In the beginning the queen’s party had lost ground because of the very nature of Elizabeth herself. Then came the disclosure regarding Lady Eleanor Butler, and though none could be found to refute the charges, despite the lady in question being deceased now, Richard still did not seek the throne. The throne was offered to him in order that there be no doubt cast upon England’s rulers. He had demurred at first, disliking the position in which he found himself, knowing that there were those who would protest this removal of his beautiful golden brother’s eldest son. In the end he had accepted, for there was no other choice. He had stamped out the protest by immediately executing those who could continue the strife, thereby weakening England, making her vulnerable to France, to Spain, to Scotland. Lord Hastings, who had earlier supported him, was one of his victims, and Richard wept at this ruthless necessity.
Now he was an anointed and crowned king, and his beloved Anne had been crowned queen. Little Neddie was invested as the new Prince of Wales, and Elizabeth Woodville Grey was stirring up trouble in the south from the safety of her sanctuary. His nephews were hidden safely, though not in the Tower, as many supposed. They were far too vulnerable in the Tower. He had arranged that their warders be given drugged wine, and then he personally escorted young Edward and Richard, the younger lad who was his namesake, from their quarters in the Tower and sent them here to Middleham. They were bright children, and they had understood the need for secrecy. They were safe within their own wing of the castle, and carefully shepherded over the next few years until his kingdom was secure, they would be kept hidden from everyone, even his own son, their cousin, who made his residence here.
Another day. He promised himself one more green and gold September day here at Middleham before he would take up his king’s mantle again. And he must settle the matter of little Arabella Grey, for he had promised Row that he would. Who? Who among his people was highborn enough, but not a great name, for Arabella did not merit a great name. Who was without wife? Who was a widower? Who could he trust with Greyfaire Keep? Trust to warn the Middle Marches of the coming Scots. Who would keep faith with him and not pledge his loyalty elsewhere?
Richard remembered a soldier who had fought with his brother and with him in the past. He was a northerner, the king remembered, but he could not remember the man’s name. Waving a servant to his side, Richard sent for Lord Dacre, who wasted no time in bowing himself into the private solar and accepted an offered goblet of wine. The king explained his difficulty. “I cannot,” he said, “for the life of me remember the fellow’s name. Wait! Jasper! ‘Tis his Christian name. Jasper! But Jasper what?”
“Sir Jasper Keane, my liege,” replied Lord Dacre.
“Aye, that’s the fellow!” The king grinned, pleased, then a frown crossed his features. “Is he wed, Dacre?”
“He has been widowed several times, my liege, but has no wife at the present time, to my knowledge.”
“Children?”
“Nay, Sire.”
“What’s his age? I would not force an old man upon the girl,” the king said.
“I am not certain, for we are not intimate, my liege, but I would say that Sir Jasper is nearing his thirtieth year.”
“A good age,” the king noted, “and he is a good fighter. What do you think, Dacre? Would he be a good choice to defend Greyfaire Keep, and would he make my wife’s young cousin a good husband? Is he to be trusted?”
“His loyalty is unquestioned, my liege, and I believe he would, indeed, be a good man to place upon the border in England’s interests,” replied Lord Dacre. He did not mention to the king Sir Jasper’s reputation with women, for Richard did not approve of such men. It was the one area in which he had disagreed with his late brother, who adored the ladies. Richard had always been loyal to his Anne, but he was unique in such behavior. England’s interests came before any form of morality, and so Lord Dacre remained silent on this matter.
“Has he lands of his own?” demanded the long. “His birth must be at least equal to my cousin’s.”
“His family has connections, distant however, with my own, and closer ties with the Percys,” Lord Dacre answered. “He has property of his own, but his home, Northby Hall, was recently burned to the ground in a savage, but isolated attack by the Scots. No one was killed, but his cattle, horses, and sheep were all driven off. He’s a good man, my liege, and I imagine such a fine match would cheer him greatly and bind him even closer to your side.”
“A king,” observed Richard, “cannot have too many friends, eh Dacre?”
Lord Dacre laughed politely. “Sir Jasper is here at Middleham, my liege, should you decide to favor him.”
“Is there anyone else, Dacre, to whom I might give this rich plum? The girl won’t be marriageable for at least two years, and will have no formal betrothal lest they do not suit. My queen is firm upon this point, having suffered from personal experience in an unhappy marriage. She would have her cousin’s child happy, and I am inclined to give her this small boon, for Anne asks for very little.”
Lord Dacre thought for a time and then replied, “Nay, Sire, I believe Sir Jasper is eminently suited for both Greyfaire Keep and as little Lady Grey’s husband.”
“Say nothing of this,” the king warned him. “I must think on it further before I make my decision.”
“As my liege commands,” Lord Dacre said, and bowed himself from the king’s presence. He had no sooner left the royal solar than he hurried to find Sir Jasper Keane to tell him of his possible good fortune. “Keep your cock under control,” he warned Sir Jasper, “that the king does not hear of your loose behavior. He will not award you the girl and her lands should he learn of your extreme penchant for female flesh. King Richard III is a moral man.”
“I know of Greyfaire Keep,” Sir Jasper replied. “It is a cozy little castle. Is the heiress rich?”
“There is some small wealth, but were she rich, my friend, I should have had her for my own bastard son,” came the answer. “You will not be uncomfortable, but the king will not have the wedding for a year or two. It pleases his queen that the girl like you. If she does not, there will be no wedding. Be warned.”
In the Great Hall of Middleham Castle that night the king called Sir Jasper Keane to his side and told him that he would match him with his wife’s young cousin, the heiress of Greyfaire Keep, Lady Arabella Grey. Expressing his delight at this honor, Sir Jasper pleased his liege lord, showing no displeasure at the terms to be imposed.
“Shall I be permitted to meet my bride, Sire?” he asked politely.
“I see no reason why not,” the king replied. “I will ask you to escort Lady Rowena and her daughter, Lady Arabella, back to Greyfaire that you may judge the condition of its defenses and make any changes you so desire. This keep is the first warning beacon upon my borders with Scotland, and the safety of Middle Marches depends on Greyfaire Keep remaining in English hands.”
“I will not fail you there, my liege,” Sir Jasper replied with complete sincerity. He was a soldier first, and the challenge presented him was a pleasing one. He did not fear that the little girl would not like him, for he had never met a woman who did not like him. Tall, with bright gold hair and light golden-brown eyes, few females looked past his pleasing features with his oval face, high cheekbones and forehead, straight nose, dimpled chin, and sensuous mouth, to see that those eyes were cold and fathomless. That the sensuous mouth could grow narrow with cruelty. He was as skilled a seducer as he was a soldier, although as a soldier he had never been known to take a foolish chance. A man did not live to enjoy the fruits of his labor by being reckless and foolish in war. Only in passion did a man dare to be reckless.
“Come to the queen’s solar tomorrow morning after the Mass, Sir Jasper,” the king said, “and you will be introduced to your proposed bride and her widowed mother.”
“Thank you, my liege,” Sir Jasper Keane replied.
“And be prepared to leave immediately afterward for Greyfaire Keep,” the king said
. “It will take you a week or more traveling with the ladies to reach there. You are not used, I would imagine, to traveling at such a slow pace, but it will give you time to get to know Lady Rowena and her daughter. It is best you leave tomorrow before the autumn rains begin. The ladies will not like traveling in the rain.”
“I shall endeavor to make the trip as easy and as pleasant for the ladies as possible, my liege,” Sir Jasper replied, and he gave the king a warm smile.
In the morning Sir Jasper Keane made it a point to attend early Mass that he might secretly observe his bride-to-be and her mother. They were obviously amongst the women attending the queen, but all he was able to see was the backs of heads and gowns. It was not until the queen departed the chapel with her ladies that Sir Jasper saw the petite girl with the pale hair, the only child, excepting the little prince, amongst the others. This then was his bride, but which of the ladies was his mother-in-law he could not tell. Waiting for a few discreet minutes, he finally made his way to the queen’s solar and was admitted.
Sir Jasper bowed elegantly to Queen Anne and kissed her hand politely. “Madame.”
“You have come that we may introduce you to our beloved cousin, Lady Rowena and her daughter, Arabella, whom the king has chosen as your prospective bride, my lord. Welcome,” the queen said.
“I am honored that you would consider allowing me this connection with your own family, my gracious lady,” Sir Jasper replied.
“What elegance of speech, my lord,” the queen answered him.”Why, you might be a clever courtier instead of the soldier my lord, the king, says you are. I am glad to know that Arabella’s husband will be a man who is able to use pretty words as well as a sharp sword, Sir Jasper, but I imagine you grow impatient to meet your bride. Come forward, dear child, that I may introduce you to Sir Jasper Keane. You, also, Rowena, for I know you will want to meet your son-in-law to be.”
Mother and daughter stepped forward and curtsied politely to Sir Jasper Keane. His bride was quite lovely upon closer inspection, but hair that pale had never really been to his taste. The mother, however, was another matter. The wheaten-colored hair was lovely, and her bosom, rounded where the child’s was flat, was delightfully enticing. He felt a familiar tightening, a stirring of interest in his nether regions, which his handsome face, of course, never betrayed. “I am honored, my lady Arabella, that you would consider me for a husband,” he said smoothly, taking the child’s hand in his and kissing it.
Her heart was pounding furiously, and she felt her cheeks grow pink and warm even as she met his gaze with her own cool green one. He was surely the most handsome man she had ever seen. She had absolutely no idea what she should say and felt extremely foolish as he released her hand.
“My lady Rowena.” Lady Grey’s hand was saluted. I shall swoon dead away, Rowena Grey thought, both horrified and thrilled by her reaction to this man. These were feelings that she thought had died with Henry, and yet she could feel the wetness between her thighs already. “I am grateful, my lord, that you have come to our rescue,” she said with far more calm than she was feeling. What kind of a woman was she to have such thoughts about the man who would be her daughter’s husband? God forgive her!
No one else would have seen these thoughts which she labored so hard to mask, but Jasper Keane saw them deep within Rowena’s light blue eyes. A young widow, he almost purred with his pleasure. A young widow hot and ripe for the plucking. Mother and daughter, his for the taking. He had never had both a mother and her daughter. The thought was almost unbearably exciting, and he thanked God that his clothing hid the state of his lust. He could imagine, but vividly, the entire scene.
Strangely, it was his bride-to-be who rescued him. “My cousin, Prince Edward, has given me a deer hound puppy,” she said. “It will have to stay here at Middleham until it is weaned, however.”
“Have you ever trained a dog, my Lady Arabella?” he asked her.
“Nay, my lord, but I watched my father, and FitzWalter’s son, Rowan, has a touch with the dogs, our kennel master says. FitzWalter says, however, that the kennel master, having no sons, would like to steal his from him. He says that Rowan will be a soldier like he has been, and if he is a very good soldier, he might one day be Greyfaire Keep’s captain too.”
The queen laughed. “As you can see, Sir Jasper,” she said, her tone doting, “my little cousin is full of news. I think she loves her Greyfaire even as much as my lord, the king, loves Middleham. I hope you will be happy together. When Arabella reaches her fourteenth birthday in another two and a half years, you may plan to wed with her, provided that she is of a mind to wed with you, but I am certain that if you treat her with loving kindness, she will be content to have you for her husband. If, however, she is not, you will be compensated by the crown for the time and care you have given Greyfaire Keep.”
“I shall do my best, my lady queen, to keep faith with your majesties,” Sir Jasper said.
Queen Anne nodded, satisfied. “Then it is settled,” she said, and turning to her cousins, kissed them both in farewell. Removing a small ring from her littlest finger, she gave it to Rowena. “Should you ever have need of my help, Rowena, send me back the ring,” she told her favorite cousin, slipping the little signet upon the other woman’s finger. “I will aid you as long as I shall live.” Bending down, she spoke softly to Arabella so that only the young girl might hear her. “Wed him only, my child, if you truly love him. If you find that you do not, do not be afraid to tell him no. I would not have you unhappy. These few years before we will allow your marriage to be celebrated will give you time to know the man.”
“He is most beautiful to look upon, madame,” Arabella said shyly.
“Beauty does not always mean goodness, little cousin,” the queen warned. “You must ever look beyond beauty for the truth.” Then she hugged Arabella hard, sending her cousins and Sir Jasper upon their way.
They took their final leave of King Richard and rode out from Middleham Castle on a warm and sunny late September morning. There were a dozen men-at-arms from Greyfaire who had escorted the women from their home, and Sir Jasper had another dozen men which added to their little troop, making it quite formidable. Watching them go from his place upon the castle’s ramparts, the king wished with all his heart that all his problems were as easy to solve as had been the matter of Lady Arabella Grey and Greyfaire Keep.
Chapter Two
Sir Jasper Keane could not remember when he had ever been so content in his entire life. A man could go soft living so comfortably, he thought, as he gazed with a pleased eye about the little hall at Greyfaire Keep. It was a pleasant place, with four windows that held real glass to keep out the winter winds which, even now, blew about the small castle. The stone floors were swept daily, their rushes and sweet herbs totally replaced, for Lady Rowena was an excellent housekeeper and could not abide evil odors. There were two fireplaces in the hall, and neither smoked. Consequently, the hall was relatively warm and cozy.
Before him upon the burnished oak table of the highboard was a polished pewter plate with a hollowed-out trencher of freshly baked bread. A silent servant ladled hot oat porridge into the trencher, while another set a second plate with bread, a wedge of cheese, and a slice of ham by his side, and a third filled his goblet with brown ale. Jasper Keane began to eat with good appetite, smiling as he discovered sweet chunks of dried apple in the cereal, for he had mentioned in passing to Lady Rowena that he did not care for the bland oat dish that was served daily each morning. It took but a word to Row, and she would immediately endeavor to correct the problem.
Sir Jasper Keane had been at Greyfaire Keep for five months now. He had been extremely pleased by what he had found upon his arrival. Everything was in good order, and FitzWalter, the keep’s captain, had immediately deferred to him, readily accepting him as Greyfaire’s new lord. Consequently, it would not be necessary to replace him or demote him, which relieved Sir Jasper. He did not intend to remain upon the border forever, and when he
went off, he would have two needs, to know that his home was in capable hands, and to have Seger, his own captain, by his side, for Seger was invaluable to him.
His little bride-to-be was an amusing, if somewhat outspoken girl, but there was time enough to correct her behavior. If he had one complaint, it was the fact that he had had to curb his behavior in order that these two females who held his future in their hands not take offense. He had refrained from using the keep’s women servants to service his needs, instead roaming the border for his amusement while the weather had remained clement. For the last few weeks, however, the weather had been foul, and he had been forced to remain within his walls.
His loins ached for a woman. He wondered if he might, now that several months had passed, seduce Rowena. That she desired him he had absolutely no doubt, although she struggled mightily to conceal her longing. He had no doubt that he was responsible for the increasingly long hours she spent in the keep’s chapel upon her knees, but he knew she had not confided her sinsto Father Anselm, their resident priest, for the cleric’s kindly manner toward Jasper Keane had not changed since their first meeting. Sweet Row, he had heard the king call her. Was she indeed sweet?
Jasper Keane’s eyes narrowed in contemplation. He imagined Rowena, whom he now knew to be four years his junior, naked. She had fine, full breasts and a still slender waist, he could see. She was small of stature, which he liked in a woman, and he did not imagine her legs would be long. Were her thighs soft and rounded? Her Venus mont pink and silky-skinned? Would her bottom be plump? He hoped so, for nothing irritated him more than a woman with skinny shanks. A woman with a fat rump displayed well the marks of his palm upon her fair flesh.
The Spitfire Page 4
