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Authors: Bertrice Small

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BOOK: Just Beyond Tomorrow
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“Yer brothers were long grown by the time ye were born,” he replied, chuckling. “Aye, we'll need sons for Glenkirk, and we'll work hard ye and I to get them, but a lassie wi' her mam's flaming pate will nae displease me, Flanna . . .” He nuzzled her ear. She could surely rouse his lust, this hot-tempered, wide-eyed wife of his, he thought, his tongue dipping into the shell of her ear to tickle it wickedly.
This was ridiculous! She could feel the strength draining from her limbs as it did each time he touched her with passion. Did women always feel this way? Powerless and defenseless? It was delicious, but it was also extremely disquieting.
“Nay!”
she said, squirming away from the marauding digit.
“What is it, lassie?” He had ceased his actions the moment she had protested them.
“Dinna women make love to men, Patrick?” The silvery eyes met his green-gold ones in an honest query.
“Aye,” he answered her slowly. What was this all about?
“How?”
“How?”
He echoed her, looking puzzled.
“Well, certainly, my lord, all women dinna just become passive in a man's arms! Ye touch me, and I find it pleasant. Should I nae touch ye? Would ye find it as pleasurable if I did? Do two people nae participate in lovemaking, or is the woman just a
thing
to be used for her husband's gratification? Please tell me, Patrick,” Flanna finished.
Patrick Leslie suddenly felt like a selfish fool. He had known from the beginning that Flanna was an innocent, but he had been so enjoying her delicious body, and her obvious delight in his prowess, that he had never considered anything else. “Mimic my actions, lass,” he told her. “What pleasures ye will pleasure me. I forgot yer own unfamiliarity wi' passion in my delight of ye.” He stroked her breasts gently and kissed the mouth she offered him. “Ye were a wee bit bolder on our wedding night, Flanna lass,” he teased her.
“I dinna know what was to come then,” she responded. Then she slid her hand beneath his dressing gown and caressed his hard chest, her fingers tangling gently in the soft down bedecking it. She burrowed her face into the curve between his neck and his shoulder, kissing it softly. Her hand reached up to draw his head to her, and she boldly tickled the inside of his ear with her tongue, blowing softly afterward. “Like this, my lord?” she murmured hotly.
“Aye,” he drawled the word, and pinched her nipple tightly.
She squealed, rotating her bottom upon his lap, and nipped at his earlobe. Her hands pushed his gown from his shoulders, baring him to the waist, and she impudently began to trail kisses across his skin, twisting her body to facilitate her actions.
He was thoroughly enjoying her daring. Even more so when her shift rode up to bare her bottom to him. He sleeked his big hand over the tempting twin moons, causing her to gasp with surprise and attempt to rise from his embrace. Firmly he turned her about so that they faced each other again. He pulled the shift from her so that she was now quite naked in his arms. “Petting one's lover is much to be desired, Flanna lass. His mouth took hers in a fierce kiss. When he lifted his head from hers, she pulled him brazenly back, their lips meeting in a burning kiss.
“Ye're shameless,” he groaned against her mouth.
“Ye dinna seem to like a shy lass as well,” she pertly answered him as her tongue slid across his lips boldly.
Regaining control of the situation, Patrick buried his face between her breasts, causing her to squeak with surprise. For a long moment he was almost overwhelmed with the pure sweetness of her. Then, raising his head, he fastened his hands about her waist and lifted her up, settling her down again so that she sat upon his thighs facing him. Taking her face between his two hands, he kissed her again. His fingers tangled themselves in her red-gold hair.
Her hands were flat against his chest as if she meant to fend him off, but she didn't push him away. Instead, she threw her head back and sighed gustily when he kissed the long line of her throat. The heat from his body was overpowering, and she could now feel his manhood beneath her. “I want ye inside of me, Patrick Leslie,” she husked.
“Now!”
He said nothing, but lifting her, he impaled her on the long, hard length of him. Her eyes half closed as she felt him entering her, then opened to stare directly into his gaze. He was startled, but equal to the challenge. “I canna do all the work like this, Flanna lass,” he told her. “Ye must ride me.”
Her cheeks grew bright pink at his words, but she began to move upon him, slowly at first, then with a quicker rhythm. Her eyes never left his, and her boldness excited him even further. Reaching out, he grasped her breasts in his hands, fondling them strongly as her body slid up and down the length of him. The hard, probing love lance within her was wonderful, Flanna thought. He filled her. She squeezed his length, enjoying the sensations and his hiss of obvious pleasure.
Suddenly to her great amazement he stood, sliding his hands beneath her buttocks. Flanna wrapped her legs about his waist, clinging to him as he walked slowly from the dayroom and into his bedchamber, laying her at the foot of his bed. She felt the mattress give way beneath her weight. To her shock they were still joined, and he began to piston her fiercely, forcing her arms above her head as he looked down into her lovely face. His gaze was intense, and Flanna was unable to turn away, so mesmerized was she by her husband's great passion. He pushed hard into her, grinding himself against her, and she reveled in his almost savage demeanor, pushing her hips back up at his every downward thrust.
“Aye! Aye!”
she encouraged him softly, her silvery eyes glittering.
“Oh, bitch, ye hae unmanned me!”
She shuddered beneath him, and he groaned deeply as his juices flooded her.
She soared once again, consumed by his fire, filled with a honeyed sweetness that was becoming more and more familiar, eagerly anticipated, and desperately necessary to her very existence. “Oh, Patrick,” she sighed,
“I truly do like the coupling!”
He had collapsed upon her, but now he drew away and, standing up, went to the head of the bed and pulled the coverlet back. Then he picked her up and tucked her beneath it, climbing in next to her. His arms went about her, and she rested her head upon his damp chest as his hand stroked her graceful back. “Madame, I dinna know what good fairy led me to Brae, and to ye, but I am mightily glad of it. No man could hae a better bed partner than ye are becoming.”
“Is there more?” she asked him softly.
“Aye, there is love, Flanna lass,” he told her.
“What is love?” she wondered aloud. “They say my father loved my mother, but I never understood what love was. Do ye know?”
He was silent for several long moments, and then he said, “I am nae certain either, Flanna. All I know is my parents seemed to be bound by some invisible cord even when they were nae together. Sometimes they spoke nae wi' words, but wi' a look. When my father was killed at Dunbar, my mother could nae longer remain where they had known so many years of happiness. She left Glenkirk. I dinna understand it, but I think that is love. Perhaps it comes in time, even as the passion between a husband and wife grows.”
“Do ye think we will ever love one another, Patrick?” she said low.
“I dinna know, Flanna lass, but know that I am content wi' ye despite our short acquaintance.” He rolled her beneath him, and kissed her slowly, deeply, on the mouth, then scattered kisses across her face and throat. “Verra content,” he murmured against the pulse at the base of her throat.
“Ohhhh,”
Flanna replied ingenuously, “we're going to do it again, are nae we?” His kisses were so sweet.
“Aye, lass,” he growled into her ear. “We're going to do it again.
And again. And yet again.”
Part Two
The Do-Naught Duchess
Chapter
6
F
lanna shrieked as a hard hand smacked her bottom. She whirled angrily about to face a handsome man with shoulder-length auburn curls and laughing amber eyes.
“Come then, wench, and tell the duke his big brother, the not-so-royal Stuart, has arrived to see him. But first give us a kiss! Why, you're the prettiest lass I've seen in many a day.” Reaching out, he pulled Flanna to him, kissing her mouth quite lustily.
Flanna pulled away, slapping the man with all her might. “Ye're a bold one, ye are! I'll thank ye to keep yer hands to yerself, my lord! How dare ye accost me?” she sputtered furiously.
Charles Frederick Stuart, the Duke of Lundy, rubbed his burning cheek. “You pack a mighty wallop, lassie. Don't you like to be kissed?”
“Only by my husband, my lord,” Flanna said tartly, glaring at her antagonist.
“Is there trouble, my lady?” Angus materialized out of the shadows of the hall. He stood every inch of his seven feet, and the Englishman was mightily impressed, although not in the least taken aback.
“I am the duke's brother,” he told Angus.
“Which one, my lord? The duke hae four brothers if I am nae mistaken. From the sound of ye, ye're one of the English ones,” Angus said, and deliberately looked down in an effort to intimidate the visitor.
The Duke of Lundy laughed. “I am the royal bastard,” he replied with a grin. “And who might you be, my giant of a friend?”
“I am Angus, my lord, the majordomo of the castle,” came the reply.
“And who is the wench with the quick hand?” He leered wickedly at Flanna, who glowered back fiercely.
“There is but one woman in the hall, my lord, and so I assume 'tis she to whom ye refer. She is nae wench, but the lady of the castle. I will tell yer brother that ye are here.” He gave the Duke of Lundy a small bow and withdrew.
Charles Frederick Stuart stared hard at Flanna.
“The lady of the castle?”
His look was perplexed.
“I am yer brother's wife, ye randy devil!” Flanna snapped.
“Since when?”
Charlie Stuart was having difficulty absorbing this.
“Almost two months,” Flanna replied.
“Well, I'll be damned,” came the laughing reply.
“Ye certainly will if ye continue in yer bad behavior,” Flanna told him sharply. “Do ye always enter a house and grab at the women ye find there? Ye ought to be ashamed of yerself, sir!”
“Not all the women in the houses I enter are as tempting as you are, madame,” he told her with a mischievous grin. “I did not know Patrick was planning to wed.”
“He wasna and neither was I,” Flanna said, “but circumstances intervened, and here we are.”
“Does Mother know? I saw her several months ago, but of course she would not have known then.
Circumstances?
Are you with child, then, madame, that my brother decided to make an honest woman of you?”
“Ye're insulting, my lord,” Flanna said. “I was nae wi' bairn when yer brother married me, but I hope I will be soon. Glenkirk needs an heir, and I intend to produce one as quickly as possible. I know my duty, my lord.”
“Where did you come from, madame?”
“I am the only daughter of the Brodie of Killiecairn and the heiress of Brae, sir,” Flanna told him proudly.
“God's blood!” the Duke of Lundy replied. “Killiecairn is a rustic backwater as I remember it from my days here at Glenkirk.”
“We live simply at Killiecairn,” Flanna said with understatement. “Are ye always this rude, my lord, or is it just because ye're English and think yerself superior to the Scots?”
“Madame, I surely did not mean to give offense,” the Duke of Lundy began hastily.
“Then, ye are merely careless and thoughtless in yer speech?” she asked him sweetly.
“God's blood, madame, you are as prickly as a thistle,” he responded. “I swear I did not mean to insult you. I am just very surprised to learn Patrick has taken a wife and none in the family know it. Why the need for secrecy if you are not with child?”
“There's nae secret about our marriage, my lord,” Flanna said stiffly. “Perhaps ye noticed the snow as ye came our way? Today is the first time in weeks the sun hae shone. Besides, what difference should our marriage make to yer family?”
“Charlie!”
Patrick Leslie came into the hall. “Welcome back to Glenkirk, big brother! What brings ye here at this terrible time of year? I see ye hae met my bride. Is she nae a beauty? Do ye note her hair? 'Tis the same color as my ancestress, Janet Leslie, who hangs over the fireplace. Look! Do ye see it?”
“Does Mother know? She did not seem to when I left England in November,” Charles Frederick Stuart said by way of greeting to his brother.
“Nae yet. The weather has been too poor to send a messenger south. Besides, I dinna know the political situation and hesitate to risk the life of a Glenkirk man,” Patrick answered. “When did ye leave Queen's Malvern? And more important, why? Mother went down into England for the express purpose of making certain none of her bairns involved themselves in the king's war, although now wi' poor King Charles dead, 'tis a moot point, is it nae?”
“King Charles II will be crowned at Scone on the first of January,” the Duke of Lundy announced.
“King of what?”
Patrick said scornfully.
“Scotland, first. Then England and Ireland,” his brother replied. “He arrived in Scotland last summer.”
“I know,” Patrick said. “And then came Dunbar, Charlie. Father died at Dunbar. To what purpose, I ask ye? So the royal Stuart has a crown upon his head again. I dinna gie a damn, big brother! He'll nae be able to live much longer alongside his bigoted Covenanter masters, I guarantee ye. He'll bolt soon enough and leave Scotland to survive as best it can. As for England, to hell wi' the English as well!”
“God's blood, you're bitter, Patrick!” the Duke of Lundy said.
“Aye, I am. I miss Father, and I miss Mother as well. She would be here but for the Stuarts. They cause trouble for the Leslies of Glenkirk and always hae. But why are ye here, Charlie?”
“Wine, my lords?” Flanna had busied herself as the men spoke.
“Am I forgiven, madame?” Lundy asked as he took a goblet.
“I will consider it, my lord, but I suspect ye will take a bit of getting used to. Ye'll be staying the night, I assume.”
“Aye, and my children, too,” the Duke of Lundy said quietly.
Flanna looked startled, but before she might speak, Patrick said,
“Your children?
What has happened, Charlie?”
“Bess is dead. I had to find a safe place for my children, Patrick. They are no longer safe in England, I fear. For one thing, my wife's family are not Anglicans any longer. They would steal my sons and daughter from me, raising them to be as joyless and as narrow-minded as they are. I cannot allow that. It isn't that I care one way or the other as to how a man worships. Did not our Lord Christ say that there were many mansions in His father's house? Common sense would dictate that if there are many mansions, there are many roads leading to those mansions. Let each man follow his own conscience. I hate this bigotry over religion!”
“How did yer wife die, Charlie?” Patrick remembered his sister-in-law, Elizabeth Lightbody, the Earl of Welk's daughter. She had caught his brother's roving eye when she was but sixteen and Charlie twenty-six. While her family had looked askance at Charles Frederick Stuart's birth, they had also, with a more practical eye, noted his wealth, his estates, his title, and his closeness to the king, his uncle. They had managed to overcome their qualms and allow the marriage. It had been a very happy one.
“She was shot by one of Cromwell's troopers,” the Duke of Lundy replied. “I was away for the day in Worcester. It was one of those raiding parties Cromwell uses to put fear into ordinary folk. Worcester is, of course, a royalist town. Cromwell's troopers occasionally raid the outlying estates and farms. They burst into the house and shot Smythe, my majordomo, who attempted to restrain them. When Bess ran forward to protest, they shot her, too. She died instantly, I am told. Autumn survived by remaining silent. She killed the trooper who shot Bess, but that's another story. They looted the house of what they could find, which was not a great deal. We had hidden and buried everything we could several years ago when all this began. We will regain it when this rebellion is settled. As they left, they torched the house.”
“They burned Queen's Malvern?”
Patrick was shocked. This had been his mother's home in England as a girl, his great-grandparents' house. He had spent many a happy summer there as a child.
“It's damaged, especially the east wing, but I will restore it one day when I can go home again. The servants I settled with their families upon the estate. They will watch over the house while I am away. My children I have brought to you, Patrick. Will you shelter them for me? They will not be much trouble, for they are good bairns.”
“Of course we will take them,” Flanna said before her husband might speak. “Where are they, my lord? Surely they hae nae been out in the cold all this time? Fetch them in at once!”
“Biddy,” the Duke of Lundy called, “come into the hall and bring the children, please.” He turned to his sister-in-law. “Biddy,” he explained, “is the children's nurse. She was Bessie's nurse, too.”
A small, plump woman of indeterminate years came forth now. With her were three children. The youngest she carried in her arms. The two others were a girl and a boy. They looked both tired and frightened.
Flanna's heart contracted. “Ah, the poor bairns,” she said. “What a terrible time for them. Come by the fire my wee ones and warm yerselves.”
Charles Frederick Stuart smiled softly. His brother's bride had a good heart. “These are my chicks,” he said. “Sabrina is almost ten, Freddie is seven, and Willy is three. And, of course, this is our good Biddy, without whom none of us can survive.” He smiled at them, then continued, “Children, this is my brother, your Uncle Patrick, and his bride, your Aunt Flanna. They will shelter you and look after you while I am gone away to help the king.”
“But, Papa, we do not want you to go away,” Sabrina Stuart said, with tears in her amber eyes. She clung to him.
“I shall not go until you are well settled, Brie. The king is not due in Aberdeen for another two weeks. By then Glenkirk will be as familiar to you as Queen's Malvern was,” her father promised.
“We'll hae ponies for ye to ride, lassie,” Patrick Leslie told his niece. “Ye like to ride, dinna ye?”
“Why do you speak so oddly?” Sabrina asked him.
“I'm a Scot, lassie, nae an Englishman. Ye're in Scotland now,” he answered. “Ye'll get used to it shortly.”
“I want my mother,” Freddie Stuart said in a woeful tone.
“Mama's dead, you dunce! The wicked soldier shot her,” his sister reminded him. “She has gone to heaven to live with Jesus.”
“I don't want her to live in heaven with Jesus,” Freddie now wailed. “I want her to live with us! Why won't she come home?”
“Because she won't,” his sister told him grimly.
Flanna knelt so she might face the little boy. “Do ye know how to use a longbow, laddie?” she asked him.
Wordlessly, he shook his head.
“I do,” Flanna said. “Would ye like me to teach ye?”
“Could you?” Freddie was intrigued with this red-haired lady with her appealing talent who smelled so good. Mama hadn't even let him have the little sword his cousin, Prince Henry, had sent him on his last birthday.
“I can,” Flanna said. “Tomorrow if it doesna snow, or rain, we'll hae the butts set up in the courtyard and begin our lessons.” She turned her head to Sabrina. “I'll teach ye, too, if ye like.”
“I never knew a lady who could shoot a longbow,” Brie said, equally fascinated with her new aunt.
“Well,” Flanna told her with a chuckle, “I'm just learning to be a lady, lassie; but I'm nae one yet, and I shoot a longbow verra well.” She stood up and chucked the baby beneath his chin. “And ye, wee Willie, we'll teach to sit a pony come the spring. Now, however, we must get these bairns fed and tucked into warm beds. Ye've come far.” She turned her attention from the children, calling out, “Angus, where hae ye gotten to, man?”
“I am here, my lady,” the majordomo said, coming forward. He bowed to the two gentlemen. “I hae already spoken wi' the housekeeper, my lady. We are preparing rooms in the east tower for the bairns. I'll take them to the kitchens to be fed wi' yer permission.”
Flanna nodded, then turned to her guests. Biddy's eyes were enormous as she took in Angus, and the children looked frightened again. “Angus will nae harm ye, my bairns,” Flanna said. “Like yer Biddy, Angus came wi' my mother when she wed wi' my da. He helped to raise me. Now he has come wi' me to Glenkirk. He is my friend as well as my servant. Ye must rely upon him for anything ye need. He will take good care of ye, I promise.”
BOOK: Just Beyond Tomorrow
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