He made no move to touch her when they went to bed at their roadside inns. When she asked him why, he said it was because he preferred to wait until they were at home. Philippa understood, for their accommodations had not been arranged by Lord Cambridge as he had not known when they would return. Yet she was anxious to see if their bedsport was still as pleasurable as it had previously been. They rode each day until dark, staying at whatever respectable accommodation they found. And then they were at Brierewode once more, and Mistress Marian was surprised, for she had not thought to see them again until the autumn.
Philippa ordered up her bath. She could scarcely wait to bathe, not having been able to do so for many days. And her hair was filthy with the dusty summer roads. Even brushing could not help it. While Lucy was busy preparing the tub out in the dayroom, and the serving men were busy filling it with the hot water, Philippa flung open the casement windows in the bedchamber and leaned out. The air was sweet and fresh with the smells of summer, but the haze on the hills was heavier now. There would be rain by evening. She sighed with the realization that she was glad to be home. She had spent very little time at Brierewode, but aye, it was home. She could feel it in her bones. This was where she would live out her life but for yearly court visits. This would be where her children would be born.
Her children. His children. Their children. But it was not likely there would be any children if she continued to take her mother’s secret draft to prevent conception. Philippa felt a deep stab of guilt. What she was doing was against the church. The queen would be horrified. And yet Philippa had not confessed her sin to a priest. She had continued to claim little sins of this and that, and then open her mouth for the host. It was a wonder it had not choked her, she considered remorsefully. But was she really sorry? She didn’t think she was. Nor did she believe she would ever share her knowledge with the church. She had seen enough women in her time die from too many offspring in too short a time. Nay. Her guilt stemmed not from what she was doing, but from the fact she was not doing her duty by Crispin, who was so good to her and who badly wanted an heir.
There had been a message from Otterly when they had arrived. Lord Cambridge had written that Banon’s wedding was set for September twentieth. He would expect to see them there, and at Friarsgate beforehand. Rosamund was most anxious to meet her new son-in-law. “Your mother has not yet given up the hope that you will have Friarsgate as she has always planned,” Thomas Bolton wrote to the countess of Witton.
If you and Crispin have not changed your minds I am certain that he shall convince Rosamund otherwise, but what she will do then I do not know. Still, she is young enough yet, and there is time for a new heir to be chosen.
It would probably be one of her Hepburn half brothers, Philippa considered. She almost laughed to think what the late Henry Bolton would think of such a thing. Had he not already died, such a plan was more than likely to kill him. She chuckled aloud.
“Bath’s ready,” Lucy said, coming into the bedchamber. “What makes you laugh? It’s a most wicked sound that you made.”
“I was imagining great-uncle Henry’s reaction to one of my Hepburn kinsmen inheriting Friarsgate one day,” Philippa replied.
“So you’re certain, are you, that you really don’t want it,” Lucy said. Her supple fingers unlaced her mistress’s bodice.
Philippa nodded. “Just now gazing out the windows I realized that I had come home at last,” she told her serving woman. “Brierewode is where we belong, Lucy.”
“Aye, and you’ll have no argument from me, my lady This Oxfordshire is a fair land.” She undid the tabs holding the bodice to the skirt, and untied the skirt.
The skirt and its petticoats slid to the carpet, and Philippa stepped out of them even as Lucy drew the bodice off of her mistress. “Wash what can be washed, but those skirts, I think, have seen better days,” Philippa noted with a wry smile.
“I’ll have them cleaned up nonetheless, and you can wear them to travel north rather than waste another garment,” Lucy responded in practical tones.
Philippa sat down, and Lucy drew off the heavy leather shoes her mistress used for riding. “These will need repair, and a good polishing,” she noted as she pulled the stockings from Philippa’s feet. “And these can be burned, for they are worn out from your travels, I can see. There’s a hole in one heel, and another starting in the toe of the other.”
Philippa stood up again and, untying the ribbons of her chemise, shrugged it off. She was quite naked now. She walked from her bedchamber into the dayroom where the tub was set up before the fireplace. Even on a summer’s day a fire burned, taking the damp off of the chamber. Lucy had set towels to warming on a towel rack in front of the hearth. She stooped to gather up her lady’s garments and followed her into the dayroom.
“I’ll take these to the laundress now,” she said, “and be back to help you.”
“Nay,” Philippa said, “wash my hair first. I would make certain there are no fleas or bedbugs in it, for the inns we stayed at coming home were only the ones we could find when it grew dark. I far prefer it when Uncle Thomas makes our arrangements. I intend to write him so our trip north will be a pleasant one.” She climbed up the steps and down into her tub. “Ahhh, the water is deliciously hot, Lucy.”
Lucy dropped her bundle of garments on the floor of the dayroom, and climbing up the steps to the tub she said, “Duck under now, my lady, and I’ll give your head a good scrubbing.” She dipped her hand into the soap jar, scooping out a handful, and placing it on Philippa’s head she began to wash the young woman’s hair. Twice she lathered, and twice she rinsed. Finishing, she wrapped Philippa’s head in a warmed towel. “There, my lady, and not a flea, nit, or bedbug did I find.” Then climbing down she gathered up the clothing on the floor and hurried out.
Philippa closed her eyes. Just having her head washed so thoroughly made her feel good. She heard a faint rumble of thunder and, opening her eyes, looked through the open windows of the dayroom. The skies were darkening now, and it would rain soon. She didn’t care. She was home. Her hair was clean, and her bed tonight would be fresh. The door to the dayroom opened again, and Crispin entered.
Seeing her, he grinned. “I’m going to join you,” he told her, and began stripping off his garments.
“What if Lucy comes back, and sees you naked?” Philippa protested.
“Lucy won’t be back until we call her. I ran into her out in the corridor. And when I pull that bellpull by our bed, madame, she will come with supper for us. I am not of a mind to go into the hall tonight. You are to be my appetizer, wife.” The last of his clothing hit the floor, and he walked towards the tub.
“We’ll overflow the water,” she protested weakly.
“Nay, we won’t,” he replied. “I told the men just how much water to fill.” He climbed up the steps, and then stepped into the water. Yanking Philippa to him he kissed her, a deep and passionate kiss. “We have been too long apart, little one.”
“We have not been apart at all,” she exclaimed breathlessly.
He pulled the towel from her head, and his fingers dug into her scalp. “Aye, we have been apart, madame, but we will not be apart any longer.” He released her head, and his hands dove beneath the water to cup the twin halves of her bottom, lifting her up to impale her upon his love rod. “Now, wife, we are no longer apart,” he growled as her eyes widened with surprise, and he pressed her back against the wooden sides of the tub.
“Oh, my lord!” she exclaimed as he slipped into her love channel. She had not forgotten how marvelous his passion was these last few weeks, but she had forgotten how big he was. He plumbed her to the very depths of her soul, his lean hips moving faster and faster until to her surprise they both cried out.
“God’s wounds, I am a beast!” he groaned. “I had not a damned thought for you. Only my own pleasure. Forgive me, Philippa!”
She laughed weakly. “Crispin, I do not know how ladylike it is of me to admit that despite the swiftness of it all I gained pleasure too.”
“You wanted this too?” he asked.
