by Mary Wine
“Exactly. There is some part of you that is not mesmerized by the lust that Scot no doubt stoked inside you.” Now Philipa’s expression turned to one of revulsion, her lips thinning with distaste. “I had little doubt that you’d enjoy his carnal demands. You are very much like your mother.
“Still, it is what was needed.” Philipa reached for a goblet. She took a long sip, fully expecting everyone to wait on her while she pampered herself.
“You will remain in the solar. That is the only way that we shall be able to make everyone believe that Mary has birthed that child.”
“But how long, Mother? I’m tired of being locked up.”
Philipa frowned. “Has the world gone mad? Why is there no respect in either of you? Here I am working so diligently to make everyone happy and both of you argue with me.”
Mary pouted but she didn’t look like a child who knew she was defeated. Instead her face brightened with her desire for retaliation.
“You will have to remain in bed after the child is born, Mary, acting your part as the one recovering from childbirth. It sounds to me as though you might put that time to good use learning to be thankful that you do not have to face the pain of labor. She might die before pushing the child into the world and then we shall have a true mess to sort out.”
Mary’s nose wrinkled. “You mustn’t die, Anne.”
“I shall endeavor not to.”
Mary shrugged while rolling her eyes, clearly unconcerned with anything more than what she wanted. The child inside Anne kicked as if he understood that he was being fought over. Anne refused to weaken. Her son deserved to be born to the full station he had been conceived under.
May Brodick forgive her.
“What has that woman’s spite done to you?”
Ivy Copper entered the small solar, but she only had eyes for Anne. She swept her daughter from head to toe and back to swollen belly.
“Never once might I have suspected that she would do so horrible a deed.” Ivy flew across the room, folding Anne into her embrace.
“I have missed you, Mother.”
And she had. But the steady beating of her mother’s heart was sweet reassurance. Life. That was what she had left Warwickshire to ensure. It was also what she’d brought back with her.
“It was not awful. He is a good man.”
Her mother made a low sound. She stepped back to fix Anne with her mother’s eye.
“Please tell me that you did not fall into love’s trap. Anne, I warned you about it. You are saddled with the burden of having my tender heart. Both you and Bonnie.”
“But it’s not a burden, Mother.”
Ivy sighed, but a smile decorated her lips. She cupped both sides of her daughter’s face, tenderness in her voice. “Well, sweet Anne, you have gone and done it now. Placed your hand into the foolishness of love. I can no more scold you for it than stop loving your father. Forgive me for setting such a poor example for you.”
“Do you still love him, even now?”
“You mean at my age?” Ivy turned, looking around the solar. “It’s the truth that I do.”
Her mother surveyed the chamber. It was round because it was the top of one of Warwickshire’s towers. There were costly glass pane windows here because it was Philipa’s solar. There were three expensive chairs near the windows, their backs and arms ornately carved. A tapestry loom stood threaded and waiting for the lady of the house to work. Anne had never known Philipa to labor at such a task.
She ran a finger over the fine threads. The sunlight danced over them. They almost glowed.
“Silk.”
“Aye,” her mother confirmed. “Your father has always done right by Philipa. He denies her nothing.”
There was a note of envy in her mother’s voice. Anne smiled at her.
“He never gave her his love. That has been yours alone.”
“Just look what that’s done to you.” Ivy shook her head. “She used me against you, didn’t she?”
“Love is not one-sided, Mother. You have made sacrifices for me as well.”
Ivy frowned. “It is not the same, Daughter. This was evil.”
Anne sighed. She gazed out the window and realized that it faced north. Out there was Sterling. Her child belonged there with the kilts and long swords strapped to the men’s backs. Warwickshire was not home. There was no feeling of warm joy here, no comfort.
“I believe that good has already begun to unravel Philipa’s work. I left Bonnie in Scotland, away from Philipa’s reach. It was not a bad experience, Mother. If that is sinful, I am guilty.”
Ivy only shook her head. “I am not in any position to counsel anyone on the foolishness of love.” Her mother laid a hand on her daughter’s swollen belly. “Yet I did wish that your first child would be born in less turmoil.”
“I returned to make sure of that. This child will take his place even if I must allow Philipa to continue her foul scheme. If I speak against her, my babe will be illegitimate. There is no other way. Just as I could not watch Bonnie leave Sterling with Cameron. She is safe now. Brodick is a good man; he will not allow Cameron to take her.”
Anne felt confidence surge through her. She would not fail. There was naught but a curtain hung in the arched doorway between Philipa’s room and the solar. Philipa frowned as she strode into the room. Hatred blazed from her eyes when she looked at Ivy.
“I shall have satisfaction for every year that I have been forced to endure the shame of you giving my husband children.”
Cameron stepped into the room, grinning.
“Step outside this solar, and you shall face harsh consequences.”
Ivy glared at the mistress, her face displaying her contempt for the first time that Anne could recall.
“Wipe that look off your face…slut.” Philipa shook a finger at Ivy. “I am mistress here. You are nothing but the lightskirt my husband used to ease his lust.”
“I am much more.” Ivy raised her chin, defiance filling her voice.
The mistress of Warwickshire didn’t appear to know how to deal with the silent refusal of both women to lower themselves. Philipa shook with rage, her face turning red.
“You’d better remember.”
The curtain hit the wall when she left. Cameron followed her.
“You owe me for the service of fetching her back, since I don’t get the younger one now.”
Philipa argued as Ivy shook her head. But Anne smiled. She had diverted one plan and she would succeed in making sure her child was born to his rightful place. She sat at the loom, gently working it to make sure it was oiled. She needed to create. Her hands fairly itched to begin working. Selecting a thread, she began to weave it.
“I shall show you what he looks like, Mother.”
Anne worked at the loom, willing her memory of Brodick waiting for her in the spring sun onto the growing tapestry. She did not quit until the last rays of light vanished. At dawn she began again. Her back ached but her son kicked. The only thing that she lamented was not being able to fill the chamber with fresh air. She walked around the room to ease the strain in her lower back, but always returned to her tapestry, determined to finish it.
Determined to see Brodick’s face again, even if it was no more than silk.
The days stretched out and Anne didn’t really notice how many passed. She was intent on her tapestry, working hard to finish it. Her mother wrote a list and gave it to Mary, who grumbled about fetching things like a servant. Ivy remained firm.
Cameron had to haul a birthing chair into the solar himself. He dropped it with a sneer.
“Women’s work.”
The man left as Ivy laughed at him. “Selfish man.” She ran a hand over the sturdy chair. The seat was cut into a large horseshoe shape. Such a chair allowed the mother to bear down while having her body weight supported by the chair. It was quite a modern convenience.
Lady Mary threw a book across the chamber.
“Mother, there must be some concoction that you
can get old Ruth to fix that will make that baby come today.”
“Stop whining, Mary. For the final time, you shall wait.” Philipa glared at her child. “We have but one chance to secure you in this marriage without risking your life. That child needs to be healthy and strong. Not forced into the world before his time.”
Mary pouted.
Philipa’s eyes narrowed. She glanced behind her toward the curtain. Seeing that it was smoothly draped, she waved Mary toward her. Her daughter shrugged and closed the space between them.
“Ruth fixed this for me.”
Philipa raised her hand and showed a small glass jar. Inside was a jumble of leaves and strips of bark. Philipa placed it on her vanity table.
“Seeped in wine, it will send the drinker into a sleep they never awaken from.”
Mary gasped, but a look of savage enjoyment crossed her face. She reached out to touch the jar. “Once the baby is born, we’ll mull some wine and give it to both of them.”
“Exactly.” Philipa looked behind her once more. When she was assured that Ivy and Anne did not hear, she patted her daughter’s cheek. “No more fits from you. It will all be done shortly.”
Mother and daughter shared a smile that was pure evil. The jar sitting on the vanity awaited its moment of use.
Scotland
“Good God, man, ye look exhausted.” Druce stood up, offering his chair to Captain Murry.
The McJames’ retainer didn’t take the chair. He offered Brodick a quick pull on the corner of his bonnet before speaking.
“The mistress was taken back to England.”
“What?”
It was impossible to tell which man spoke first. Brodick, Cullen and Druce’s voices all bounced around the small town house together. Brodick held his hand out, authority rippling out of the gesture.
“Why did ye allow that?”
“She snuck out of the castle, made her bed look as though she was in it.”
A deadly look passed over the earl’s face.
“There’s more my lord and it isnae good.”
Brodick listened as Captain Murry explained the details. He shook his head, unable to absorb the deception completely. Who plotted such a thing?
There was a snort of laughter from the other side of the room. James Stewart hit the table top as his amusement grew.
“I didnae think the English had such cunning in them.” He chuckled and raised his tankard towards Brodick. “Well, my friend, I suppose ye’ll be wanting yer leave. ’Tis yers. Go fetch yer wife back.”
“Yet is she yer wife, my lord?” Captain Murry lowered himself before the king before turning to ask the question.
“She sure as hell is, man! She’s carrying me son.” Brodick was on his feet. He reached for his sword and tied it into place with stiff motions.
“Aye. I agree with that.” Druce nodded his head and reached for his own sword.
The king looked pensive for a long moment, too long for Brodick’s taste.
“She’s also the Earl of Warwickshire’s daughter and his wife sent her with me. Told me that was the bride I’d come for.”
James Stewart raised an eyebrow. “Yer too passionate by far, man, but ’tis the truth that I envy ye.”
The king stood, the two men-at-arms with him, keeping close to their master. “I agree that the marriage is valid. But I’ll ask ye this, do ye want a woman that lied to ye?”
Brodick stared at his king, his mind replaying that first meeting.
“She didnae lie to me.”
James raised an eyebrow.
Brodick clenched his fists. “She said nothing at all. That bitch of a countess should be flogged for abusing her position so greatly.”
James snorted. “Aye, I see yer thinking there, man.” He nodded. “Go fetch her back and I’ll see that the wedding agreement is honored.”
There was nothing more to be said. Brodick quit the room with Druce and Cullen on his heels. Their men hurried to saddle the horses. Leather snapped in the autumn morning air. Bridles and reins were secured while a few meager supplies were strapped to the horses. Brodick swung up into the saddle, his heart pounding.
What have ye done, lass?
He didn’t care. He was the McJames and she was his. According to the laws of both her country and his, and by right of possession. If he had to take her back, he would. Leaning over the neck of his mount, he urged the animal forward.
His…
Chapter Thirteen
Warwick Castle
Anne awoke in a surly mood. It was odd the way she noticed her own ill temper. She was not hungry and did not care for what was offered to break her fast, either.
She sniffed at herself because what did it matter what was served to them in their prison if she was not hungry? With a huff she paced around the solar. Anne stopped to pick at the finished tapestry, the silk thread having brought Brodick to life in stunning display. She fingered his dark hair. Her mother was abnormally quiet this morning, slowly knitting on the round. Looking back at the tapestry, she felt a shiver race down her spine. It was almost as if she heard him riding towards her.
Which was foolish.
He’ll come for you…
Bonnie’s sweet words echoed from her memory. It seemed so long ago that they had shared that last moment together. One short season, and so many things were changed. Her entire body quivered as she recalled watching her sire depart that morning. Sweat popped out on her forehead as she heard Bonnie talking about the child she would birth in the fall. Through the windows, she could see the scarlet leaves. Bundles of barley were standing in the fields, drying in the last of the warm weather.
She was so lonely, the sight of the tapestry made her want to cry. She paced around the room, hating the stone walls. A chill raced down her back and then her entire spine turned warm. She stopped as a cramp tightened along her hip line.
Her surcoat was too warm. Opening the buttons that closed the top of it, Anne laid it over the foot of the bed. It was still much too hot in the solar. Her body shuddered as another cramp moved through her. A rush of warm fluid down her thighs made her gasp.
“Well, I thought it was that time.”
Her mother calmly knelt and wiped up the puddle. The cloth she used turned pink.
Ivy stood up. “Don’t worry, Anne, that is the way it goes. It is normal.”
She didn’t have time to argue with her mother’s calm statement. Another cramp began and this one was much stronger. Leaning over, Anne braced her hands on her thighs while the pain moved through her.
“Breathe, Anne. Long, deep breaths. You must for the child.”
The curtain suddenly moved, Lady Mary looking in.
“Is it time?”
Ivy glared at the girl but Mary didn’t wait for an answer. She smiled, greed brightening her eyes.
“Mother, Mother…it’s time.”
There was a scuff of shoes against the stone floor. Philipa peered into the room as Anne straightened up.
“Good. Very good. I’ll get the cook to keep the water at hand.” Philipa nodded. “Mind your screams, girl. Make too much noise and I won’t be able to make the staff believe that your child is Mary’s.”
“Now is not the time for threats.”
Philipa was stunned by Ivy’s words. She pushed her lips into a line of disapproval but Ivy was not intimidated.
“We’ve work to do here. Birthing is not an easy task.”
Philipa bit back her words. “No, it is not.” For a mere moment there was a glimmer of compassion in her face but it died quickly and the curtain dropped back into place.
“Bitter, poisonous woman,” Ivy said as she began arranging the items she’d had brought to the room. “Take no notice of her, Anne.”
Anne couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. She was held captive by her own body. The day bled away as she walked around the solar, stopping for each cramp. She shed her under gown, only able to tolerate her chemise. Even her stockings irritated her legs.
The stone floor was cool beneath her bare feet. She sighed as she paced more, at last free of the overwhelming heat.
“It’s time…it’s time.”
Mary twirled around the room, adding a few dance steps into her motions. “Oh, Mother, you were so right.”
Philipa basked in the admiration from her child. Contentment mixed with a sense of achievement inside her. Mary would never have to endure the things that she had been forced to when her father ordered her to marry. She had succeeded in giving her child a better life than her own.
That was the greatest gift a mother could give.
“Here now, Toby, lend a hand.”
Joyce scolded her son when she caught him watching the guards in the lower courtyard. The clang of swords drifted in through the window, drawing his young attention. He’d watch them train all afternoon if she allowed it.
“Mother, can I be a knight?”
“If a saint or two looks kindly on you, blessing you with strength and skill. Mayhap.” Joyce kissed the top of his head, smiling with a mother’s joy. “We’ll have to place you in the captain’s path and see that he gets a good look at how tall and strong you are growing. You shall have to look him straight in the eye, though, so that he knows you have courage.”
Toby grinned, showing off the gap where his front teeth had fallen out.
“But that’s for later. The mistress will be having her comforts and there is supper to get on the tables. For now, you earn your keep in the kitchen like your mother.”
Joyce turned to apply her tongue to the hands that had begun working slowly as the morning faded away. Clapping her hands, she shook her long wooden spoon at her staff. Lazy wenches, they took advantage of her good will when Toby was in the kitchen. Aye, they slowed down knowing that she was soft toward her youngest child.
“Get that wine mulled before the mistress calls for it. I’ll see you bent over in the fields if you get me summoned to her chamber because you’re dreaming the day away.”
There was a clatter of copper pots as the coals were poked and the wine set to heating. Toby waited for it, carefully balancing the tray as his feet moved swiftly toward the mistress’s chamber. He lifted the heavy door knocker and let it fall onto the door. It seemed to take a long time for the heavy panel to open.