Finale (The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition Book 12)

by Anna Markland

  Tears welled in many an eye when everyone rose and echoed the good wishes. The regard and respect on the faces of knights, ladies, castle-folk and guests, was a testament to the Montbryce family and to Barr himself.

  She’d rarely seen him blush, but his face reddened as he stood to acknowledge the toast. “Hollis and I thank you for your good wishes, and I offer my everlasting gratitude to my parents for their love. It was my great good fortune to be born into this family. I especially appreciate Papa keeping his remarks short.”

  Amid cheers and laughter, he held out his hand and bade her rise. “Now, you will understand if my wife and I leave you. We have urgent matters to attend to.”

  The cheering became a deafening roar as he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the hall.

  A Bedding

  Barr carried his bride into the chamber he’d slept in since childhood. After Belinda’s death, he’d instructed Bonhomme to remove all traces of her, and gradually adorned the walls with military trophies and weapons of war.

  In the sennights leading up to his marriage to Hollis, the chamber had again been transformed into a less masculine place. Most of the weapons were gone and his mother had assisted in the selection of tapestries that now warmed the walls. She’d also suggested replacing the dark red damask bedspread with a softer blue and providing an armoire for Hollis.

  He hoped his bride’s first impression of the chamber would be a good one. He wanted everything about the surrender of her virginity to be memorable. His first wedding night had been unforgettable, but not in a good way. Belinda had wept at the loss of her maidenhead and he’d barely slept afterwards, plagued with a vague sense of disappointment—in himself and the future of his marriage. It was difficult then to understand the reasons he wasn’t to be blessed with the same all-consuming passion his parents constantly boasted of sharing. He understood it now. Belinda wasn’t his soul mate any more than he was hers.

  He was glad the hearty fire burning in the hearth had chased away the winter chill, but admitted inwardly he was nervous. He had to keep reminding himself Hollis wasn’t Belinda.

  “What a lovely chamber,” his bride gasped, tightening her grasp around his neck. “I detect your mother’s fine hand.”

  He set her on her feet, but held her close. “I fear nothing will escape your notice,” he teased, resting his forehead against hers. “Therefore, I know you’re wondering why I haven’t arranged for your maidservant to attend you.”

  She put her arms around his waist and pressed her hips against him. “Because you want to undress me yourself.”

  “I do,” he rasped, “but, if you keep that up, I’ll spill like a green lad before I get my wedding finery off.”

  He regretted the coarse remark as soon as it was out of his mouth but, to his relief, she laughed heartily. “I apologize,” he said. “That’s no way to talk to my virgin wife.”

  “I may be a virgin,” she countered, pressing her ear to his heart, “but I’m not a prude, and I have brothers who’ve never been shy about speaking of such matters in my presence.”

  Even so, he doubted she fully understood the havoc she was creating in his balls. He decided action would prove more effective than trying to explain his need. “May I undress you, my lady wife?”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But only if you take off your clothes first.”

  His surprise at her brazen statement lasted only moments, replaced by a smug male assurance she would be impressed when he disrobed. He’d married a playful woman and his heart soared at the prospect of the games they would enjoy together.

  Hollis wasn’t entirely sure what had come over her, but the glint in Barr’s eyes and his eagerness to comply with her wanton demand was reassurance enough he wasn’t shocked.

  Indeed, it was she who gaped, speechless at the sight of the magnificent male who stood naked before her after slowly and deliberately divesting himself of his clothing.

  She’d understood from the hard flesh beneath her hand at the banquet that Barr’s male part would bear no resemblance to John and Arthur’s little appendages. However, the length and girth of the thick lance at the apex of his thighs took her breath away. “In truth, I’m more than a little apprehensive,” she admitted hoarsely. “You’re…”

  His shoulders relaxed. For all his proud stance, it dawned on her he craved assurance she was impressed. At heart, men weren’t so different from little boys, after all.

  He took a step towards her, arms spread wide. “I’m a big man, but it’s no cause for alarm. I’ll make sure you’re ready before we join our bodies completely.”

  She nodded, remembering only too well the throbbing need to have him inside her when he’d brought her to ecstasy at Barham Court. “I trust you,” she whispered.

  He stroked the backs of his fingers along the décolletage of her gown. “It seems to me you enjoyed watching me disrobe.”

  “I did,” she confessed.

  “I want to watch you.”

  Her nipples tingled; wet warmth pooled in an intimate place. Every female part of her body screamed Yes, yes. Appreciating belatedly the countess’s insistence the wedding gown not have fastenings, she slipped off her shoes, then bent to lift the hem.

  Despite being designed to come off over her head, the dress was cumbersome. She struggled when the material balked at breasts that suddenly seemed twice as big as usual. Feeling foolish, she let out an exasperated sigh, relieved when Barr chuckled and helped her the rest of the way.

  She stood before him clad only in hose and a silk shift she knew was nigh on transparent. More or less naked, she was nevertheless burning with desire. “The fire has made me hot,” she fibbed.

  He smiled, but his blue eyes darkened. He brushed his thumbs over the nipples pouting at their silk confinement. “Hollis,” he rasped. “My one and only love.”

  A molten river carried her away. When he bent to suckle both nipples, each in turn, she gripped his shoulders to save herself from drowning. He carried her to sit on the edge of the bed. “Lie back,” he said, kneeling on the wolfskin rug. “I’ll remove your hose.”

  Reluctant to take her eyes off the chiseled planes of his broad chest, she nevertheless obeyed, clutching the blue damask as his knowing fingers played havoc with her senses. He came tantalizingly close to her pulsing woman’s place before freeing the garters and rolling the hose down each leg. Her heartbeat throbbed in her throat when he bent each knee in turn and settled her feet on the bed. The silk chemise slid towards her hips. She clamped her knees together, lest he see a part of her body she’d never seen herself.

  “Open your legs,” he whispered.

  She hesitated, having no idea of a man’s expectations. Would he like what he saw?

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said, coaxing her knees apart.

  She slowly obeyed, startled when he growled, lifted her legs over his shoulders and put his mouth on her. “I’m wet,” she protested, touching her fingertips to his silky hair.

  He suckled and licked like a thirsty man delivered from the desert. Perhaps he’d spoken true when he said men liked wetness.

  She lost the inclination to worry about it when his tongue flicked a certain spot and she writhed with a pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable.

  Hollis’ sweet, yet savory taste, mingled with the elusive scent that always clung to her, filled Barr’s senses and turned his arousal to granite. He inhaled deeply, nuzzling his nose into the silken curls at her mons. “You taste and smell wonderful,” he rasped.

  “La…la…lavender,” she stammered, clearly enjoying his tongue’s affections.

  He’d an urge to crow like a rooster. There’d be no tears of shock and disgust from this bride. From henceforth, every whiff of lavender would turn him into a rutting fool.

  She’d released before at Barham Court when they were both tense and fearful of what might happen in Canterbury. Confident of carrying her into rapture this night of nights, he went back to feasting on her maiden’s
juices and teased her opening with his fingers, first one, then two…in and out…slowly.

  “Faster,” she growled seductively in a deep voice laden with passion. “It’s com…coming.”

  When her body stiffened, he moved his fingers within her and looked up. He swallowed the lump in his throat as ecstasy blossomed on her beautiful face and she keened her release with a long, breathless wail that echoed in his heart.

  Panting, she opened passion-filled brown eyes, stretched out her arms and smiled. “Fill me,” she whispered.

  Needing no more encouragement, he sprang up from the floor, lifted her further onto the bed, positioned his manhood at her opening and thrust home. She was tight and he wondered vaguely if she was in pain when he felt her maidenhead tear, but she entwined long legs around his hips and clung to him, grunting his name. It was as well, since his urgent need to mate with her had shredded every vestige of control.

  Her body heated and, as he hoped, she screamed out another release at the moment his seed erupted from his body. Love carried him into a previously unknown realm, full of bright colors and the promise of lasting contentment.

  He had taken her virginity, but she had claimed him body and soul, and made him whole again.

  Epilogue

  Montbryce, Two years later

  Hollis reluctantly accepted the parchment bearing the royal seal. She’d dreaded learning its contents ever since the royal herald had delivered it to Montbryce earlier in the day.

  “Let me take Becket,” her husband suggested, reaching for their toddler son squirming in his mother’s arms.

  “Or you could just read the king’s missive to me,” she replied.

  He hefted Becket onto his hip. “Non. You’ve waited nigh on two years to learn your brother’s fate. It’s for you to read.”

  She picked at the red wax of the impressive seal. “John and Arthur should be here.”

  Barr shook his head. “I think they’ve become resigned to never seeing their father again after all this time, but I’ll sit down with them to explain the Pope’s decision, no matter how harsh.”

  “You’re a better father than Hugh ever was,” she murmured. “You even helped the boys understand why he was excommunicated over a year ago.”

  Barr patted Becket’s bottom. “And I’ve explained his pilgrimage to Rome to confess his sin to Pope Alexander directly and seek his forgiveness. They are intelligent boys who understand what motivated Hugh to do what he did.”

  She gritted her teeth. “Well, I never will.”

  Becket held out his arms to her. “Maman.”

  Barr walked away, lifting his son in the air, but the child kept on wailing, flexing his little fingers in his mother’s direction. “As stubborn as his namesake,” her husband remarked.

  She smiled weakly. “Sometimes I wonder if naming him after the archbishop was the right thing.”

  Becket’s tears quickly turned to gurgling laughter when his father hoisted him onto his shoulders. “You know it was. We may not fully comprehend why the archbishop acted the way he did, but we would never have met were it not for him. Besides, the future Comte de Montbryce will bear the name of the Church’s newest martyr, a man revered by all of Christendom. Naught amiss with that. Now, open the missive.”

  Resigned, Hollis tore off the rest of the seal, unfurled the parchment and scanned the preamble. “It’s written in Latin for goodness sake…In the year of Our Lord…Reign of our glorious sovereign Henricus…” She rolled her eyes. “Here it is. His Holiness Pope Alexander III has decreed that Hugh de Moreville, William de Tracy, Reginald FitzUrse, Richard le Breton…”

  She frowned as she read the Pope’s decision regarding the fate of the four assassins who’d petitioned to be reinstated into the Church. “This can’t be right. I’m translating incorrectly.”

  Barr came to look over her shoulder. “Harsh is an understatement,” he said at length.

  Tears welled as she read out her brother’s sentence. “Fourteen years fighting in knightly arms in the temple at Jerusalem. It’s more than harsh. He’ll never return to see his boys again.”

  “Bien, he did murder an archbishop, a crime punishable by death. Read the rest. Henry apparently shares your opinion about the likelihood of his return.”

  Gooseflesh ran rampant when she learned the king had transferred the Lordship of Westmorland to her, until John attained his majority. “I don’t want this,” she shrieked, crumpling the parchment. “I don’t care about Appleby and Knaresborough. I’m content here.”

  Chin quivering, Becket stared wide-eyed and reached for her again.

  “He thinks you’re upset,” Barr said, passing the child into her arms. “He wants to console you.”

  “I am upset,” she replied softly, kissing Becket’s cheek. “I suppose ranting will only confuse him, and if King Henry has made up his mind…”

  “Exactly. We don’t have to go to England right away. I’ll appoint stewards to make sure all is kept in order until John can succeed. In fact, William and Martin are planning to leave for home soon. They’d be perfect for the task, and the Dunkelds aren’t far away.”

  She hugged Becket who immediately decided he preferred his father’s shoulders.

  Her husband took their son. “My parents are happy now I’ve sired an heir.”

  He put his free arm around Hollis when she leaned into him and patted the swelling of her belly. “And maybe a second son.”

  He shook his head. “Our daughter,” he whispered.

  “You think it’s a girl?”

  “I know it is,” he insisted, “and we will baptize her with the name Holly.”

  Perched on his father’s broad shoulders, Becket laughed.

  Postscriptum

  Dear Reader,

  This book is the 12th and final episode of The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition. However, it isn’t the last you’ll hear of the Montbryce family.

  Future series will document their stories over the ensuing generations as they cope with the political turmoil of life in medieval England and Normandy. Becket de Montbryce is already clamoring to have his story told. By the time he reaches his majority, Richard The Lionhearted will be king.

  I have published one novella about a 21st century descendant of the Montbryce clan. You can read her story in Hungry Like de Wolfe.

  And, if you’d like to know more about the Viking ancestors of the Montbryces who came to Normandy with the legendary Rollo, you can check out The Rover Bold, The Rover Defiant and The Rover Betrayed.

  If you’ve just been introduced to the family, you can catch up on their adventures in two collections, Volumes 1-4, and Volumes 5-8. Or you can follow Amazon’s link to their special pricing for the entire set.

  As you have realized, the FitzRams are an important part of the Montbryce saga. Redemption will introduce you to that family’s patriarch, Caedmon.

  Anna

  Historical Footnotes

  HOLLY

  Christians see a wealth of symbolism in this common shrub. The sharpness of the leaves recalls the crown of thorns worn by Jesus; the red berries serve as a reminder of the blood shed for salvation; and the shape of the leaves, which resemble flames, can serve to reveal God's burning love for His people. Since holly maintains its bright colors during the Christmas season, it naturally came to be associated with the Christian holiday.

  THE HOLLY AND THE IVY

  My dedication is taken from the words of this traditional English folksong.

  The holly and the ivy,

  When they are both full grown,

  Of all trees that are in the wood,

  The holly bears the crown:

  Chorus: O, the rising of the sun,

  And the running of the deer

  The playing of the merry organ,

  Sweet singing in the choir.

  The holly bears a blossom,

  As white as lily flow'r,

  And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,

  To be our dear Savior:
Chorus

  The holly bears a berry,

  As red as any blood,

  And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,

  To do poor sinners good: Chorus

  The holly bears a prickle,

  As sharp as any thorn,

  And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,

  On Christmas Day in the morn: Chorus

  The holly bears a bark,

  As bitter as any gall,

  And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ,

  For to redeem us all: Chorus

  THOMAS BECKET

  This story is based on actual historical events. Four knights murdered the archbishop in Canterbury Cathedral on December 29th 1170. I have not changed the names of the assassins, who later fled to Scotland and thence to Knaresborough.

  The de Moreville family hailed from the castle at Burgh-by-Sands near Hadrian’s Wall in Cumbria. (Notable as the place where King Edward I later died). Hugh had a sister and, according to some sources, the Lordship of Westmorland passed to her, but her name wasn’t Hollis. Nor, as far as I know, did Hugh sire two sons named John and Arthur.

  When they petitioned to be reinstated into the church after they were excommunicated, Pope Alexander III sentenced the four knights to fourteen years service in the Holy Land. A man named Hugh de Moreville stood hostage for the crusading King Richard I (son of Henry II) when he was captured by the Holy Roman Emperor in 1194. Genealogical records claim Hugh died around 1202 in Knaresborough. However, there is no definitive information regarding his activities after 1174.

  Edward Grim is the real name of a clerk from Cambridge who was seriously wounded when he rushed to defend Becket. He later wrote an eyewitness account of the murder that T.S. Eliot used as a basis for his play, Murder In the Cathedral.https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Edward_Grim%27s_account_of_the_Murder_of_Thomas_Becket