michael was still standing, hands outstretched, trying to grasp the complexities of what that something was.