The coffin itself with the queen’s own arms upon it was carried by Scotland’s six senior earls, and after it came the king, bareheaded and all in black, followed by his sons, the youngest of whom was carried by his nurse, his two younger sisters, Margaret the spinster and Lady Mary Hamilton, the queen’s own ladies, the lords and ladies of the court, the royal servants, and all others who had official reason to be there.
“Why are there so many simple people?” Arabella asked her husband. “Surely they cannot have known the queen, and yet their grief seems genuine.’’ The Countess of Dunmor had never before taken part in such a great occasion, and she was not certain if it was all usual.
“The queen,” replied her husband in a low voice as they walked, “was generous wi’ her time and gave audiences to any who asked. When this was known, the ordinary folk began bringing their complaints to her. She never turned them away, and she never hurried them in their tales. She was also open-handed wi’ those in need, although she hid both her charity and her willingness to listen well, that she nae be taken advantage of by those who didna really need her. She was truly Jemmie’s better half, and God help Scotland now that she is gone.”
The high requiem Mass and the many prayers for the repose of the queen’s good soul took up most of the day, which, despite its gloomy outlook, was also warm with unusual midsummer heat. In the hours that followed, the press of too many people jammed into the abbey’s small church caused many to faint or even grow ill with the heat and the stench. The stench came from the court’s mourning clothing, which were so elegant and expensive that the garments were passed down from generation to generation. Most of the garments were made of velvet, which was too heavy a fabric for a summer’s day, and all of the doublets, robes, and gowns were heavy with embroidery. In the interim between important funerals these clothes were stored in airtight chests and dusted with pungent spices to kill several generations of body odors.
There was no air in the abbey church, and eventually, as the bodies of the mourners grew warm, not even the frankincense and myrrh wafted from the censers could overcome the rank reek of ancient sweat mixed with new. Arabella could feel the roil of her belly, and tried desperately to concentrate upon the mourning rosary of jet beads that the king had given members of his family, which now hung in her hands. Her head had begun to ache, and although food had been the furthest thing from her mind this morning when she had arisen, now, even with her upset stomach, she was beginning to feel quite hungry.
At last, to the grateful thanks of the many mourners, the state formalities were over. The king could not at this time abide the thought of returning to his beloved Stirling Castle, and so the court was to move to the place he disliked above all places, Edinburgh Castle. It was as if James Stewart felt in some way responsible for the death of his dearly loved spouse and was punishing himself.
The Stewarts of Dunmor moved along with the rest of the court to the capital city, where they had another town house, which was located on the High Street. Arabella liked Edinburgh, which she found an exciting and colorful place with its open markets and many merchant shops with their wide variety of goods from all over the known world. She did not, however, enjoy traversing the city streets, which were virtual open sewers, populated not only by respectable citizens and not so respectable citizens, but by dogs, pigs, and rats, as well as other assorted vermin. Arabella, like other ladies of the nobility, blocked the stench of the town by carrying a clove-studded orange called a pomander ball.
“Let’s go home to Dunmor,” the earl suggested to his wife as they idled away the early hours of the morning in their bed some two weeks after the queen’s funeral. It was the beginning of August.
“What of the king?” Arabella asked her husband. “He has virtually shut himself away from everyone in his grief. Is it wise to leave him to the mercy of his opponents now?”
“Jemmie must come to terms wi’ himself sooner than later, lovey. He will nae even see us now, and the court is in mourning for the next few months. Even the most militant of the earls will nae act against the king for the time being. It is a good time for us to leave, and besides, Arabella Stewart, there is something ye hae nae shared wi’ me yet that ye should,” the earl said, kissing the tip of his wife’s nose.
Arabella blushed prettily. “My lord, I am not certain of your meaning,” she answered him.
“Are ye nae with child?” His dark green eyes searched her face.
“I am not quite certain,” she said. “I must speak with your mother first. How did you know?” Her cheeks were still pink.
“Because everything about ye is important to me, lovey, and I have noted that ye hae nae had yer link wi’ the moon broken in at least two months now.”
“But perhaps ‘tis something else, my lord,” Arabella said. “I need very much to speak with your mother before I am certain. I have never had a child before, and I was but a wee girl when my mother was last with a child by my father and I did not know she was quickening with Sir Jasper’s child last summer.”
“Ye hae other symptoms, lovey,’’ he said with a doting smile. “Yer belly hae become fussy of late, and yer pretty titties are growing plumper and rounder. I hae planted my seed deep wi’in ye, and yer already quickening wi’ my son.’’ His big hand cupped her head, and he kissed her mouth warmly.
Her blush grew deeper, for even after having been married to this man for over a year, and having cohabited with him for the past eight months, she was still a little shy of him. She was embarrassed that he should know her so intimately that he could be certain of her condition even before she was. It was almost a violation, she thought irritably.
He saw the annoyance springing to life in her eyes, and he quickly said, “I am my mother’s eldest son, and familiar wi’ a woman’s habits when she is first wi’ bairn.’’
“Could you not have waited at least until I told you myself, my lord? I think it indecent that a man should be so aware of a woman’s habits!’’ She could feel her temper beginning to tug at her. “How like a man, so caught up with the superiority of his overweening pride that he would know such things as you do, and further would assume the babe I carry is a son!’’
He wanted to laugh, for she was so like a small and golden-furred spitting kitten in her outrage. “Lovey,” he told her, controlling his amusement, “I love ye, and everything about ye is important to me. Why sometimes I awake in the night and listen to ye breathe to be certain that ye are all right.’’
“I wanted to surprise you,” she pouted, not quite ready to forgive him despite his declaration of love.
“There are many ways in which ye surprise me, madame,” he said softly, and he kissed her once again.
She slipped her arms about his neck and drew him closer to her, pressing the length of her naked body against him. “Take me home, my lord,” she said with double meaning.
“Witch,” he growled into the golden tangle of her hair, feeling little hands seeking him. With a half groan he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him.
Laughing, Arabella caressed his manhood until he was aching with his eagerness to possess her. Shy in many ways with him, he had discovered, to his amazement, that she had no such reticence when it came to the act of love. It was almost as if she were a different person. In time, he suspected, he would be able to teach her certain refinements of passion that many women would not tolerate. Mounting him, Arabella began to ride her husband, gently at first, more wildly as her own passion increased, her head thrown back, her lips slightly parted, her green eyes half veiled.
Reaching up, he grasped her breasts, teasing at the berry nipples, caressing and fondling the silken flesh. He half sat, leaning his head forward to take one of her nipples into his mouth so he might suckle upon it. Gently he bit down on the tender tip and was rewarded by a soft moan of unmistakable pleasure from his wife. He pinched the other nipple equally gently, for pain was not his goal, only an enhancement of desire. He was rewarded when her sweetly tight little sheath contracted about his throbbing manhood, and Arabella shivered violently the beginning of her own fulfillment. Releasing her nipples, he took control of the situation, gently turning her over upon her back and finishing magnificently what she had so gallantly started.
They lay together in the afterward, feeling the heat of not only their mutual passion, but of the new day as well. In the garden of the town house a thrush sang, even as from the front of the house the cries of the flower seller in from the country sounded. “Sweet lavender and Mary’s gold. Roses half a copper penny! Who’ll buy? Flowers! Fresh flowers wi’ the dew yet upon them! Who’ll buy?”
“Jemmie will nae miss us,” the earl finally said, breaking the silence between them. “He canna deny me the right to take ye home when yer quickening wi’ my heir and before it becomes too dangerous for ye to travel. Besides, the city is an unhealthy place for ye, particularly now.”
“Aye,” Arabella agreed, stretching her limbs with contentment. She no longer felt angry with him, for he was really most considerate of her. Then she said, “I cannot wait to see the look upon the face of that alley cat, Sorcha Morton, when she learns I am with child. I do not like the way she eyes you, my lord. As if you were a particularly delectable bit of sweetmeat.’’
“There is nothing between Lady Morton and myself, lovey, but if the truth be known, I dinna like the way my nephew looks upon ye.”
