Epilogue
Hollee Castle
Scottish Borderlands
“All I want is a son, lass,” Estevan whispered. “That’s all I ask of ye. Just one son.”
He was delivering his plea in between heated kisses.
But Anaxandra didn’t want talk—she wanted action.
They were in the small solar of Hollee Castle, a small outpost north of Ashkirk Castle that Lares had given to Estevan when he and Anaxandra were married.
The castle itself had a large curtain wall, a vast bailey, a big hall, but a keep that was only six chambers over three stories and not very large at that.
Still, it was their home, where they were raising their family.
Four loud, beautiful, delightful, and loving little girls.
Hence the reason Estevan was begging for a son.
“But I am already with child,” Anaxandra said, trying to breathe in between his sensual onslaught. “It is already a boy or a girl. Begging me for a son at this moment will not change that.”
Estevan didn’t happen to think she was right.
In order to entice his wife to breed him a child of the male persuasion, he’d had to be clever.
He knew what she liked. Pulling her tightly against him, he moved his mouth over her collarbone.
She was unbelievably sweet and soft, and he could feel his temperature rise.
The woman always had that effect on him and had since the first time he’d touched her.
When his seeking mouth came to her neck, she threw her head back and he feasted on her throat.
He was still sitting in his chair, as he’d trapped her against his worktable when she came in to ask him a question, but now she ended up on his lap, her head hanging back as he devoured the flesh.
When he reached her earlobes and suckled tenderly, she lifted her head and slanted her mouth hungrily over his.
Hot, passionate kisses followed. Estevan’s hands were in her hair, on her shoulders, stroking her back before moving to her chest. He couldn’t control himself and pulled the neckline of her garment down, exposing a plump breast. When he clamped down on a tender nipple and suckled, she cried out softly.
“Upstairs,” she breathed. “To our chamber.”
“No time,” he replied, his mouth against her breast.
The table was behind them, and it presented a perfect opportunity. Estevan cleaned it off with one sweep of his hand, clearing a path for his wife. Grasping her by the buttocks, he lifted her up and put her on the table, carefully laying her down.
Clothes were coming off or being pushed aside.
Anaxandra only had her skirts to lift, and she did, pulling them up as Estevan yanked off his tunic.
He probably didn’t need to disrobe, given the situation, but he did anyway.
As he was doing that, Anaxandra fumbled with the tie of his breeches.
He was still pulling his arms out of his tunic when she scooted off the table, pulled his breeches to his knees, and put her mouth on his throbbing, engorged manhood.
Estevan nearly lost his mind.
“Christ,” he hissed as her mouth worked him. “This is going tae be over before it starts if ye keep that up.”
He put a hand down to stop her, but her response was to move that hand to her hair.
She liked it when he pulled her hair, something the years of sexual discovery between them had revealed.
His repressed, isolated wife had grown into an adventurous woman who would try anything in bed, or let him do anything he pleased.
He’d taught her how to pleasure him with her mouth, and she did it so well that Estevan was dizzy with it.
His hands were in her hair as her mouth plunged down on him, again and again.
But he could only take so much. He could feel himself quickly building to a release, so he stopped her, firmly this time, and lifted her onto the table again, wedging his muscular body between her legs.
Anaxandra’s arms went around his neck, her mouth seeking his, and he kissed her deeply while his hands moved to intimate places.
He stroked her thighs, experiencing their soft texture, before his fingers moved to the fluff of blonde curls between her legs.
He discovered, with pleasure, that she was hot and ready for him.
Estevan didn’t make her wait.
Pulling her hips to the edge of the table, he mounted her and thrust deep, her slick body closing in around him.
He continued to thrust into her, listening to her grunts of pleasure as his hands loved her up.
Every coupling was like the first time, only better, which was why they’d had four children in six years.
He was hers, she was his, and they couldn’t get enough of one another.
But this time, he really did want a son.
Anaxandra’s orgasm came with swift pants and a stiffening body, and he prolonged her pleasure as he suckled her breasts.
Unable to hold it back any longer, Estevan thrust hard and released himself deep into her body, feeling every last spasm, every last ripple.
He simply held her buttocks against his groin, plunged as deep as he could go, and ground his hips against hers because he knew that if he did it enough, she would climax again.
She was very sensitive at this point in their lovemaking, and, as predicted, she experienced her pleasure once more as he continued to rub against her.
When it was finally over, he pulled her up from the table, still joined to her, and held her tightly.
Anaxandra’s legs were wrapped around his hips, holding her against him, her head on his chest as she slowed her breathing.
He was just about to say something to her when there was a knock on the solar door.
“Es?” It was Cruz dun Tarh, his youngest brother, who now served him at Hollee. “Es, are ye in there?”
Anaxandra’s head came up, her eyes wide as she looked at her husband. He put a finger to his lips, asking for her silence, as he answered.
“I’ll be out in a moment,” he said. “What do ye need?”
“The escort is prepared for the journey tae Castle Questing,” Cruz said, muffled through the door. “Do ye want tae inspect it?”
“I’ll come in a moment.”
They could hear Cruz’s footsteps fading away. With a grin, Estevan pulled Anaxandra off the table before pulling up his breeches and securing them.
“At least he did not walk in this time without knocking,” Anaxandra said, fixing the bodice of her garment. “He’s done that before.”
Estevan grunted as he picked up his tunic. “Never again,” he said firmly. “The last time he did it, I threatened tae send him back at the Hydra and tell my mother what he’d done. That convinced him tae be more cautious when the door is closed and he knows ye’re in the keep.”
Anaxandra burst into soft laughter. “Poor Cruz,” she said. “He’s only just gotten away from your mother. He does not want to go back.”
“Not anytime soon.”
Anaxandra continued to chuckle as she finished smoothing her clothing and pulling on a shoe that had fallen off when Estevan lifted her onto the table.
Once she was finished re-dressing, she put her hand on her belly, which was barely rounded at this stage.
She still didn’t look pregnant, not like she would look toward the end.
Estevan finished dressing also and put his hand over hers, feeling the gentle hardness of the life they’d created together. He kissed her again.
“It will be a lad and his name will be James,” he declared. “Mark my words, love. I will have my son.”
Anaxandra didn’t argue with him, nor did she mention that he’d said the same thing for their first four children, all daughters who looked, to varying degrees, like Mabel—with the exception of Paloma, who was the image of her beauteous mother.
Truthfully, Estevan didn’t mind so many girls.
He rather liked girls, and he particularly liked his own.
But he was starting to feel outnumbered.
“As you wish,” Anaxandra said. “Now, we’ve a journey to prepare for and we should probably get to it. We told Titan we would arrive next week, you know. Everyone is going to be there—Matty, Rodion, your brothers Aurelius and Darien, and many others, I’m sure. It will be a big gathering.”
“I know.”
“Are Matty and Leonore coming?”
“Nay, but that’s a story for another time.”
Anaxandra accepted that. “Then we really should depart.”
They were already heading for the door. Estevan had Anaxandra by the hand, using his free hand to open the solar door.
“I might mention that we are going tae visit Titan tae celebrate the birth of his new son,” he said. “The new heir tae the House of de Wolfe.”
Anaxandra nodded patiently. “You’ve told me that every day since we received the missive.”
“Did I mention that he has a son?”
Anaxandra rolled her eyes, her patience thinning. “Then why not ask him if we can trade one of our girls for his son?” she said. “Our girls are bright and beautiful. Surely he would consider it.”
He could see her annoyance and knew he’d pushed her to her limit, so he grinned and took her in his arms, pulling her against him and gently kissing her cheek.
He was about to kiss her on the mouth when a noise from the stairwell caught their attention and they turned to see a gang of little girls emerging from the steps in the care of their nurse.
Sister Hildegarde made an excellent nurse.
“Sophia, Paloma,” the old woman said firmly, “I’ve told you not to come down those stairs so quickly. If you do it again, I shall hold your hand the entire way. Is that what you want?”
Sophia, the eldest at seven years, and Paloma, younger by eighteen months, faced Sister Hildegarde, or “Hildie,” solemnly.
“Nay, Hildie,” they said in tandem.
Sister Hildegarde was holding on to the youngest girls, Catalina and Isabella, one in each hand. “You are not babies any longer,” she said. “But you must listen to me, still.”
“Aye, Hildie.”
“You will obey the next time or there will be punishment.”
The older girls nodded. But then they turned around and saw their father, and the scolding was forgotten.
“Papa!” they cried.
Estevan smiled and opened his arms to his children, who hugged him fiercely.
Catalina, the three-year-old, also ran to him, but Isabella, the baby at nearly two years, went straight for her mother.
Anaxandra cradled her youngest as the older three hugged and kissed their father, who lavished affection on them.
He may have wanted a son, but he absolutely doted on his daughters.
“Now,” he said, looking at the three little faces, “are ye ready tae go for a visit tae see Uncle Titan? He told me that he has ponies for ye tae ride.”
The girls began jumping up and down, cheering.
The idea of ponies excited them greatly.
But then Uncle Cruz came back into the keep and they immediately ran to him because they knew he would play with them.
True to form, Cruz got down on his hands and knees and the girls tried to jump on his back and ride him like a horse.
Estevan had to help Catalina because she was too small to climb on.
He continued to hold her steady as Cruz walked around the entryway on all fours, pretending to be a horse, pretending to rear up and make noise.
The girls loved every minute of it.
And Anaxandra watched it all.
This was her life. This was the one she’d always dreamt of, but one she never truly thought she’d have.
Sometimes, in moments like this, it was positively surreal.
If growing up at St. Margaret’s had taught her one thing, it had taught her to be brave.
To not fear what was to come. It taught her to have faith in the smallest things because, in the end, the reality would be more than she could have ever dreamt of.
The family before her was proof of that.
Her family.
Finally, she had one.
It was the greatest achievement she could have ever hoped for.
And it was Estevan’s achievement, too.
He never did tell her about her background or the circumstances of her birth.
He had confided in Mabel about it those years ago, but with her help, he had decided that telling Anaxandra wouldn’t make her life any better.
It wouldn’t enrich it. In fact, it might make her feel unloved or unwanted, given that she was sent away the moment of her birth, never to know her real mother.
Certainly, her real father couldn’t have anything to do with her.
But it was Mabel who had told the Earl of Teviot that her son had married his daughter.
Jaime, or James, de Longley, Earl of Teviot, had wept when Mabel told him, but he, too, agreed that telling Anaxandra the truth of her birth would not have enriched her.
It wasn’t as if de Longley could acknowledge her and keep his political marriage intact.
It wasn’t as if he could welcome her into his family.
But the truth was that he had loved her mother, and the first time he saw Anaxandra at a tournament at Berwick, he could see that she looked exactly like her mother, who had returned to Aragon those years ago and now had a family of her own.
Nay, telling Anaxandra was not the right thing to do.
She was far better off living in her own world.
And what a world it was.
As Cruz and Sister Hildegarde finally took the little girls out into the sun, to a small garden that was safe from the rest of the bailey where they could play, Estevan stood in the keep entry with his arm around his wife and surveyed his empire.
There was work to do, but Anaxandra knew that Estevan would join the children, eventually.
He couldn’t stay away from them for long.
The qualities that made him a wonderful and attentive husband also made him a wonderful and attentive father.
She was blessed.
When a beaten, injured woman was found in the silt those years ago, there was no way of knowing she would be the gateway for bigger and better things for so many people.
Reclusive nuns and gambling warriors came together to ensure life, health, and happiness was preserved, giving way to a future that was bright for everyone.
But the brightest future of all was of the woman who had fired the bolt at the man who would, one day, be her husband.
It was the best thing she’d ever done.
Destiny, for Anaxandra and Estevan, had come full circle.
Forever.
* THE END *