The Last Heiress (49 page)

He nodded in the affirmative, sighing as her hands caressed him.

She unlaced his shirt, pushing it open so she might kiss his chest and lick at his nipples, while her two hands played with his stiff manhood.

Finally, able to bear no more teasing, Elizabeth mounted Baen, her legs resting on either side of him as she lifted her skirts and then gracefully sank down on his love lance with a gusty sigh. His big hands slipped beneath her buttocks, fondling them. He leaned forward to kiss her, whispering to her as he did so.

“Fuck me well, wife. I am so hot for you at this moment that I care not who comes into the hall.”

Elizabeth obliged him, beginning with a gentle walk, progressing next to a trot, then a canter, and finally she galloped them both home.

She bit her lip so hard to keep from crying out that it bled, and he sucked the blood from it even as he filled her with his passion juices.

She collapsed upon his shoulder, gasping with her own pleasure as he groaned aloud.

“Woman, no other has ever given me the delight that you do!”

Elizabeth smiled at the declaration. She lay recovering against him for a few minutes, and then she slipped off his lap, drawing her skirts down about her, lacing her blouse back up, and smoothing her di-sheveled hair with her hands. “We will, of course, continue this discussion later in our bed, sir,” she told him.

“At your pleasure, madame,” he assured her.

“And yours, sir,” she said with a smile.

“How will you satisfy that naughty itch of yours while you are away from me?” he wanted to know. “Will you take a lover, like so many of the fashionable court ladies?”

Elizabeth pretended to consider his suggestion. “Perhaps I shall,”

she said. “And you, Baen? Will you make one of the maidservants your lover?”

“Nay, a milkmaid or shepherdess, I think,” he replied with a grin.

“I far prefer an outdoors lass.”

She swatted at him, and, laughing, he ducked. “Scots villain,” she cried. “I shall know if you are untrue to me!”

Reaching up, he pulled her down onto his lap, kissing her soundly.

“There is absolutely no other woman in the world for me, Elizabeth, my wife. I should sooner spend the rest of my life a celibate than have another. But you? Will you be tempted by a charming courtier now that you know what passion is all about?”

Elizabeth punched his shoulder hard. “Nay, and how can you even ask me such a thing? I hated the court, and all of the pompous gentlemen who looked down on me for being more in love with my lands than with them. Only the king was kind to me, because he had grown up with my mother and holds her dear.”

“What of your other Scot?” Baen asked.

Was that jealousy she heard in his voice? Elizabeth wondered. “I had forgotten him,” she lied. “He was a pleasant fellow, I will admit, but it is unlikely he is still there. I told him he must ask his brother, King James, for a wife with lands. He probably did, and is long gone from King Henry’s court. Nay, there is only one Scot for me, and you are he, my love!” Then, kissing him hard upon his mouth, she jumped up from his lap. “The others will be returning to the hall any minute.

Straighten your garments, sir!”

“Do you mind that I am jealous?” he asked as he put his clothing aright.

“I am flattered to know that you still love me,” Elizabeth said.

“I will always love you,” Baen told her.

The storm was gone by the following morning, and the sun was shining brightly over the snowy landscape. Elizabeth had written the message she was sending to the new queen the evening before. Now she handed it to the royal messenger, who was ready to make his return journey. She gave him a silver coin for his troubles, and he thanked her effusively. He had been well fed twice. His horse had been well cared for and was ready. His saddlebag was filled with food for at least the first few days of his journey south. He rode out and was surprised to meet the manor’s steward once he was out of sight of the house. “Sir?” he asked, curious.

“Did you stop at the manor known as Otterly on your way here?” Baen asked him.

“Nay, sir, the night before I arrived I sheltered in a farmer’s barn along the way,” the messenger answered. “I had passed Otterly the day before.”

“Ride hard today and you will reach Otterly by nightfall,” Baen advised him. “Ask to speak with Lord Cambridge, and give him this.”

Baen put another packet into the messenger’s hand. “Tell Lord Cambridge that the steward at Friarsgate asked that you be sheltered the night. Lord Cambridge has spent much time at court, and you may speak freely with him about your reasons for coming to Friarsgate.” He offered the messenger a large copper.

“Nay, sir, the lady has given me a coin,” the messenger said politely.

“You are not a rich man; take it,” Baen insisted, and the messenger did not demur again, instead agreeing to reach Otterly by nightfall and bring Lord Cambridge the message from the steward at Friarsgate.

Baen watched him depart down the snowy track.

The sunset was a bloodred smear on the horizon, and the sky almost black above it when the royal messenger arrived at Otterly. He was ushered into the hall and requested to see Lord Cambridge.

“I will send for my uncle immediately,” Banon said, beckoning to a servant. “Fetch Lord Cambridge,” she told the man.

“Thank you, mistress,” he replied, enjoying the warmth that now seeped into him, taking the chill of the long day’s ride from his cold bones. He sipped at the hot cider put into his hands by another servant, watching, amused, as the children in the hall played noisily about them.

After almost a half an hour Thomas Bolton came into the hall. “A messenger?” he said. “From whom?”

“Friarsgate, although this fellow wears a royal badge,” Banon said.

Lord Cambridge came up to the messenger. “In whose service are you?” he asked quietly.

“The queen’s, my lord. Queen Anne,” came the reply.

Banon screamed, surprised, startling her children, who looked nervously towards their mother. “Queen Anne?” She gasped.

“Aye, mistress,” the messenger said.

“I had best take this fellow to my wing to learn all, dear girl,” Lord Cambridge said. And what had the messenger been doing at Friarsgate? he wondered.

“Nay, Uncle! He will tell us all here. I shall not wait until you decide to share his news with us. I could not bear it,” Banon said.

Thomas Bolton looked about him. Even Robert Neville looked curious. “Oh, very well, my darlings,” he said. “But give me a goblet of wine first. I fear somehow that I shall need it.” He settled himself in a tapestry-backed chair by the fire. “Come, sir”—he waved a languid hand at the messenger—“sit down and tell us all.” He gestured towards a small settle opposite him, smiling as a wine goblet was placed in his hand.

The messenger sat down gingerly. He was not used to being asked to sit, but it was certainly more comfortable to tell his story thusly.

“Leave nothing out, dear boy,” Lord Cambridge told him. “We want to know why you went to Friarsgate, and how Anne Boleyn managed to become queen, and why you have come here to Otterly on your return, for ’twas not by chance.”

“Nay, my lord, ’twas not. The lady of Friarsgate’s husband, the steward of the manor, stopped me on the road south and gave me this packet for you”—he handed it to Thomas Bolton—“and told me to stop the night here, saying it was at his request you shelter me,” the messenger explained.

“I am the lady’s uncle,” Lord Cambridge said, “and Otterly is my home. Go on now, dear boy, and tell us the rest, the juicy meat of the reason for your journey in such wretched winter weather.”

The messenger began his tale, being interrupted now and again by Lord Cambridge, who wanted every detail. Not being a person of importance, the man could tell them little other than the facts he knew, the gossip he was privy to, but Thomas Bolton was able to fill in, thus gaining a reasonably accurate picture of the situation. When he had finished, the messenger looked to Lord Cambridge questioningly.

The older man nodded slowly, and then said, “Banon, have one of your servants take this good man to the kitchens for his supper, and see he is supplied with a warm place to sleep the night. He has a long journey ahead of him. And see there is food for his travels on the morrow,” he instructed her.

“Yes, Uncle,” Banon said quietly. She signaled to one of her serving men and, after instructing him, sent the messenger from the hall with thanks. Then she turned to her uncle, saying, “What does Elizabeth’s husband say?”

The older man cracked the seal on the letter handed him. He spread the parchment out, smoothing the creases in it, and read it slowly through. “Your sister has been commanded to court by the new queen,” Thomas Bolton began. “She is not pleased, but she will, being your mother’s daughter, of course, obey.”

“And Baen wants you to go with her,” Banon deduced.

“Nay. He says Elizabeth will not ask me because she does not wish to impose upon my kindness and hopes her visit will be a short one.

How she has matured in these past few years,” he said with a fond smile.

“But you will go,” Banon said.

“Nay, I will not,” Thomas Bolton replied, surprising them. “I shall go to Friarsgate as soon as the snow is gone, and Elizabeth will tell me then what it is she desires of me. Fortunately styles have changed little, and the gowns made for her last time will do for this visit, with alterations, of course. Motherhood does tend to enlarge a lady’s girth,” he murmured diplomatically.

“Indeed, Uncle, it does,” Banon told him with a laugh. She was almost plump now with her many children, but still quite pretty.

“And I shall have Will arrange for her accommodation along her route. She will be going to Greenwich without a doubt. She will be fine, dear Banon. She is the lady of Friarsgate. She has a husband, and she goes to court at the request of the queen, her good friend. Who knows what advantage that will give her, as it certainly gave your mother?”

“Philippa must be furious.” Banon chortled mischievously.

Lord Cambridge laughed too. “Aye. Now for her sons’ sakes she must eat a rather large slice of humble pie, I fear,” he said. “But she will. If Philippa learned one thing from your mother it is that family is everything. And since this new queen favors her, Elizabeth must help smooth your sister’s new path. If not for Philippa, then for her lads.

Who knows? Having Philippa in her debt may be of use to Elizabeth one day.”

“I should be terrified to have Philippa in my debt,” Banon said. “I can only imagine how very grand she is now after all these years as a countess.”

“She was quite charming when we saw her two years ago,” Thomas Bolton said.

“Aye,” Banon said shrewdly, “while there was still hope that her patroness would regain her vaunted position. But now? Uncle, I shudder to imagine her state.”

He smiled wisely. “Philippa, like Rosamund, is a survivor, dear girl.”

“When must Elizabeth go south?” Banon asked.

“Baen does not say, but certainly as soon as spring breaks,” he replied. “I will depart for Friarsgate in another few days, the weather permitting. I shall learn everything once there so that when I return I can tell you. And Elizabeth will, of course, stop here on her journey south, so you may speak privily with her then,” Thomas Bolton said.

Then he stood. “I must return to my own wing and tell dear Will all that has happened. He will be perishing with curiosity, as would I were our positions reversed, which—thank God—they are not.” He departed the hall.

“The women in your family do have a knack for making friends with the mighty,” Robert Neville noted to his wife. “I am very glad you never did, dear heart. I should not be happy if you were commanded to court.”

“Nor would I,” Banon admitted. “Poor Elizabeth. I can only imagine how much she hates even the thought of her visit. Uncle says she was most unhappy at court but for the kindness of Anne Boleyn. Yet much evil is spoken of this woman even here in the north so far from court.”

“Blame that on Northumberland and his family,” Robert Neville said astutely. “The old earl always blamed Anne Boleyn for his son’s unhappy marriage. He claimed she put a curse on Lord Percy’s union because she could not wed him, when the truth was that the king for-bade the match because he wanted the lady for himself.”

Banon shuddered. “Too much intrigue, Rob. I am glad I was overshadowed by Philippa during my tenure at court. You are the only thing good that came from my stay.” She smiled at him lovingly. “You and our marriage and all of our children.”

Robert Neville put an arm about his wife. “Thanks to you I far ex-ceeded my family’s expectations, Banon,” he told her, returning her smile. “Who would have expected a younger son in a minor branch of the Nevilles to wed an heiress? Certainly not my kin.” He chuckled.

Banon laughed. “Oh, Rob,” she told him, “I hope it is not wrong to be so happy! I want Elizabeth to be as happy with her Scot. I must ask Uncle to see if Baen will ride as far as Otterly with Elizabeth. I can only imagine how furious this royal command has made her.”

But strangely, while annoyed to have her life disrupted, Elizabeth was not angry. Anne Boleyn was a very proud woman. The proudest Elizabeth had certainly ever known. If she wanted Elizabeth with her, there was a very good reason for it.
Our acquaintance was not a long one,
the lady of Friarsgate considered,
but a strong friendship was forged between us. I will go to her. I wrote to her when I wed. I wrote to her when
young Tom was born. She even sent him a fine silver ladle for a baptism gift.

Her purse was never great, so I know that was a sacrifice for her. I do not
like the court, but I do like Anne. She will not keep me long.

Elizabeth and Nancy began unpacking the beautiful garments that Thomas Bolton had had made for her several years ago. Her bosom had increased in size, and she had gained at least a half inch in the waist with her son’s birth. They set to work altering the gowns, and Elizabeth hoped that styles had not changed greatly since her last visit to court. She wished she had Thomas Bolton’s advice, for he would surely know. She was not unhappy, therefore, when Lord Cambridge arrived at her door some two weeks after the royal messenger had gone his way back to court.