by Anne Herries
He turned and smiled, coming back to her as she pushed herself up against the pillows. ‘You looked so peaceful. I did not want to disturb you, my love.’
Marietta yawned, and then swung her legs over the side and stood up. She gazed up at him, her lips soft and moist, slightly parted.
‘I was dreaming of you. Are you angry with me, Anton?’
‘Why should I be angry?’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘Yesterday I may have spoken harshly. You looked tired and pale. I was anxious that you had made yourself ill looking after others.’
‘I am not ill, Anton…’ She hesitated, her eyes searching his face. ‘I think there may be a good reason for my faintness—and the tiredness…’
‘You have worked too hard—’ he began, but she put her fingers to his lips and smiled. ‘Then what—?’
‘You remember that night…when we travelled to London?’
‘Yes, but—’ He broke off staring at her. ‘What are you telling me?’
‘I am not yet certain, but I think it very likely that I am carrying our child…’ She saw his face darken. ‘Oh, no, please do not look at me so. Why are you angry? I know it is too soon, but…’
‘Too soon?’ Anton looked into her face. ‘Not too soon, my love—but I wanted to have you to myself for a time…before you face the agony and danger that awaits you.’
‘Childbirth is painful, and at times it can be dangerous,’ Marietta admitted. ‘However, I carried my son easily, though I lost others. My husband blamed himself, for he was not strong enough to give me more children, but we are both young. There is no reason to think we shall lose our babe.’
‘It is not of the babe I think…though I should be loath to lose a child…but of you, Marietta…’ He reached out to hold her close, his face buried in her hair. ‘Isabella was always so sickly…If I lost you…’
She drew back, looking at him. ‘I am not Isabella. I shall not draw back when you touch me, or run from you. We can only trust in God that I shall be safely delivered of a child, Anton—but I do not fear it.’
‘You are so brave…’ He touched her cheek. ‘I love you more than life itself. I am a coward compared to you, my love.’
‘You? A coward?’ Marietta laughed mockingly. ‘You won the silver arrow against all comers. You fought my enemy face to face and killed him—yet you would have spared Miguel. Why would you have spared him?’
‘Because I felt pity for him. He loved Isabella and I took her from him. I wish that I had never seen her. Had I not asked for her, her father would have let her marry Miguel and both of them might still be alive.’
‘Do not blame yourself for their deaths, Anton. Isabella’s was an accident—for Miguel acted in haste, sending her to her death without understanding what he did—and he brought his own death on himself. I blamed myself at first, but I see now that I had no choice.’
‘You speak truly. When he tried to murder me there was no other choice.’
‘Miguel was mad with hate for you, Anton. He would have killed you if he could. We must neither of us feel guilt over his death.’
‘I shall not, and nor must you, though we may pity him…’ Anton looked down at her. ‘I had thought to lie with you this night, but now…’
Marietta laughed softly. ‘And so I should hope, my husband. We missed our wedding night. You have much to make up for…’
‘Wicked wench!’ he murmured. ‘But should we not be careful?’
‘We need not take care for a few months yet. I am hardly sure I carry the babe, but I have missed my courses and I feel it.’ She reached up to kiss him on the lips. ‘I see no reason why we should wait for the night, Anton. Secure the lock and come to bed with me.’
He hesitated, then, ‘You are sure?’
‘Yes, I am sure. I want to lie with you, my beloved. I want to seal my marriage vows. I am yours and I long to be in your arms…’
Anton smiled and moved to the door, turning the key in the lock. When he returned he saw that Marietta was trying to unlace her gown at the back.
‘Come here and I shall do it for you,’ he said, lifting her hair to kiss the back of her neck. She looked round and smiled at him. He kissed her lips and she moved against him. Anton wrenched the laces free and pulled the bodice over her head. Marietta swiftly untied the ribbon at her waist and let her overskirt fall to the ground. She stood before him in her thin undergown, holding out her hands. He took them, pulling her hard against him, suddenly fierce with need. ‘I want you so much…’
‘Your arm?’
‘A mere scratch…’ Anton said, bending his head to kiss her. ‘Nothing that will keep me from your bed…’ He reached out, gathering her up in his arms. ‘I have waited so long for this…’
Marietta smiled and kissed him.
‘You long for it no more than I,’ she whispered. ‘I have waited for you far longer than you know, my love…’
It was dark save for a chink of light from the small window when Marietta woke to find herself snuggled close to her husband. She could hear his even breathing and knew that he still slept. She stretched and moved away from him, getting up and going to the closet to relieve herself.
She could still taste his kisses on her lips, and feel the tingling between her thighs where he had loved her well. She had wondered if the excitement and pleasure she had known the first time in his arms could ever be repeated, but if anything this night had been better. Anton’s tenderness, his care for her pleasure and her comfort, had carried her to new heights of ecstasy. All her dreams had been surpassed. She knew that she was the happiest, most fortunate of women.
A little cry came from the bed. Marietta went to see what was wrong. Anton was having a dream—and a bad one, it seemed. He threw his arm out and kicked as if he were fighting.
‘No! Do not leave me…I cannot bear it…You must not…’ he muttered.
Marietta’s smile dimmed. Did he still think of the woman he had lost? Even after the night they had just spent in each other’s arms! He had sworn he loved her, but if he still called for Isabella…
‘Stay with me…’ Anton pleaded, tossing restlessly. ‘Marietta…my love…’
He was dreaming of her! Marietta climbed on to the bed and bent over him, pressing her lips to his cheek and giving him a little shake.
‘Wake up, Anton. Wake up, my love. I am here with you. I love you.’
Anton opened his eyes. He stared at her and then smiled. He reached out to touch her cheek, his hand moving in her scented hair.
‘I was having a bad dream. I dreamed that you had the child, but then you—’ He choked back the words. ‘No! It was just a dream. A stupid, foolish dream. You are strong. I am a fool to burden you with my fears. Forgive me, my beloved wife.’
‘Of course I forgive you,’ she said, and kissed his mouth. ‘I love you. I promise that I shall not leave you. I shall not die. When my time comes to have the child I shall be well cared for and nothing will happen. You must believe me.’
‘Yes, I believe you,’ he said. ‘I shall forget this nonsense. Forgive me for waking you.’
‘You did not wake me.’ She held her hand out to him. ‘Come, my love. Slip on your robe and come with me.’
Anton rose and put on the loose chamber gown that lay beside the bed. He looked at her oddly.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Just take my hand and wait…’
She led him along the passage to the nursery. Going in, they saw a candle still burned atop a chest some distance from the child’s cot.
Marietta drew her husband close to the cot, gazing down at the boy as he lay sleeping, his arm curled about Maddie. He must have climbed in with her, mayhap to comfort her. His skin was soft, touched with pink, one fist curled under his head the other arm across her body. Maddie was sleeping peacefully, her face against her companion’s curls. They looked so perfect together that it brought a lump to the throats of the man and woman who watched.
‘Is that not beautiful?’ Ma
rietta whispered. ‘Our children. Think of the other children I shall give you, Anton. Is it not worth a little risk for a son of your own?’
Anton looked down at the boy and smiled. ‘He is beautiful, and I shall love him as a son. We are lucky to have these two…’ He touched her face. ‘I care not what our child is—a son or a daughter. I know that you will bear it without fear. You will not weep and curse me as she did.’
‘Isabella blamed you for her discomfort?’ He nodded, and Marietta smiled. ‘All women complain and weep sometimes when they are with child, but it does not mean that they truly blame the father—it is just that they grow weary of feeling fat and ugly. Once it is over the pain and discomfort is forgotten.’
‘You are so wise and lovely,’ he said. ‘Do you mean to absolve me of all blame, Marietta?’
‘Isabella could not enjoy marriage as you might have wished, but that was not your fault. You must let the past go—as I have.’ She led him from the nursery back to their chamber. ‘Only then will you be free of the nightmares that haunt you.’
‘Yes, I know.’ He smiled and stroked his fingers down her cheek, placing a kiss at the little hollow at the base of her throat. ‘Shall you be content to live in England? Or do you wish to return to the castle?’
‘Could we have a house such as this?’
‘I hope to find something as comfortable—is that what you would like?’
‘Yes. I was never truly comfortable at the castle. It holds no fond memories—only those that I can create here with my son, Maddie and our children. I think I should be pleased if you could sell Montcrief and invest the money here in England for my son.’
‘Then you have solved my problem.’ He grinned as she raised her brows. ‘My father wishes me to buy an estate next to his—and my grandfather sent word that there was an excellent manor near to Melford. I was not sure which to choose. If we bought both we should between us own a huge area of land—all of which is held by members of my family. It would make our family one of the most powerful in England.’
‘Then purchase both and sell Montcrief,’ Marietta said. ‘If you need more gold I will sign so that you can use the money from the Comte’s deposits with the goldsmiths at the French court.’
‘I think the money would be better invested here,’ Anton said. ‘Your son will be raised as an English gentleman. Better that his land is here and well cared for than he inherit a neglected castle in France.’
They had reached their bedchamber. Marietta reached up to kiss him on the mouth, pressing herself against him.
‘Do it with my blessing,’ she said. ‘Build for the future, for all our children—and now, my love, I want you to come back to bed with me…’
Anton gazed down at her. ‘I almost passed by that day I saw the notice for the contest for the silver arrow. Had I never seen you, I might have refused when the King commanded me to take a message to the Comte de Montcrief. Had I not come, the rogues who tried to capture you might have killed you that day. I had decided that I would retire from court life, and would have liked to refuse the King, but it was the memory of your face as you gave me the arrow that drew me back to France, though I knew it not then. It has taken me a long time to let go and allow myself to love again, Marietta—but now that I have I shall love only you until I die.’
‘It was fate, our destiny,’ she said. ‘You saved me from certain death beneath the hooves of that horse, and when the dog attacked me—and you have saved me many times since. Yes, I am certain it was fate that drew us together at the last, my brave and gallant husband…’
Afterword
‘You must wait a little longer, my son.’ Anton’s father smiled as he motioned to him to sit down. ‘Come, drink some wine and exercise patience. You are not wanted in Marietta’s chamber for the moment. At times like these we must leave matters to the women. Your wife is strong and has already borne a living son. Your mother and grandmother are certain she carries a boy child, and they are usually right.’
‘How am I supposed to just sit here while she is in such pain?’ Anton demanded. He looked round as he heard another piercing scream. ‘I cannot bear it a moment longer. If she dies…’
‘There is little you can do, Anton.’ The Marquis of Malchester looked sympathetically at the Earl of Rundle. Both were strong fighting men, powerful and influential in their circles, and both felt helpless. ‘Catherine will call us when you can go up to your wife.’
Hearing another scream, Anton started for the door. He did not look round as his father called to him. ‘I must go to her. Perhaps I can help…’
Anton pounded up the stairway to the little solar where the child was being birthed. His heart was racing wildly, for Marietta had been in labour some hours and he was terrified that she would die. Would to God that he could bear the child for her! She had become such a huge part of his life that he would not want to live if he lost her, even for the sake of the children.
As he reached the door of the chamber he hesitated, and in that moment he heard a thin, wailing cry. That was not Marietta! It must be the child. His throat tightened and he felt his eyes sting with unaccustomed tears. Suddenly his feet were rooted to the ground, and he felt as weak as a kitten, unable to take another step. He was not sure how long he stood there, but after what might have been minutes or hours the door opened and his mother came out. She was carrying something wrapped in a fine wool shawl and smiling.
‘Your son is born, Anton.’
‘My son?’ He looked at her, almost stupid in his relief. ‘My son…But Marietta? Is she…?’ He was too fearful to ask the question.
‘Marietta is tired, but well. She was very brave, and bore her ordeal as she ought.’
‘Marietta is always brave,’ Anton said, and glanced at the red face of his son. ‘He is beautiful. Give him to me, Mother. I want to hold him when I see Marietta.’
Catherine handed over the babe. Anton took him carefully, then went into the birthing chamber. Marietta was lying against a pile of pillows, her eyes closed. She opened them as he approached, and smiled.
‘You have the son I promised you,’ she said, and held out her hand to him.
Anton bent to kiss her on the mouth. He sat down on the edge of the bed, holding his son carefully and looking down at the babe. ‘I think he looks like me. Charles looks like you, but that is as it should be. We have two sons and a daughter now, Marietta. Our family is complete.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Maddie is such a darling. I might like to have another daughter.’
‘I am not sure I could bear it,’ Anton said. ‘The birth of my son was almost too much for me…’ He saw the mischief in her eyes and laughed. ‘I know that you had to bear the pain, but it hurt me more than you will ever know.’
‘My poor darling,’ Marietta teased. ‘Next time I will have you here with me, so that I can hold your hand.’
‘Be careful, woman, you go too far,’ he replied. ‘Wait until you are well, and remember that I have the power to chastise you…’
Marietta was saved from replying by the arrival of her mother-in-law, who had brought Madeline and Charles to see their new brother. They were closely followed by the arrival of their grandfather, who was impatient to see the heir to his estates.
As Catherine took the babe and placed him carefully in his cot, Marietta felt her hand captured by Anton’s. She smiled up at him, then closed her eyes, drifting into a peaceful sleep. Her happiness was complete, and the future would be all that she had ever dreamed of and more…
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5020-2
FUGITIVE COUNTESS
Copyright © 2010 by Anne Herries
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