“Would you not agree they are a perfect match, dear boy?” was his answer. “He would never have done for Philippa or for Banon, but for Elizabeth? Aye! How odd,” Thomas Bolton considered, “that my darling Rosamund’s girls should all be so different. Philippa was enamored of the court from the moment she arrived there. She is a noblewoman to her delicate fingertips. And my adorable Banon is a shining example of country gentry with her Neville husband. But as for Elizabeth, she is a farmer, with her estates and her sheep. She needs a strong man of the land for her mate, and Baen MacColl is that man.” He chuckled. “It was not so long ago, dear Will, that the Boltons of Friarsgate were nothing more than a wealthy farm family. It was my darling Rosamund who took them from the obscurity of Cumbria into the court. But of her three daughters only Elizabeth wanted Friarsgate and its responsibilities. And Elizabeth is a plainspoken country woman. Friarsgate is in good hands with her, but we all know she must have a husband, and children to carry on after she is gone one day. If Baen MacColl is her choice, then by God, dear boy, she shall have him no matter what we must do to make it happen! Now pour me some wine. I am exhausted with this difficult line of thought.” He sat back in his chair, a languid hand reaching out for the goblet that William Smythe poured. He sipped at it. “Ahh, yes! That is much better,” Lord Cambridge declared.
“How will you manage this marriage?” Will wanted to know.
“I? Dear boy, I will have nothing at all to do with it except to sit back and let Elizabeth manage the entire thing, for that is what she will do, you may be certain. Rosamund approves of the Scot. I certainly favor him. Their blood is almost equal, I have reconsidered. Her father was a knight. His is lesser nobility. It is enough.”
“But what of the master of Grayhaven?” Will persisted.
“The man would be a fool not to allow his bastard, particularly a beloved bastard, to wed with a landed heiress, even if she is English. It will all work itself out, dear boy, and I am eager to let it. I want to be home at Otterly by autumn. You must go back and see that my wing is completed on time with no more interference from Banon. I will have my privacy. Think on it, Will! Peace and quiet at long last. We shall spend the winter as snug as two mice in a full granary. When we were in London I found a cache of books and manuscripts for sale. They belonged to some elderly noble whose heir was obviously an uneducated barbarian. I purchased them and had them shipped to Otterly. We shall spend our days cataloging my find. It is a veritable treasure, dear Will!”
“You do not believe your further aid is needed then?” Will said.
“Nay. Elizabeth has the whole situation well in hand. In a few weeks we shall travel home, and all will be well.”
Baen MacColl reentered the hall, Friar bounding ahead of him.
“Dear, dear boy, you have enjoyed your romp with your dog?”
“Aye,” Baen told him. “The evening is fair, sir. The air here has a softness to it that I do not find in my Highlands.”
“It comes from the sea,” Lord Cambridge murmured. “’Tis why my nieces have such fine skin. Elizabeth in particular. Otterly is farther from the sea, and Philippa’s home at Brierewode not near the sea at all. Do you not find Elizabeth lovely, dear boy? She is the fairest of Rosamund’s daughters.”
“Aye,” Baen said. “She is lovely.” He flushed with the words.
Seeing it, Thomas Bolton knew he had made his point. He arose, setting his goblet aside. “I must find my bed, for I am fairly exhausted, dear boy. Elizabeth has not come down, and may not. Would you see the house is safe for the night?”
“Aye, my lord, gladly,” Baen answered, bowing slightly.
“Good night then, dear boy,” Lord Cambridge said, and linked his arm through Will Smythe’s as the two men left the hall.
Friar had settled down by the fire, his eyes closed. Baen went to the front door of the house and set the bar across it. He walked through the main floor of the dwelling, making certain that all the fires were banked and the candles snuffed out. Satisfied that all was well, he sat down for a moment before the warm hearth. It felt so natural to do the tasks that would belong to the master of the house. But of course he was not the master here. And he couldn’t be. He owed an allegiance to his father first. With a sigh he arose and went upstairs to his bedchamber.
Opening the door, he saw the fire burning in the small hearth, casting black shadows on the walls. He did not bother to light his taper, for he could see well enough to disrobe. Stripping to his natural state he washed himself in the basin left for that purpose. Then, turning, he walked across the room to his bed. The coverlet suddenly flipped back.
“Get in,” he heard Elizabeth’s voice command, and then she raised herself from the mattress. “You will catch a chill, Baen,” she said in a gentler voice.
He stood there, shocked, more mindful of his nakedness than he had ever been in his entire life. He grabbed at the coverlet to shield himself.
Elizabeth giggled. “I have already seen everything you have to offer, Baen, and it is most impressive, I must say.” Then, tossing the coverlet off, she displayed herself completely to him.
“You’re naked,” he croaked. He could not take his eyes from her. She was slender where a man would want a woman slender, and sweetly rounded where he would want her rounded. Her skin was pale, like rich cream, and her blond hair spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall. Her hazel-green eyes met his gray ones directly.
“Get into bed, Baen,” she repeated.
He backed away from her. “Are you mad, lass?” he wanted to know.
“Did you not believe me when I said I wanted you for my mate?” Elizabeth asked him quietly. Actually her heart was hammering, and she did not feel nearly as bold as she was portraying herself to be. He was a very big man. Big all over. Still, she knew from her sisters what was involved in a man’s coupling with a woman. She had just never realized that a manroot could be that large.
“If I get into that bed, Elizabeth,” he said in dark tones, “there will be no going back for either of us. You cannot cry rapine in the morning.”
“Why would I?” she questioned him. “You are my mate.”
“If you are a virgin I will ruin you for any husband,” he said.
“I am a virgin, and I want none other but you,” she told him.
“I cannot remain with you once my business here is complete. I must return to Grayhaven, lass,” he attempted to reason with her. “My sire has my loyalty, as he must.”
Elizabeth held out her hand to him. “Come,” she said softly.
