“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 deference. 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.
