“Did ye think so?” she murmured with false innocence.
“Motherhood hae nae softened ye,” he replied, but his eyes were dancing wickedly.
“The bairns will be full soon,” she said. “Are ye hungry?”
“Aye!” His look was meaningful.
“I’ll see that the cook hae a good supper for ye, my lord, and then ye’ll want to sleep in yer own bed, I’m sure,” she said.
“I’ll want to sleep in yer bed,” he told her, and chuckled when she colored. “So, ye can still blush like a lass, even though ye’re a shameless hussy wi’ bairns of yer own, Flanna Leslie.”
She said nothing, but instead, after she had finished feeding her sons, she arose and told him, “I’ll go and prepare a bath for ye, my lord, for ye’ll nae get into my bed wi’ the stink of yer journey on ye. Angus, see his lordship is fed after his long ride.”
He sat by the fire, watching his sons sleep as the food was brought to the high board. Finally, at Angus’s urging, he went to eat. “She’s called young Brae after ye,” he noted to the big man.
“I think she called him after the first Earl of Brae who was Angus,” came the answer.
“I dinna know the first earl, but I do know ye,” Patrick said. “I prefer to believe that my son is named for his great-uncle.”
“Thank ye, my lord,” Angus Gordon said, and he felt tears behind his eyelids.
“Sit wi’ me, Angus,” the duke said, “and tell me how it went wi’ her. And why did Henry leave her?”
“She birthed yer sons easily. Her sister-in-law, Una Brodie, came to be wi’ her and was quite outraged at how simple it was for her.” Angus chuckled. “There was nae need for yer brother to remain after she hae had the bairns. She knew he was anxious to return to his own family at Cadby, and so she sent him off wi’ a troop of Glenkirk men to see him as far as the border, for Cromwell’s people hae been rooting about this summer.”
“But Una stayed?” he asked anxiously.
“Aye, ye couldnae get rid of her, for she fell in love wi’ yer sons. She was a great help to Flanna. We finally sent her home a month ago, when Aulay came complaining after his wife.” Angus chuckled.
The two men spoke companionably while Patrick ate, and then finally Aggie came to say that the duke’s bath was ready. He arose and went upstairs to their apartment. The tub had been set up in the dayroom before the fire, and to his surprise, Flanna was in it awaiting him. Aggie was suddenly nowhere to be found. The Duke of Glenkirk grinned, delighted, and quickly pulled his clothes off, leaving them in a reeking pile upon the floor.
“They should be burned, and those boots will nae do ye again,” Flanna noted pithily. She looked him up and down boldly. “Ye’re thinner.”
“Oatcakes dinna make a full meal,” he said, climbing into the tub with her.
“Be careful!” she warned. “I’ll nae hae the chamber flooded.”
“Then, come over here, madame, so I may kiss ye properly,” he ordered her.
“First ye wash,” she replied, squealing as he yanked her to him, and the water sloshed over the top of the tall wooden tub. “Patrick!”
“Ye hae gotten out of the habit of obeying yer lord and master,” he said. “I can see I must retrain ye.” Then he attempted to kiss her.
Flanna swatted him with the washing rag. “Lord and master, indeed, husband!” she half shouted at him, but she was smiling. “Jesu! Yer hair is filthy! ’Tis a breeding ground for nits most likely!” She quickly dipped her hand into the jar of soap and then slapped it upon his dark head. Her two hands began to work up a good lather even as he pulled her into his arms, kissing her very thoroughly until she was breathless and rosy.
“I sheltered wi’ Charlie’s mistress these past few weeks,” he told her. “She was most hospitable.”
“Charlie hae a mistress?” Flanna was half surprised, remembering her brother-in-law’s love for his wife, but then she was not entirely surprised, remembering his family’s reputation. “And just how hospitable was this woman to ye, Patrick Leslie?” She yanked him forward and pushed his head beneath the water, rinsing the soap from it.
He came up sputtering and laughing. She was jealous. She really did love him! “Verra to Charlie, merely kind to me, particularly in light of the fact she shot me,” he told his wife.
“She shot ye? What the hell did she shoot ye for, Patrick?” Now she saw the scar on his shoulder, and her fingers immediately went to it.
“It was dusk when we approached her house, which is verra isolated,” he began. “Before Charlie could identify us, a shot rang out, and I was the one it hit. Barbara is, I fear, a verra poor shot,” he chuckled.
“She could hae killed ye, the bitch!” Flanna exploded.
“Nay, she couldna, and she didna,” he said, putting his arms about her to comfort her. “And here I am back home wi’ ye, lassie, and safe in yer arms,” he said, kissing her brow.
“How do I know ye’re nae a ghostie?” she demanded.
He took her hand and drew it beneath the water to his burgeoning manhood. Her fingers closed about it, and it blossomed further beneath her touch. “Could a ghostie hae such a formidable and firm rod, lassie?”
She continued to caress him, her eyes half closing with her obvious pleasure. Her fingertips moved past his love lance to stroke at his twin jewels. “I need more proof,” she murmured in his ear, her teeth nibbling upon the fleshy lobe.
His hands sought her buttocks, and finding them, he cupped her, lifting her up to impale her upon his manhood. He felt himself sliding deep inside her and groaned with the simple enjoyment of his action. Her two wet hands now clasped his face between them, and she kissed him passionately and yet tenderly as he began to slowly piston her.
“Ah, lassie,” he groaned, “ye’re almost as tight as ye were on our wedding night.” He was going to die of delight.
She did not tell him that in her wanderings about the castle in his absence—while she waited for, and after the birth of their sons—she had found a small book of potions, salves, and amorous treatments to be used to keep one’s husband content. She wasn’t certain who had written the words down, but she was as pleased as he was that it was all working. Flanna closed her eyes, sighing with pleasure as they quickly reached their heaven together. “Oh,” she said to him, “ye’re surely nae a ghostie, Patrick Leslie, for nae ghostie could offer me such enjoyment.” Then she took up the bath brush and began to scrub him free of his travels.
And when they were both clean and dry, they repaired to their bed, lying naked, the golden light of the fire playing over their bodies. Patrick kissed his wife deeply, his tongue playing hide and seek with hers. He found himself unable to satisfy his deep longings for her easily. His lips touched her breasts lovingly, licking at the nipples until they pearled with her milk, sucking upon her until she was crying out with her longing for him.
“Oh, ye’re a wicked man!” she told him, half shocked, but also thrilled by his actions.
“And ye’re a delicious armful, my darling lassie,” he told her as he entered her again. This time, the edge off his carnal appetite, he moved slowly upon her, arousing her fires, bringing her almost to pleasure only to draw back. She cursed him much to his amusement. He reveled in the sharpness that her nails gave him as they raked down his long back in her desperation. He thrust deep and hard into her until she was practically screaming with the pleasure he was imparting. Her legs suddenly wrapped tightly about him, almost forcing the breath from him, and he slipped even farther into her than he ever had before. She tightened her love sheath about him in retaliation, knowing that he was about to explode his juices, and when she hotly whispered the single word, “Now!” into his ear, his passion for her erupted fiercely, flooding her secret garden and filling her womb with life.
Afterwards they lay together, her red-gold hair on his broad chest, and she told him, “We hae made another bairn, Patrick Leslie.”
“Ye’re certain?” he gently teased, dropping a
kiss on that fiery head of hers and thinking how very much he loved her.
“Aye,” she replied.
“Another son for Glenkirk, lassie. I will nae complain at that,” he told her.
“Nae a son, my lord. A daughter. This time we hae made a lass! Of that I am absolutely certain,” Flanna assured him.
“And what will we call her?” he asked, smiling.
“I dinna know yet, but I will on the day she is born,” Flanna told him.
“Nae until then?” he teased her.
She raised her glorious head and looked down at him, her silvery eyes suddenly very serious. “Nae until then,” she repeated. Then she kissed him, and Patrick Leslie thought none of it mattered at all because she loved him. They would know in time, and that was perfectly all right. He had by some miracle found the only lass he would ever really want. Whatever happened just beyond tomorrow was in the hands of the fates, and that was good enough for him. His hand wrapping about a hank of Flanna’s beautiful hair, he pulled her down and kissed her with all the love that had ever been stored in his heart, and when Flanna kissed him back in the exact same way, Patrick Leslie knew that whatever happened to the world about them, his life would always be perfect because of that autumn afternoon that he had strayed onto the lands of Brae and met its heiress.
Epilogue
Queen’s Malvern, Late Summer 1663
Jasmine, Dowager Duchess of Glenkirk, looked directly at her son Patrick and his wife, Flanna. “I want your daughter,” she said bluntly to them.
“Mam!” Patrick said, surprised. What the hell was this all about? he wondered, They had been at Queen’s Malvern six weeks.
“Which one?” Flanna asked, ever practical.
“Diana, of course,” came the answer.
“Diana is our eldest daughter,” Patrick protested. “What do ye want her for, Mam?”
“I want to save her from becoming any more of a wild creature than she already is,” Jasmine replied quietly. “Because she is your eldest girl, Patrick, and quite obviously your favorite, you have allowed her far more freedom than any young girl should have. She must be civilized if we are to make a good marriage for her eventually. Neither you, nor Flanna, as much as I love you both, can do for Diana what I can do for her. What matches have you considered for her?”
“She is only going to be eleven!” Patrick said.
“How like my father you are. It is as I thought,” Jasmine answered him. “You adore her so much that you do not consider the swift passing time. Suddenly she will be lying in the heather on some hillside with a perfectly unsuitable young man because she knows no better, and you have not bothered to make a good match for her. I cannot allow that to happen, nor can I see that exquisite child wasted on some rough Scot.”
“Ye dinna agree wi’ her?” Patrick turned in desperation to his wife.
“I do agree wi’ her,” Flanna answered him. “Diana is a Leslie, Patrick, but for all my title, I will always be Brodie-born. My mother died when I was Diana’s age, and I ran wild. Poor Una could nae tame me. Only that ye wanted Brae we would hae nae found each other. I canna teach Diana the things she needs to know to make the kind of marriage a Duke of Glenkirk’s eldest daughter should make. Yer mam can, and I am grateful to her that she is willing to take on the task. Do ye nae remember how wild Sabrina became in our care? Yet look what an elegant lady she has become now. See the fine marriage she made wi’ her Earl of Lynmouth, the beautiful bairns she hae. I want that for Diana, and one day for Mair, too. They are pure Leslie, both of them. As for Sorcha, she is a Brodie. I see it already, though she barely hae even a year. She’ll remain in our Highlands and wed wi’ a good man. Or perhaps she’ll go to the New World wi’ her younger brothers one day. She will hae that kind of adventurous spirit.” Flanna’s silver eyes met the beautiful turquoise ones of her mother-in-law. “Aye, ye may hae Diana, and I am glad that ye would hae her.”
Jasmine reached out and took Flanna’s hand in hers, her gaze a steady one. “You may not have elegant manners, my daughter, but you have what many who practice such civilities do not. You have nobility of spirit, which I believe a far more valuable asset to a woman. We have only just met this summer, my dear, but I see what a fine wife you have been to my son. I see the children you have given him. Five sons and three daughters. How Glenkirk’s walls must ring again with their laughter, and how much that means to their father. If I had picked a wife for Patrick myself, Flanna, I should not have done as well as he did by accident. Even if in the beginning it was for the wrong reasons.”
“When do ye want Diana?” the Duke of Glenkirk asked his mother.
“Immediately,” was the reply. “She does not need to return to Scotland when you do. Queen’s Malvern will be her home from now on, and until she weds one day.”
“Charlie is content with this?” Patrick queried. His mother could sometimes be a bit high-handed. She had never stopped being the Mughal’s daughter in all her seventy-three years.
“Charlie is delighted, as is Barbara,” Jasmine assured her son. “With Freddie at Oxford, and Willy serving the king as a page at court, they welcome a young relative in the house. Besides, Diana will be a fine companion for Cynara. They are so close in age, and gracious, you can certainly see they are cousins. Charlie’s wife is a very elegant woman, and Diana can learn much from her.”
“Charlie told me once that ye said a Duke of Lundy should nae wed wi’ a Hereford merchant’s daughter,” Patrick teased his mother.
“Not for a first marriage,” Jasmine returned, “but Bess is long dead these many years, and her children are grown. Charlie loves Barbara enough that he has formally legitimatized their daughter. Neither is in the first flush of youth any longer. I fully approved their marriage in June, for their own sake, and certainly for Cynara’s. She must, like Diana, take her proper place in society,” the dowager replied.
“So ye hae it all settled, eh, Mam? Autumn wi’ her Gabriel and their twin bairns. Twins obviously run in the Leslie line. Did nae my Leslie grandmother hae twins? Aye, she did, I remember. Henry and his family hae survived Cromwell’s rule, as hae the rest of us, now in our mid life and content. No more adventuring, Mam, eh?” The Duke of Glenkirk chuckled. “l wonder what Madame Skye would have thought if she could hae seen all her descendants here at Queen’s Malvern last month trampling over her lawns, meeting for the first time, making matches, discovering how much alike many of us are. Would she hae been pleased?”
“I think she would have been,” Jasmine said. “She was a woman who loved her family. Now, Patrick, I don’t want you to worry yourself about Diana. She will be perfectly happy here, and I will provide for her. With all your brood, you will not notice she is even gone.”
“Aye, I will,” the Duke of Glenkirk said softly, but he knew what his mother was doing for his eldest daughter was the right thing. Lady Diana Leslie was a very beautiful child who would grow up one day to be a beautiful woman. She didn’t belong in his Highland aerie. She belonged at court where she would attract a rich and powerful husband. Or a king. “Ye’ll teach her to refuse an improper advance from even the most powerful gentleman in the realm, will ye nae, Mam?” he said nervously.
Flanna laughed and patted her husband’s big hand. “She’ll nae be a naïve goosie like her mam, Patrick. Nae wi’ yer mother guiding her,” the Duchess of Glenkirk assured her husband.
Jasmine laughed too for she now knew the true story of Flanna’s meeting with a young King Charles in Perth twelve years back. They had not met since, nor were they likely ever to meet again; but the king had restored the earldom of Brae to the Leslies of Glenkirk for Angus Gordon Leslie, the second born of Flanna’s twin sons. Angus delighted in teasing his slightly elder sibling that while he would one day be the Duke of Glenkirk, he was only Lord Leslie, while Angus was already the holder of his own title. Such mockery did not please the future duke.
The next day on the ninth of August both Jasmine, and her granddaughter, Diana, celebrated
their birthdays. Several days after that the Leslies of Glenkirk along with their sons, James, Angus, Malcolm, Ian, and Colin; and their two remaining daughters, Mairghread and Sorcha, departed Queen’s Malvern for Scotland. Her brothers were hardly unhappy to leave Diana behind, but Mair, who was almost five, wept.
Diana stood next to her grandmother in the graveled drive watching as her family disappeared from her view. The shoes on her feet hurt, but her grandmother and Lady Barbara had both assured her that a lady wore shoes in public. She would miss her father most of all, and then Mair, but her grandmother had promised that Mair would eventually join them at Queen’s Malvern. Still, her cousin, Cynara Stuart, was already proving to be an interesting companion.
“Well,” Jasmine said when the dust from the Glenkirk party had finally dissipated, “we shall now begin.” She looked at her granddaughters with a twinkle in her beautiful eyes.
Diana smiled back a brilliant smile. “I cannot wait to meet the king,” she said,
“Nor I,” Cynara echoed.
Jasmine burst out laughing. I shall not be bored with these two headstrong vixens in my charge, she thought. Then she said, “In time, my ladies. In due time.” And taking the two girls by the hands she walked them back into the house.
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Copyright © 2002 by Bertrice Small
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7296-6
Just Beyond Tomorrow Page 34
