The Last Heiress (44 page)

What a coup for the bastard of a Highland chieftain with nothing to recommend him but his handsome face. Well, he had Friarsgate now.

Not quite as he had anticipated it, she was certain, but he would ride about the estate and be called master by her folk. His child would inherit it one day.

She rose heavily and seated herself behind the large table she used when she was working. Drawing out a map of her fields, she studied them carefully, deciding which field would be planted with what crop.

They were going to need more hay this year, she decided, marking the meadows that would grow it. Three fields to the west she decided to have planted with rye to replenish the soil there. Corn would go here, barley, and wheat there, she marked the fields. And several fields would be left to grow onions and shallots; peas, beans, and cabbage.

Though leeks were considered unhealthy by many, they had always been grown at Friarsgate since the time of Elizabeth’s Welsh father.

But she grew them in her own kitchen garden along with parsley, sage, and other herbs. Finally she was satisfied with her planning scheme.

She would have to consider whether they needed any seed. Usually they grew enough for the following year’s crop.

There was a knock upon her door, and it opened to reveal Baen. He stepped into the chamber and asked her, “Is there anything in particular you would have me do today, Elizabeth? I shall see Edmund tomorrow, and speak with the shepherds then.”

“Come in,” she beckoned him. She was feeling stronger now that she was doing something familiar. She was the lady of Friarsgate, no matter that she had a husband now. “Come and see what I have planned for the fields, and give me your council.”

He walked around the table to stand next to her and looked down at the map. “Why are these fields not to be planted?” he asked her, curious.

“Each year I leave several fields fallow and plant rye. It replenishes the soil,” she explained. “Doesn’t your father do that?”

“We don’t have fields such as yours, and ’tis all he can do to get a living out of what he has,” Baen said. “By the way, I haven’t had the time to tell you until now, but I brought you a dower portion.”

“Indeed?” A smile played about the corners of her mouth.

“Most of the sheep I bought from you last year, and their lambs,” he told her.

“Just most?”

“Those that weren’t lost by one means or another,” he said.

“Stolen? Eaten by your father’s cotters, or wolves? How many remain?”

“Actually about two-thirds of the flock,” he told her.

“You are a well-propertied man, husband,” Elizabeth responded, pleased.

“Well, they were yours to begin with,” he said.

“But you purchased them honestly,” she quickly replied.

“Several of your shepherds rode out early this morning for Claven’s Carn. It will take them a good day and a half to bring the flock home,” he explained. “The lambs were too young for the journey, and so we put them in a straw-filled wagon.”

“ ’Twas well done!” she exclaimed, very pleased.

“I expect they will be glad to be back at Friarsgate,” he said with a rueful grin. “Our Highland pastures are not the lush meadows of Friarsgate. The sheep had a harder time of it, I fear.”

“How many lambs?” she asked him.

“A dozen, no more, though the ram was vigorous,” he murmured.

She flushed, nodded, and then said, “I would like you to see if we kept enough seed for the fields.” She rolled up the map parchment.

“Take this with you when you visit the seed storage.” She handed it to him. “And if you have the time you might begin visiting the cotters who weave. Edmund can tell you who they are. Learn how much cloth each wove this winter. I must begin preparing for the shipment to our factor in the Netherlands. The cloth market is always happy to see Friarsgate wool arriving.” Then she turned away dismissively.

Baen walked from the library. She was all business, his bride of just a few hours. He wondered if other newlywed couples spent their wedding day as they were. She masked her anger well, but such icy hau-teur from a girl he knew to be a passionate creature amazed him. He would have a difficult time, he could now see, in winning her heart back, but he had no intention of giving up. Elizabeth was not going to forgive him easily, but then he had never been anything but honest with her. He made no secret of the fact that he would return to Grayhaven. Why was she angry at him for being loyal? He shrugged. She had to come around eventually. Didn’t she?

The next few weeks passed, and each day but for the Sabbath was like the last. They arose, broke their fast, and worked. The main meal of the day was at the noon hour. They ate, and worked until sunset. A final light meal was served, and then Elizabeth would disappear upstairs into her chamber. She rarely spoke to him except to issue orders or discuss the business of the manor with him. He had attempted to engage her in a game of Hare and Hounds on several evenings, but she had refused him. She was not openly hostile to him, and she listened to his advice when he spoke. But there was no rapport between them as there had once been, and she made no effort to cultivate one.

And with each passing day Elizabeth’s belly seemed to grow larger and larger. She was beginning to waddle about very much like the ducks in the barnyard. She was beginning to wheeze slightly when she walked. And her temper was growing shorter and shorter as the weeks went by. Baen was beginning to look forward to the return of his mother-in-law.

“This bairn you put in my belly is going to be a giant,” Elizabeth said irritably one evening. The stairs were hard for her now, and she was avoiding them for the moment.

“My father is a big man, I am a big man, and my brothers are too.

Still, Ellen, my stepmother, was tall and slim like you. She birthed Gilbert easily, for I was there,” he told her cheerfully. “Our son will be a big man.”

“It had best be a lad,” Elizabeth snapped, “for a girl this big would never find a husband, and be considered odd. And do not tell me your sister is large.”

“Nay, Margaret is small and delicate,” he answered her affably.

“She’s a nun, isn’t she?”

“Aye. Like your cousin,” he remarked.

“I think I should like to play a game with you,” she said. “Can you play chess?”

“Aye, I can. I’ll get the game table,” he said, hurrying to do so.

“I am restless tonight,” Elizabeth remarked.

He set up the game table between them and offered her her choice of pieces. She surprised him by taking the black. It matched her mood, he thought wryly. “So I am to be the white knight,” he said, amused.

“Isn’t that what my family thinks?” she snapped at him.

“I didn’t have to come back,” he replied sharply.

“But you did, didn’t you? The lure of Friarsgate could not be denied,” Elizabeth murmured sweetly.

“The marriage contract I signed says even if you die, and our child with you, God forbid”—he crossed himself—“Friarsgate will return to your mother. There was no advantage to marrying you, Elizabeth, but that I love you. But loving you becomes more difficult with each passing day. Your tongue is sharper than a sword. Aye, I left you, but then I always told you I would, for I am an honest man. I owed an allegiance to my father, and I thought you understood that. Until he released me from that loyalty I could not—would not—desert him. You might have sent to me and told me you were with child. You might have asked my father to favor a marriage between us. But you ignored your condition, and only when your mother saw it was my father called upon.”

“I am a woman,” Elizabeth cried. “Respectable women do not ask men to marry them, Baen! You were supposed to ask me!”

“Respectable women do not seduce their stewards, yet you did. And how could I ask you when my loyalty lay elsewhere? When I had nothing to offer you? God’s blood, Elizabeth! You’re the heiress of Friarsgate!”

“The pieces are set up,” she said coldly. “Shall we play?”

“Nay, damn it! We shall not!” he shouted, sweeping the game board clean with his big hand. Then he stormed angrily from the hall.

Surprised, Elizabeth watched him go. She had never before seen Baen exhibit any sort of anger, but his choler had been high, and his temper was hot as he left her. He was always leaving her, she thought self-pityingly. The tears began to roll down her cheeks. Well, why would he remain? She was fat, and not pleasant to be around at all these days. She was hardly the bold girl who had debauched him all those months back. What had ever possessed her to do such a thing?

she asked herself for the hundredth time. She would have been better off an old maid than what she was now. The child within her stirred restlessly, and Elizabeth wept all the more.

When he returned to the hall he found her asleep in her chair.

Baen stood watching her for several long minutes. She was so beautiful, even with her big belly. Sadness overtook him. He had hoped that by now her attitude would be softening towards him. They could not live their lives at each other’s throats. Not once their son was born. A boy learned the important things he needed to know from his father, but if he had no respect for that father there would be great difficulty.

And unless Elizabeth’s stance towards him changed, there was little likelihood of his son respecting him. The lad would be the next heir to Friarsgate, and he would be treated from his birth with much defer-ence. But in just a few short years that child would understand what existed between his parents. Better it be love.

Reaching out, he touched her shoulder to waken her. “Elizabeth,”

he said softly, “let me get you to bed.” And he picked her up in his arms and walked across the hall.

She stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. “What are you doing?” she asked him sleepily. “Where am I?”

“You fell asleep by the fire,” he explained. “I’m taking you to your chamber.”

“I can walk,” she protested, struggling faintly in his grasp as he began to ascend the stairs. “I am not an invalid!”

“The stairs are difficult for you now,” he replied, his arms tightening about his burden. “You are tired, lass. The burden of your lands is great, I know.”

“I am capable of it even with my belly,” she retorted.

“Aye, you are. I have never known a stronger woman, Elizabeth.”

They had reached the top of the stairs. He moved quickly towards her chamber, kicking at the door with his booted foot.

Nancy was there almost immediately, opening the door, gasping as Baen entered with his wife.

He set her down gently. “She fell asleep in the hall,” he explained.

Then he kissed Elizabeth on her forehead, and without another word left her.

“Ain’t he sweet,” Nancy said. “He’s the best-tempered man I’ve ever known, mistress. You’re a lucky woman.”

“I want to go to bed,” Elizabeth said low. “Get me out of this tent I’m wearing.”

Nancy said nothing more, but her grin said everything. Elizabeth was hard-pressed not to slap her. She struggled out of the enveloping garment, washed herself in the basin on the table, and climbed into bed. “I’ll want a bath in the morning,” she told her servant.

“You can’t possibly climb into that tub now,” Nancy protested.

“Then bring the small one we used as children. And several extra buckets. I’ll stand in it, but I must wash myself. The scent surrounding me is not a pleasant one,” Elizabeth said. “Good night, Nancy.” She closed her eyes. She couldn’t turn over onto her side, for her belly was simply too large now. She heard the door close as Nancy left her. Elizabeth lay wakeful now. Baen had spoken some hard truths this evening, and for the first time in weeks she had listened. She had seduced him because she wanted him for her husband, and now he was.

Had been for six weeks. Why was she still angry at him? He was an honorable man, but she was still not certain despite his avowals that he really loved her. And she did want to be loved, even as her mother and sisters were loved.

She accused him—and she knew wrongly—of wanting Friarsgate.

But he had never really exhibited any venality towards her lands. Indeed, he treated her with the respect due her station, and always had.

He did his duties as her steward, and her people liked and respected him in turn. She had heard them addressing him as master. What was the matter with her that she could not forgive him? The bairn within her stretched himself, and she winced with the slight pain. Her hands went to her belly, and she rubbed it soothingly. The bairn quieted.

“Ah, you are going to be like your da, young Tom,” she said softly.

She had decided to name a son after the uncle she loved so. Both of her sisters had added Thomas to their sons’ names, but they were Henry Thomas and Robert Thomas. Her son would be Thomas Owein Colin. She did not know her father-in-law, and it was unlikely she would ever meet him, but she knew he would be pleased that his first grandchild bore his name. And her mother would be pleased that Elizabeth honored the father she did not remember. Her hands smoothed about her belly as she tried to imagine what the child would look like.

Would he be his father’s image? Or would he look like her? Finally her eyes began to grow heavy again, and she slept.

And in the chamber next to hers, Baen lay restless. For the briefest moment as he carried his wife upstairs she had relaxed in his arms, her blond head against his shoulder. All her anger was gone for those few moments, and the Elizabeth he loved had rested safely in his arms.

And it had been wonderful! He wanted it to be like that all the time.

He wanted their old relationship back. And whatever he had to do to attain that goal, he was going to do. But finding the key to the conundrum that was Elizabeth was not going to be an easy one. He slept at last.

As the month of May drew to a close, Rosamund rode over the hills from Scotland into England to be with her youngest daughter when she gave birth to her first child. She was amazed at how Elizabeth’s belly had grown since she had seen her last. And the poor girl’s ankles were swollen dreadfully. Hugging Elizabeth, she scolded her gently.

“You should not be on your feet so much now, child,” she said.