Bond of Passion

A week after they had settled back into their home, the earl sent Matthew Ferguson across Scotland into the eastern borders to Rath to fetch Mistress Agnes Baird. Matthew carried with him a letter from Annabella explaining the loss of her bairn. The laird and his wife were saddened by the news, and outraged that Darnley had played a part in robbing them of a grandchild.

Agnes was now fifteen, and the prettiest of her sisters. She had dancing eyes, the blue of a summer’s sky, and fluffy brown hair filled with golden highlights. Matthew could not help but notice how trim her figure was, with its dainty waist and generous bosom that had not seemed quite as voluptuous six months ago. Odd, he thought to himself. She was interesting the last time I saw her, but now she is delectable.

It took several days for Agnes’s belongings to be packed for her visit, as she had not been certain when her escort would come. Matthew and his men were content to wait. And then a week after his arrival at Rath they were ready to make the long return journey. Agnes was filled with excitement as she mounted her horse.

Lady Anne and her husband bade their youngest daughter farewell. “Be helpful, and dinna impose too greatly upon yer sister, my child. I know yer visit will delight her.”

“I promise to be good, Mama,” Agnes said dutifully as her father gave her a wink. She was anxious to be off on this adventure she had waited so many months to attain. And she was anxious to be free of Rath. It had been very dull since her three older sisters had wed and gone off with their new husbands. Myrna now lived in the far north. It was very unlikely Agnes would ever see Myrna again. Sorcha lived nearby in much the same style as the Bairds. There was no excitement there. But Annabella lived across Scotland in a castle on the sea. Agnes had never seen the sea, and she was most anxious to do so.

To Matthew’s surprise Agnes Baird turned out to be an excellent and uncomplaining traveler. Whether it was her nature to be so or simply the novelty of the journey, he didn’t know, but he was grateful. Anxious to see her eldest sister, Agnes had even pushed Matthew to travel faster. Liking her spirit of adventure, he had gladly obliged her. They reached Duin a day before he had anticipated that they would.

“Let me look at ye, Aggie,” Annabella said, setting the girl in front of her at arm’s length. “Oh, my! Ye’ve grown taller, and ye finally have breasts! Come into the hall. Ye’ll tell me everything that has happened at Rath in these last months since I saw ye.”

Agnes curtsied politely. “Oh, thank ye, my lord! And thank ye for sending yer brother to escort me. Matthew proved a delightful traveling companion, even if he is a bit slow a-horse.” Then, linking arms with her sister, she entered the castle.

“All is well at Rath, I assume,” Angus Ferguson said, chuckling at both Agnes’s remark and his brother’s reaction to it. He could see that his young sister-in-law was going to prove a lively addition to his household.

“They only want me because I am beautiful,” Agnes said scornfully, “and they want my gold dower. They do not want me. I have never been like Myrna, who was content in her beauty and thought it was enough. Nor am I like Sorcha, who is pleased to have married into a family more important than the Bairds. And I am not like you, Annabella. You were happy to have been given a husband at all, for no one thought such a plain lass would ever wed. It was believed ye would remain at Rath looking after our parents as they aged, and thus free any wife Robbie took from that burden.”

Although the earl bridled at his sister-in-law’s thoughtless tongue, Annabella merely laughed. “And yet I was given the greatest prize of a husband,” she said. “One never knows what will happen, Aggie. Dinna despair. Ye and yer true love will find each other one fine day. Ye are, after all, only fifteen.”

“Then surely within the next year something wonderful will happen for ye,” Annabella teased. She reached out to touch her sister’s cheek. “I am so glad ye’re wi’ me, Aggie. I have missed ye, and I have a great deal to show ye here at Duin.”

Agnes Baird had arrived at Duin at the end of the month of May. Her sister’s home was a wonder to her. Like Annabella, she had never before lived in so large a dwelling; nor had she seen the sea. The water, the waves, the soaring gulls all delighted her. She loved the vivid sunsets. One clear day Annabella had insisted that Matthew take Agnes to the rooftop of the castle to see the magnificent view.

With much grumbling Matthew Ferguson climbed the narrowing staircase to the very top of one of the square towers. Agnes was right behind him. Opening a small door, he carefully stepped out, then reached back to take her hand and pull her up onto the rooftop. Together they walked to the stone parapet that bordered the edge of the tower.

Agnes stared, seeing in the distance something she had never noticed before when she looked out over the water. “Is that land out there?” She looked up at him for the answer. “Is it an island?”

“Nay, ’tis the northern end of Ireland,” he told her. “On a very clear day like today ye can see it. The Irish used to raid Scotland. They haven’t come to Duin in my memory, although I understand they still raid this land. Perhaps we are too strong.”

“Because I am the steward of Duin. I have my duties to perform daily, Aggie. ’Tis the way of the world. A man toils. The woman keeps the house and bears the bairns,” Matthew told her.

He gulped. There was no way she could know that he had been thinking a great deal about her ever since she had arrived at Duin over a month ago. “Nay,” he boldly lied. “I should not miss ye.” He waited for her to either weep with disappointment or castigate him for his words.

Matthew Ferguson was suddenly uncomfortable. “If ye’ve seen enough, then,” he said in a tight voice, “I hae more important duties to attend to, mistress. We will return to the hall.” He went down the steep ladder that led from the roof to the stone floor of the tower’s landing first, then reached up with both hands to help her down.

June slipped into July and August. Agnes Baird was quite comfortable in her sister’s house. It was Angus who suggested she might want to remain for several more months. Annabella agreed with her husband that it would please her greatly, and Agnes was delighted. A messenger was sent off to Rath, and returned with permission. The sisters rode out daily. They hunted with the men, and shot at the archery butts set out in the courtyard. They spent lazy September afternoons lying in a meadow talking.

The days were becoming cooler and shorter. The warm hall was very welcoming in the evenings, when they would play chess with Angus or Matthew. The earl had been careful of his wife since the loss of their child, but now with the long nights he felt his need for her rising, and sensed that she felt the same. Catching her briefly alone in the hall late one afternoon, he took her hand up, kissed it, and said, “I miss ye. I need ye in my arms again, Annabella.”

Her gray eyes filled with warm laughter. “I thought ye would never ask,” she surprised him by saying. “I hae missed ye too. Jeannie said I was well healed several weeks back, but ye seemed more interested in the possibility of English raiders and the cattle than ye did in me, my lord.”

“What of the evening meal?” he asked her, looking to the servants, who were now setting the high board and dragging the trestles for the men from the side alcove, where they were kept after meals.

“It will be served whether we are at the high board or nae,” Annabella said, smiling. “But if ye would prefer to wait until after ye hae supped, my lord, I shall abide by yer decision.” She curtsied and, turning about, left the hall. Once inside her bedchamber Annabella undid the fastenings holding her bodice to her skirt. The skirt dropped away to the floor. Undoing her petticoats, she stepped from the pile of material, kicking her shoes off as she did. Unable to reach the laces of her bodice, she waited for him. He would, Annabella knew, enjoy doing it. She undid her long dark hair and began to brush it free of tangles, restraining her laughter when he burst through the door of her bedchamber. “Undo my bodice for me,” she greeted him before turning her back to him.

He acquiesced, unlacing the bodice, pulling it off of her, tossing it aside. Fascinated, she watched his hands coming about her to undo the ribbons holding her chemise closed. It fell away from her. He pushed the delicate garment from her shoulders, his hands slipping beneath her beautiful breasts. He groaned low in her ear as he felt the weight of them settle in his palms. His fingers tightened about the firm flesh, rubbing the nipples with the rough balls of his thumbs.

Pressing her against the bed, the earl knelt so he might undo her garters. Slowly he rolled the gossamer stockings down her shapely legs, his expert tongue following his fingers down the warm, soft flesh of her thighs as he divested each leg of its silken covering. As he drew each stocking from her feet he kissed each one, nibbling at her toes, which caused her to giggle.

Every inch of her seemed to be throbbing. With a great effort she stood up so she might undress him; he had entered her bedchamber in only his breeks and a shirt. She undid the ties of the shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Then Annabella pressed her own naked breasts against the smooth, warm flesh of his chest, rubbing her nipples against him quite wickedly.

“Aye,” she whispered in his ear before she licked it. Her hands moved to unfasten his breeks. He wore no drawers beneath, and as they fell away she reached about him to cup his firm buttocks in her hands, squeezing them lightly. “Have ye truly missed me, my lord? If ye would hae me believe it, ye must show me how much.” She took a hand and stroked the length of his manhood, reaching beneath it to cup him.

The earl groaned as fiery pleasure engulfed him. A brief year ago she had been a shy but curious virgin. He had taken that curiosity and taught her to satisfy him, to satisfy them both. She had proven to be an incredible pupil. Jesu! He groaned again as she fell to her knees to take him into her mouth. She had learned her lessons well, he considered as a bolt of wicked sensation shot through him. His long fingers tangled themselves in her thick hair, kneading her scalp as she brought his cock to raging life with her mouth, her tongue, and the skillful fingers that teased his balls. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring her delicious attentions.

In the early months of their marriage he had actually come to like her for the qualities that had nothing to do with her gorgeous, tempting body. He saw kindness, thoughtfulness, and intelligence. It was her clever mind that he found truly pleased him, and her instant loyalty to Duin. Then, when they had finally joined their bodies, he had been astounded by the perfection of her body. It had aroused in him a passion such as he had never known. Some might have thought it lust, and perhaps in the beginning it had been. But not now. He was in love with his wife, and could not imagine his life without her. To his relief she had responded in kind to his passion. “Enough, sweetheart,” he begged her.

Annabella arose gracefully, slipping her arms about his neck, her lithe body pressing against him. “Dinna play the lover, my lord. I need ye inside of me. Deep inside! Afterward we will sport ourselves with kisses and caresses, but now I very much need to be fucked, Angus, my lord and husband.”

He pressed her back against the edge of the bed, pushing her down, drawing her legs up and over his shoulders. “I am happy to oblige ye, madam,” he said thickly, guiding his engorged cock into her with an audible sigh of pleasure.

“Aye!” Holy Mother! His cock throbbed with life as he stood over her. Her eyes were shut to better experience the sensations, and she repeated, “Oh, aye, Angus! But ’twill be even more perfect, my darling, if ye will . . . Ahhh! Oh! Aye! Just like that! Dinna stop! Dinna ye dare stop!” Her hands fisted themselves into the coverlet beneath.

At first he moved with slow and majestic strokes, pushing as deep as he could, slowly withdrawing almost all the way until he could see his tormenting was beginning to drive her wild with passion. After a time he increased his tempo, his cock flashing furiously back and forth with great rapidity. Her pleasurable moans of delight increased his own desire. He felt invincible. As if he could go on like this forever and ever.

They were both panting as each stroke of his cock brought them closer and closer to pure perfection. Annabella burned and froze with her need for him. She tightened herself about him again, wresting a cry of delight from him. Knowing that he wanted her, needed her, every bit as much as she did him excited Annabella. The rapture began to build, swiftly rising up to overwhelm her. She opened her mouth to scream her satisfaction as she was rocked by spasm after spasm after spasm.

Angus roared in reply as his love juices burst forth in a torrent of excess. For a few moments he remained buried within her, unable to withdraw, for she was so delicious. Finally he withdrew his temporarily appeased manhood from her momentarily gratified body. “Are ye content for the moment, ye lustful vixen?” he asked, smiling down at her.

“Nay, I have nae done my duty by ye or by Duin until I have given ye an heir. I wonder if the child I lost was a lad or a lass,” Annabella said. “I have often wondered.”

“Get under the coverlet,” he said, and he joined her. “Dinna think of it, sweetheart. God will provide us with an heir when the time is right.” His arms went about her, and he stroked her head comfortingly.

Ohh, she loved him! She had never thought it of herself that she could fall in love with a man who didn’t admit to loving her. But why on earth was she complaining? Annabella considered, as she drifted into sleep. Angus Ferguson was a good husband.

It was October when word finally reached Duin that the queen had been delivered on the nineteenth of June of a fair son who was to be called James, and would be the sixth of his name. But the queen remained estranged from her son’s father. Though he had been cleared of any culpability in the murder of David Riccio, Mary had come to despise the degenerate drunk Henry, Lord Darnley, had become.

“Well, she did,” Agnes retorted. “No one wanted her to wed him, but she insisted. Now she has discovered the truth of what he is, which her advisers saw beforehand. Didn’t Lord Bothwell say it the last time he visited?”

“Which is as good a reason as I can think of for this nebulous thing they call love having naught to do with marriage,” Agnes said. “Marriage has always been a practical matter between families, and so it should remain. The queen will have Darnley for a husband until death parts them.”

“Aggie!” Annabella was shocked. “James Hepburn is a fine gentleman, and a close friend of this family. It does not become ye to repeat the tittle-tattle ye have heard from the servants, who no doubt tittle-tattle about ye. Perhaps ye should return home to Rath, for it would seem the freedoms we have allowed ye here at Duin have gone to yer head,” the countess said sternly.

“Ohh, dinna send me back to Rath!” Agnes Baird pleaded with her sister. “I couldn’t bear it, Annabella. It is so dull there, and our parents will be seeking to find a suitable husband for me. Robbie will nae chose a wife for himself until we are all wed, and Da grows anxious for another heir for Rath.”

Matthew Ferguson blushed bright red. Her instincts were correct, although he was not of a mind to admit to it yet. What if he did and she mocked him, as she was teasingly doing now? “Ye’re not old enough to be kissed,” he said loftily.

“Enough,” Annabella said quietly. “Behave yerself, Aggie, and ye may remain at Duin. Matthew, stop baiting her. My sister is nae too young to be kissed, but ye are too old to tease her in such a manner.”

October was gone with its grouse hunting. November came, and the pigs were slaughtered for the winter, save a few. Then it was December, and they celebrated Agnes Baird’s sixteenth birthday on the feast of Saint Nicholas, which fell on the sixth day of the month. Matthew Ferguson pulled her into a dark corner later, and gave Agnes her first kiss. She surprised him by kissing him back. January came, and then the short month of February.

It was at the end of that month that Bothwell appeared briefly at Duin. Closeted with Angus Ferguson in the earl’s privy chamber, he said without preamble, “Ye must nae be the last to know. Darnley is dead. Murdered. And there are those who would lay the blame at my door, but I swear to ye that I dinna do it.”

“I suspect Moray and Maitland had a hand in it. The queen’s half brother did his usual disappearing act before it happened, a sure sign that he was involved,” James Hepburn said dryly. “The queen had gone to the wedding of one of her servants. I was there too. We had visited Darnley earlier, for she will nae have him in the same house wi’ her any longer, and he has nae been well. He was lodged at Kirk o’ Field house. Someone filled the cellar wi’ gunpowder and blew it to smithereens. They found Darnley and his servant in the orchard garden. The servant had his throat cut, but it appeared as if someone had strangled Darnley as he fled.”

“Shocked and saddened, and totally unaware of how Darnley’s murder can be used against her,” James Hepburn replied. “Now that there is a male heir, they have decided to make her unessential. But they can’t dispense wi’ her as long as I am there to protect her, and I will be until my death.”

“She put him wi’ John Erskine, the Earl of Mar. They are housed at Stirling. They won’t harm the bairn. ’Tis Mary they would be rid of, Angus,” Bothwell said.

“Ye must first defend yerself, James,” the Earl of Duin advised. “Ye canna help her if they tangle ye up in legalities. Maitland, for all his qualities as a good servant, would be the queen’s only trusted adviser, as Cecil is to Elizabeth. He is clever enough to manage Moray, but ye are a different animal. Ye’re in love wi’ her, and our queen hae not Elizabeth Tudor’s knack for survival. She is ruled by her heart, and she trusts too freely.”

James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, flushed at Angus Ferguson’s suggestion that he loved the queen. He did love her. He had ever since he had met her at the French court years earlier. But a Hepburn would never be considered worthy of Mary Stuart. He might be a man in love, but he was not a fool. “I have to protect her,” he said. “My honor will nae allow me to do otherwise, Angus.”

“Then first make certain they affix the blame for this murder on someone else, James. Whatever happens, I am yer friend and yer ally,” the Earl of Duin said quietly. “As ye will nae desert the queen, I will nae desert either of ye. I will keep the faith.”

Bothwell swallowed down the remainder of the whiskey in his dram cup in order to have time to regain control of his emotions. Finally he said, “I am grateful, Angus, for I know how much ye Fergusons of Duin prize your anonymity.”

“I agree,” Angus replied. “But James Hepburn is my friend. Remember that, little brother. I dinna gie my friendship lightly, but I will also protect Duin.”

Annabella agreed with both her husband and with Matthew. A close friendship must not be betrayed, but neither must Duin be put in any danger. She was glad to be an unimportant woman married to an unimportant border lord. She had seen what power and the desire for ultimate power could do the night she had witnessed the murder of David Riccio. She felt great sympathy for her queen. Few women had her strength of character, or were capable of ruling over a land constantly fought over by a group of contentious lords and their families.

The queen’s cousin, Elizabeth Tudor, had learned the lessons of survival well in her difficult childhood. Mary, however, had been cosseted and pampered at every turn. She had been wise enough upon her return to Scotland to seek good counsel from her half brother, James Stewart, whom she had created Earl of Moray; and from William Maitland, whom she had made her secretary of state; but when her desires conflicted with that counsel, trouble was certain to ensue. Annabella wondered whether that trouble would now overwhelm Mary Stuart, and lead to her eventual downfall. Only time would reveal the answer to her question.