Chapter Thirteen #2
Ivy cast a frown toward Philipa as she cradled the child’s neck and held it up so that Philipa might see the sex. A small penis was well formed between the baby’s legs. The child turned red as he squalled.
“Well done. You see? Everything is in order and now I am pleased.”
Anne was leaning back on the birthing chair, her body shivering. Philipa turned her back on them. She smiled at Mary, fixing the hair that had escaped from its braid.
“There now, dear, you see? Everything is just as I told you it would be.”
Mary smiled. “You are always so right, mother.”
“A few more days and you may then present your son to everyone. We’ll write to your father.”
Mary smiled. “And I may return to court?”
“Yes, my dear. It is important that that Scot doesn’t catch up with you for many months. You will have to be clever and avoid him.” Philipa waved a hand in the air. “I doubt he’ll ride so far into England.”
She did not know Brodick.
Anne cradled her son. Even if Philipa’s scheme was foul, the product was beautiful.
“Riders ho!”
The Captain of the Guard cried out as the bells on the walls began ringing. Philipa lost her smug, satisfied look as she rushed toward the window.
“Christ’s wounds! It’s your husband.”
The McJames’ banners flew proudly in the afternoon sunlight, bearing down on the gate. The earl himself was leading the pack of retainers, five times the number that had arrived to fetch Mary.
“Stay here, Mary. Let no one see you or that baby.”
Philipa grabbed a handful of her skirts and ran from the room. Anne stared at the empty doorframe. Not once had she ever seen the mistress of Warwickshire run.
Mary wrung her hands. “Give me the baby.”
Ivy grabbed a broom. “Get out.”
“You forget your place, slut.”
Ivy turned the broom with a practiced hand, and swung it in a circle using both hands.
“Oh, I know my place. I know how to beat you senseless with this broom if you don’t get away from my daughter and grandchild.”
Ivy stamped the broom on the hard stone floor. Mary flinched at the sound, her face turning pale.
“Stupid girl.” Ivy shook her head. “Your father should never have allowed you to be raised so weak. I am going to have a word with that man when he returns. You may count on it.”
Mary’s eyes grew large and round. Ivy pointed at her. “Stay out of my way, girl. There is women’s work to see to. I’ve no time for your childish ways.”
Mary looked shamed for the first time that Anne could recall, her cheeks red and her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
Anne shivered but the bells made her heart swell.
Her mother wiped her forehead with a cool cloth.
Her son nuzzled against her breast, rooting about for a nipple.
Every muscle twitched and it was an effort to hold the infant.
But she was happy. So pleased that it felt like sunshine was shining out of her.
She’d given Brodick a son.
There was no greater gift that her love might bestow.
Heavy fatigue pressed down on her as her mother tended to her, cleansing away the last stains of the birth.
“Your husband is here, riding into the courtyard,” Ivy whispered, but Mary screeched in outrage.
“My husband. He is my husband. She is a bastard.”
Ivy stood up, her temper overriding her good sense. Anne grabbed her mother’s wrist, trying to restrain her.
Ivy shook her daughter’s hand off. “I’ll have none of this. Do you hear? I’ve suffered in silence for my entire life, but no more.”
Anne smiled at her mother “Well now, he’s a fine, healthy boy.”
Anne gently hugged the tiny body close to her chest. “Like his father.”
“Aye, I see that.” Ivy took the baby to the copper basin.
She gently washed him, cupping the water in her hand to pour it over his head.
He didn’t cry, but wiggled while making soft cooing sounds.
Her mother finished and wrapped the infant in swaddling so that only his face and upper arms were free.
She laid him in the cradle before turning to help Anne. Soon she was settled into the bed and Ivy handed the baby to her.
“He’ll want your breast, if he’s anything like your brothers.”
Anne didn’t have time to lower her chemise. There was a scurry of feet in the outer room.
“Stop! These are my private chambers. You have no right to invade my rooms, you…Scots!” Philipa bellowed in outrage as the sounds of footfalls echoed between the stone walls.
“I’ll tell you who has rights, madam. I have the right to see my wife. Now stand aside or I’ll knock ye to the floor. But I will find where ye have hidden her.”
Brodick sounded dangerous, but he also sounded sweeter than any sound she’d ever heard. Anne clutched her son close, tears easing from her eyes.
“Brodick! I’m here!”
The curtain was ripped half off the rod as her husband erupted through the doorway. His face was a mask of fury, his sword in hand. He swept the room before charging towards her.
“I swear I wish I had the strength to beat ye for placing yourself in such danger.” He cupped her chin and his fingers shook. “Look at what ye reduce me to, lass. I’m but a shell of a man in yer grip.”
The baby hiccupped and Brodick dropped his sword.
Anne wasn’t sure what surprised her husband more; the sight of their newborn son or the clatter of his sword.
He ignored the dropped weapon, reaching instead for the edge of the cloth wrapped around the baby’s head.
With a single finger he gently pulled it aside to peer at the tiny face.
“I’ve given you a son.” Her voice was laced with tears, tears born from happiness. “Just as I know you wanted.”
“No!” Mary screamed, stomping her feet. Brodick turned, his kilt flaring out. The sword was back in hand before the fabric settled.
Mary’s face was red, her eyes bulging from her head. “That’s supposed to be my baby. Mine. I’m a countess.”
“Ye’re no wife of mine.” Distaste colored his words.
Philipa stood frozen in the corner. “Oh, but she is, my lord, and you’d do well to listen to me.
You have your son. My daughter is the only daughter with a dowry.
You must keep Mary as your legal wife or lose what you married for.
As for that bastard, you may have her for a leman.
Look how strong she is. She’ll give you all the children you want and Mary will bring you the land you desire. ”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Cullen stood behind Philipa, his face a mask of disapproval.
“I wish I didnae believe it, but the proof is plain.” Brodick lowered his sword but stood in front of Anne, shielding her from Philipa.
“You can keep yer dowry. The woman I love is worth far more than any land.”
“But you need the land, Brodick.” Anne reached for his hand, unwilling to see him lose what he wanted. “It is still yours and your son’s.”
“I’ll not have that creature on my land.” He pointed at Mary. She tossed her head, looking down her nose at him.
“I certainly do not want to go to Scotland. Why do you think my mother sent that bastard in my place?”
Druce reached out to close his hand around Mary’s nape. She squealed but he granted her no mercy. “And the world calls us Scots the uncivilized ones.”
He flung Mary into the outer room without any remorse. Anne heard her half–sister’s shoes scuffing against the floor. Druce pointed at Mary through the arched doorway. “Keep a hand on her and a gag if she starts talking again. We’ve heard enough from that one to last a lifetime.”
There was a grunt from the retainers in the other room before Druce turned to face Brodick. “She was making me head ache.”
“Mary is your legal wife.” Philipa shook her fist in the air. “My daughter. Not that bastard girl.”
Philipa looked at the baby, hunger brightening her eyes. She made a lunge towards the bed but froze when Brodick raised his sword, the deadly point even with her heart.
“Ye’ll nae touch my family, woman. Make no mistake about it, I’m nae a forgiving man when it comes to what I consider my own.”
His words were as strong as the steel in his hand. “I swear I’ll run ye through, noblewoman or not.”
“Sounds like a fair plan to my way of thinking.” Cullen wasn’t joking this time. His voice was as hard as his brother’s. “Ye deceived every McJames and we nae take kindly to that.”
“Leave her for her husband. ’Tis his duty to sort out this mess.” Brodick didn’t lower his sword until Druce took hold of Philipa. She snarled but the Scot shook her like a rag doll.
“Have done, madam,” he growled at her, towering over her.
“The marriage won’t stand. You’ll get nothing if you bring my husband into this.”
Brodick sneered at her. “I’ve already dispatched a message to yer husband, woman.
He needs to get home and take his estate back under his command.
” He moved toward her, his sword still unsheathed.
“But there’s one thing that ye had best be clear on.
I’ll nae have any other but the mother of my son. ”
Philipa screeched. Druce pulled her from the room as she ranted and raved.
Brodick turned then, his midnight eyes pegging Anne with a hard look. He reached up and slid his sword back into its sheath without shifting his attention away from her.
“Cullen. I want a full guard on this room.”
“Aye.”
“And keep a watch on that pair until the Earl of Warwickshire returns to take them in hand.”
Brodick froze for a moment, the tapestry catching his eye. His face softened for a moment as he stared at it. He stiffened, shooting a hard glance at her.
“Everyone else, leave.” Brodick stared at her. “I need a moment with my wife.”
Everyone left the solar, but all Anne noticed was the word wife. Brodick looked as formidable and unrelenting as he had the first time she’d laid eyes upon him. Fierce determination flickered in his eyes as he considered her.
“Good God, woman. I’m going to take to spanking you once a week.”