The Last Heiress

by Bertrice Small

  “Well, I did,” Elizabeth said with a grin. “The proof of my naughtiness is currently in Uncle Thomas’s arms.”

  Banon’s eyes grew large as she looked at the baby Lord Cambridge held. “He’s huge!” she exclaimed. “And you birthed him when?”

  “The morning after Midsummer’s Day,” Elizabeth said.

  “God’s blood! It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you. None of mine have been that big at so young an age,” Banon told her sister.

  “Baen helped me. He drew the bairn’s head and shoulders from my body,” Elizabeth exclaimed to Banon’s openmouthed amazement.

  “He didn’t!”

  “He did.”

  Banon shook her head. “I never thought you would find a man to suit you, and to suit Friarsgate, but ’tis obvious you have, Elizabeth.” She put her arms about her sister, hugging her. “I am so happy for you! I can’t wait till Philippa sees him. Is she coming?”

  “Nay. I wrote to her myself, but she says she is too busy attending to the queen while the court is in progress. Katherine was sent to Moor Park in Hertfordshire, and has since been removed to Bishop’s Hatfield. The king does not wish to see her face again, Philippa writes, and the princess has been removed from her mother’s custody now.”

  “Poor lady,” Banon sympathized.

  “Foolish lady,” Elizabeth said. “Anne told me she would be queen, and it would appear that she may be one day sooner than later. I do admire Philippa’s loyalty, however. It has never wavered.”

  Banon nodded. “Aye, but then she believes her small success is owed to the queen’s patronage. I am glad I am not at court. I am quite content to be a country wife.”

  “Philippa’s good fortune is owed to our uncle,” Elizabeth said, “as is all of ours.”

  Banon nodded again in agreement.

  Thomas Owein Colin Hay was baptized shortly thereafter in the same church in which his mother had been. He had two godfathers standing for him: the man for whom he was named, and his uncle Gilbert Hay, who had come down from Scotland as Baen had predicted. The baby howled as the holy water was laved over his dark head, and it was considered an excellent omen, for the devil had been driven from the child in that simple act of baptism. His mother, his father, and his relations smiled, well pleased.

  “He’s a braw laddie,” Gilbert Hay said, looking down at the infant in his arms. “Da will be pleased when I tell him.”

  “I wish he had come with you,” Baen said.

  “Och, you know Da. He rarely goes off his own lands. He’s been up at Glenkirk of late. The old earl is not well. They think he may not last another winter, but who knows? He’s a tough old man,” Gilbert remarked.

  There was feasting in honor of Thomas Owein Colin Hay. Long tables were set before the house. There was venison, lamb, and beef roasted. There was trout, and salmon broiled in wine. There were artichokes for the high board, peas, and braised lettuces for below. There was bread, sweet butter, and several kinds of cheeses. There were jellies, and spun-sugar subtleties shaped like lambs. There was even an enormous cake soaked in marsala wine with enough slices for everyone. And the Lammas Day traditions were all observed as well. The Friarsgate folk admired the new heir, and then they ate and drank. And after the sun had set and the infant was put in his cradle, Sadie by his side, there was dancing and singing.

  Finally the Friarsgate folk returned to their own homes. The servants cleared away all evidence of the celebration as the family adjourned to the hall. Alexander Hepburn had disappeared with his brother James into the darkness. Gone hunting for pretty maids, Elizabeth thought with a smile. She watched as her half brothers, twins Thomas and Edmund, played hide-and-seek with their nieces, Katherine and Thomasina. The four were so close in age that they seemed more brothers and sisters.

  “A most splendid day!” Lord Cambridge enthused. “Your table is most munificent, dear girl, and my namesake a fine young fellow. I have enjoyed myself quite nicely, and Will too. We shall come again, perhaps next spring.”

  “You and Will are always welcome, Uncle,” Elizabeth told him. “And I want young Thomas to know you as my sisters and I have.”

  Sweet wine and sugar wafers were now brought around, and the family remained, gossiping. Logan Hepburn reached out and took his wife’s hand. Rosamund smiled back at him in return. They both knew she would not come to Friarsgate as often now as she had in the past. With Baen and Elizabeth in charge the manor was safe and in good hands. And there was a male heir, the first in several generations. He was glad, for he loved Rosamund more today than he had when he had first seen her as a child, more than when he had lusted after her and she had fallen in love with another man. More now than he ever had. He wanted his wife all to himself.

  The hour grew late. Banon and Robert Neville took their daughters and went upstairs. Lord Cambridge and Will had been the first to retire. Rosamund and Logan bade Elizabeth and Baen a good night. Logan had seen the twins settled in the hayloft of one of the barns. In the first barn he had gone into he had heard a great deal of giggling and voices from the loft above, and knew where his two older lads had gotten to, with two Friarsgate lasses undoubtedly. He grinned, pleased, at the same time hoping no damage would be done to the girls in question.

  Finally Baen and Elizabeth found themselves alone in their hall. Together they laid the timber across the front door. Together they walked about seeing to the fires in the hearths and snuffing out the candles. Standing at the foot of the stairs, they embraced, kissing slowly. His big hand smoothed her cheek as he smiled into her eyes. Then together they ascended the staircase to their bedchamber. Nancy had been sent to her bed earlier, and so they undressed each other. It was the first time since Baen had left her the previous autumn that they had made love, and each was a little shy of the other.

  She helped him off with his breeches and jerkin, then unlaced his shirt. Her blond head bent to kiss the warm flesh of his chest as she pressed the shirt from his shoulders and it slipped down his tall form. He shuddered as her mouth feathered little kisses across his skin. Then, pulling her up, he turned her about and unlaced her gown. It was silk, the blue of the sky today. It was Elizabeth’s favorite color, and it suited her. He pushed the gown down to her waist, unlaced her petticoats, and then lifted her from the tangle of fabric. Only her chemise remained, and Elizabeth smelled sweet in his embrace.

  “I have longed for this moment for months,” he told her.

  “I have longed more,” she admitted. “Sit down.” And when he had she took off his boots, putting each of his legs between her two and pulling firmly. Then, turning about, she unrolled his stockings down his legs and over his feet. “You have such big feet and toes,” she remarked with a small smile.

  “Now you sit,” he said. And he removed her shoes, stockings, and garters, his hands slipping up her legs beneath her chemise to caress her warmth.

  Elizabeth murmured a sigh of contentment, standing quickly, pulling him up, and unlacing the linen drawers he was wearing beneath his breeches today. He did not usually wear such a garment. He was completely naked. “Now,” she said wickedly to him, “I mean to have my way with you, sir.”

  “First, madame, we must be equals in this matter,” he replied, drawing her chemise over her head so that she was naked too, “for I mean to have my way with you too, Elizabeth Meredith Hay, my love, my wife.” His arms tightened about her as their bodies pressed against each other. “Do you know how much I want you?”

  “Aye,” she responded to the question, her hazel-green eyes twinkling. “Your desire is already in evidence, my love. Much, much in evidence.”

  His dark head descended, and he gave her a slow, deep kiss, his tongue pushing easily past her lips to plunge into her mouth. Together their tongues danced in a ballet of wet longing. Elizabeth sighed a long sigh. His hands cupped her face and he spread kisses across it, his mouth brushing her closed eyelids, her cheeks, returning to her mouth to drink the nectar of her rising passion. Raising his head he whispere
d to her, “I love you! I love you!”

  Tears crept from beneath her thick lashes, but her eyes remained closed. “I have never been so happy, Baen. Swear to me that you will never leave me again. Swear!”

  “Open your eyes and see the truth of my vow,” he told her, and when their eyes met he said, “Only death will ever part us, Elizabeth, and that I cannot control, but I will always love you. Even from beyond the grave! And I will never leave you again, except should death call me. But my love will always be with you.” Then, picking her up, he laid her in their bed, which smelled fresh with lavender.

  Elizabeth held out her arms to her husband, drawing him down into her embrace. “I love you, Baen, son of Colin.” And she smiled sweetly into his face.

  He cradled her now with an arm, and a large hand reached out to caress her breasts. They were fuller now than he remembered, and then he thought of his son, who nursed lustily at those beautiful breasts. His tongue snaked out to lick at one of her nipples. Almost at once a droplet of milk oozed out. Unable to control himself, he closed his mouth over the nipple and suckled it, swallowing the liquid that poured forth into his mouth, almost choking him. Was it wrong? he wondered. But he could not cease, and Elizabeth did not forbid it. Even when he had drained the breast dry he was unable to tear himself away from it for a few moments. It was one of the most exciting experiences he had ever known.

  His fingers pushed themselves between her nether lips, and he found her wet with her own desire. He played with the sensitive flesh, rubbing at the jewel of her sex until she was whimpering and her juices were flowing even more. He met her gaze and put those wet fingers in her mouth. Her eyes widened with surprise. “The taste of you is intoxicating, wife,” he growled. “I must have more!” Then his dark head pushed between her thighs, and he began to greedily feast upon her.

  Elizabeth cried out with surprise, shocked to feel his tongue on her most secret flesh. Then she realized she was enjoying the sensations he was creating within her. She heard herself begging him not to stop, and he didn’t. Her fingers kneaded the thick, dark hair on his head, digging into his scalp. His tongue moved to lick at her thighs, and then pushed into her love channel. She almost screamed with the thrilling little shivers racing down her spine. “Baen!” She cried his name, but he was so lost in his lust for her that he barely heard her voice.

  Now, unable to restrain himself any longer, Baen mounted his wife and drove himself deep into her warmth. He was consumed by her, and did not hear her cry of pain, for she was still sore from the birth of their son almost two months ago. But she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her. Elizabeth wrapped her legs about his thick torso, her fingernails raking down his back in her desire as she caught the rhythm of their shared desire. Never, she thought dreamily, had their pleasure in each other been so great. “Baen! Baen!” she cried his name aloud, and the infant in the cradle by the fire stirred.

  “Let go!” he groaned in her ear. “I cannot wait much longer, wife! Let go!”

  “Together!” she hissed at him, squeezing his lance within her.

  He cried out even as her head began to spin with lust fulfilled, and her body was racked with deep, strong shudders as his pent-up love juices exploded to fill her. Their short, hard pants of mutual satisfaction burst forth as he rolled off of her and lay by her side. Reaching out, he took her hand and, bringing it to his lips, kissed it.

  Young Tom began to complain of his hunger.

  Elizabeth struggled from their bed and, going to the cradle, lifted her son out. Coming back to the bed she laid him upon it and changed his nappy. Then, picking him up, she sat down upon the edge of their bed and put her infant to her full breast.

  “Will he be satisfied?” Baen asked, feeling just a small modicum of guilt.

  “For now, but he’ll waken in a shorter time, I fear,” Elizabeth admitted.

  “Find a wet nurse,” Baen said.

  “Why? I am capable of feeding him,” Elizabeth protested. “I don’t want him in a village cottage where he could grow ill.”

  “Bring the wet nurse here,” Baen replied. “She can live within the house and feed him here. I do not want to futter my wife with my son nearby. Nor do I want to share your beautiful breasts with him, Elizabeth.”

  “Not yet, Baen,” Elizabeth said. “By Twelfth Night, I promise.”

  “By Michaelmas,” he countered. “I will wait no longer.”

  “You said you would not leave me ever again,” she cried, and the infant at her breast protested the timbre of her voice.

  “I won’t,” he said pleasantly. “I’ll just beat you for disobeying me,” Baen told her with a wicked smile.

  “You wouldn’t!” Elizabeth cried.

  Again he smiled. “Do you wish to test my word, wife?”

  Elizabeth looked hard at him. He did appear to be quite serious.

  “Friarsgate belongs to you, but you, my darling, belong to me. In the eyes of the law, and in the eyes of the church,” he said.

  “That is not fair!” Elizabeth said.

  “No, it is not, but I will invoke my husbandly privilege if you do not obey me. You do not want me finding a wet nurse and bringing her into the house, do you? Better you ask Maybel’s advice, and share the chore with her. You know I love you, and I love our son, but I will not share my bedchamber longer than necessary with our bairn. Shall I speak to Maybel, or will you? Tomorrow, Elizabeth.”

  “I never knew you were a bully, Baen,” she muttered, cradling young Tom against her chest. “I would not have married you had I known.”

  “Nor did I know what a little shrew you can be, Elizabeth, my love, but I would have wed you anyway,” Baen responded.

  Elizabeth laughed. “Damn me, husband, if we are not well matched, for I say we are. But if we futter so often we could find ourselves with another bairn. Is that what you want, Baen? More children?”

  He grinned. “Aye,” he drawled. “But let us make a daughter next, Elizabeth.”

  She laughed. “I cannot become enceinte if I am nursing, it is said,” she teased him.

  “Michaelmas,” he repeated, and a single big finger reached out to stroke their son’s dark head.

  In the morning before her mother departed Elizabeth sought her out. “Tell me the secret you possess to prevent a child too quickly,” she said.

  Rosamund smiled. “Ask Nancy, my darling, for I have already given her the recipe. She is shocked, of course, but also curious to see if it will work. It will.”

  “Baen wants me to find a wet nurse for young Tom, Mama,” Elizabeth told her mother. “One who will live here in the house.”

  Rosamund nodded. “Humor him, but begin your special elixir immediately.”

  “I will nurse young Tom until Michaelmas,” Elizabeth said.

  “Do not believe that old wives’ tale about nursing woman being infertile,” Rosamund warned her daughter. “It is not necessarily true. I was still nursing you when I became enceinte with your brother who perished.”

  “Oh, dear!” Elizabeth murmured.

  Rosamund grinned conspiratorially. “Heed my advice, Elizabeth. Today.” Then she kissed her daughter. “Farewell, my darling. I am content that I finally leave Friarsgate in two pairs of most excellent hands.”

  “Because of Baen?” Elizabeth said with a small smile.

  “Aye, but also because Friarsgate now has a new heir, and the hope of more to come,” Rosamund Bolton Hepburn said with a smile.

  Chapter 16

  A year and a half had passed since young Thomas Hay’s baptism. Friarsgate was locked in another winter. Candlemas had passed, and the lambs were being born once more in the February snows. Elizabeth and Baen were locked in a struggle to keep the manor safe and prosperous, for this particular winter was proving a cruel one. They were therefore very surprised when on the last snowy day of the month a messenger arrived at their door. As he was brought into the hall by Albert, who took his cloak, Elizabeth saw that the man wore the royal livery. A sense
of foreboding gripped her.

  “Come in, sir, and welcome,” she greeted him, signaling a servant for wine.

  The messenger came directly to her and bowed low. “Have I the honor of addressing the lady of Friarsgate?” he asked.

  “I am she,” Elizabeth replied.

  “I bring you a message from the queen, madame,” the messenger responded.

  “Queen Katherine? What can she possibly want with me?” Elizabeth said aloud, voicing her thought.

  “Nay, madame. The princess of Aragon is no longer queen. ’Tis Queen Anne from whom I come.” He reached into his doublet and drew forth a packet, handing it to Elizabeth with another bow.

  “You will be hungry, sir, and tired,” Elizabeth said as she accepted the packet. “Albert will show you to the kitchens for a hot meal, and then he will give you a warm bed space here in the hall. You must remain with us until the weather clears.”

  “I was instructed to return directly from you with an answer to the queen,” the messenger told Elizabeth.

  The lady of Friarsgate nodded. “Of course,” she said, “but you shall not go until the storm is over, sir.”

  “Thank you, madame,” the messenger said and, turning away, followed Albert out of the hall.

  “Queen Anne?” Baen looked puzzled.

  “My only friend at court, Anne Boleyn. She did vow she would be queen one day,” Elizabeth said slowly. “I shall not know anything until I have read the letter she has sent to me.” She looked down at the packet in her hand for a long moment. Then she broke the red wax seal and unfolded the oiled parchment. There was Anne’s familiar careless scrawl. Elizabeth focused her gaze on the words.

  I am his wife as I said I would be. And I am to be crowned in June. I will tell you all when I see you, and you cannot refuse my command. I am your queen now. I am surrounded by the ambitious, and those who formerly professed to despise me now toady to me in an effort to gain my favor. I pretend to give it, but you know me better, dear Elizabeth. I need your friendship now more than I have ever needed it. But I do not beg. You are commanded to court, my lady of Friarsgate. I want you here in time for my coronation, and other things. You will arrive no later than the twentieth day of May. We will be at Greenwich as we always are. Return my messenger with word of your plans. Anne R.