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Guest (1) [chapter 3]: Thank you so much for your lovely review! The first bit of the chapter is for you :)
Guest (2) [chapter 3]: Thanks so much for reading and enjoying it!
Guest (3) [chapter 3]: Thanks so very much! Here's the next chapter :)
Guest (4) [chapter 3]: I will probably time jump so we can get closer to the arrival of their first child. Yes, I said first because I plan to make them have more children. Not as much as Henry and Catherine did, they'd have their hands full but they will have more children! I hope you enjoy their marriage and parenthood!
I will update Unrequited soon for my readers who read that one. It is coming to an end soon so I can focus on ATEOTB, this story. You guys are the best readers and fans in the world.
Mary awoke to the sensation of someone rubbing her feet. She sat up, making the hands disappear and she laughed when she saw Francis sheepishly looking at her from the end of their bed.
"What are you doing?" She asked, her laughter becoming soft giggles of awe.
"What do you think?" He retorted, trying to instil some confidence into his voice. "I am helping my wife through this stressful time in her life."
Mary couldn't help but let out a snort, wriggling her toes in front of her husband's face for him to continue. She found it sweet, the blonde idiot. No one had ever rubbed her feet for her, she had no reason for her feet to be rubbed before.
"My feet are not even fat yet," she mumbled as he continued, using the tips of his nails to tickle the bottom of her feet.
She reacted by curling up her feet, giggling. When she was sure he wouldn't attempt to tickle her again, she placed her feet back on his lap. It was relaxing, adorable and she felt stupidly happy.
She felt like nothing bad could happen with Francis by her side, and their marriage as strong as ever. No one could change the strong feelings they felt for each other and she was angry with herself for even pushing Francis away during her traumatic ordeal with the rape. Then Condé became involved and Mary's life had been upturned once again.
But Francis stayed true and loyal, hoping that his wife would return to him one day. Eventually, she had and she showed everyone just how much her husband meant to her, how much she valued him.
He did not need mistresses like Henry because he had all he could ever want or need with her. His wife. His queen.
"I wish I could stay," she said, yawning. God, she felt tired a lot more now. "I promised the girls a day of sourcing the best materials for our dresses."
"For what?" Francis asked, playing with her toes.
She smiled a little. "A celebration in a month and a half's time."
"Whose?" Francis feigned curiosity. "Is it for anyone I know?"
She raised an amused eyebrow. "I think you know him. He's handsome, blonde and his eyes... God, his eyes can send me melting onto the floor with one glance."
"What man has my wife melting onto the floor?" Francis asked, a smile making itself known on his face.
"I don't know..." Mary trailed off daringly. "He's a king. A really handsome and just king. I do not know if he has a queen though."
"If he is as just as you say he is, there must be a strong woman behind that. A king like him will have a beautiful queen," Francis replied, his eyes staring intently into hers. "A beautiful queen who is the most wonderful person he knows and she has a kind soul. I am certain she would be a good mother should they have children, of course."
Mary blushed furiously, tears springing to her eyes. "They are having children."
"They are?" Francis asked, smiling softly. "I am happy for them. Ecstatic, even."
"Sadly, they are not just a boy and a girl and their child will be scrutinised by so many people," Mary said quietly, breaking eye contact. "I wish they were just a boy and a girl so their child could live a life free of any threats and seas of snakes."
By the time she looked up seconds after, her husband was right in front of her. She placed her forehead against his and sighed wistfully.
As much as she could bear the weight of a crown on her head, she could not bear having her child affected in any way that could hurt them. Guards would have to be increased and only the people they trusted would be able to see and tend to their baby. Could they even trust the governesses and the nannies?
"We should take some time away from Court," Francis suggested. "A month away."
"As much as I'd love to, we cannot," Mary told him, placing a hand on his cheek to which he placed his over her own. "France and Scotland need us, they will always need us and we must protect them." Tears clogged her throat and she let out a shaky breath. "Ignore me, my pregnancy has made me so emotional."
"Do not apologise," Francis said, kissing her lips. "Scream, rage, do what you wish because you can. I understand, my love, I do!"
She looked into his eyes. "Maybe a month away?"
"I have told you about the duchy I gifted Bash and Kenna. Perhaps they might be willing to accept two guests this soon?"
"The King and Queen of France and Scotland?" Mary asked gently. "I doubt it. They may want a bit of time alone-"
"The duchy is big enough for the four of us. I know you would worry about Kenna's welfare as she will worry about yours," Francis cut her off gently. "It will give us all a chance to recover and strengthen our marriages. What do you say?"
She smiled brightly. "I say you tell your brother he's going home sooner rather than later," she replied, kissing him as she pulled him on top of her. "But before you do..."
...
Kenna bit her lip, crossing her arms as she stood across from her husband, a particular item of his in her grip.
"Kenna, please," Bash begged her, moving to get on the bed to reach her on the other side of their bed.
She backed away, shaking her head. "No. Just one day, Bash. One day to spend with me and not solve everyone else's problems."
"I do have other pairs, you do realise that?" Bash asked, but she already had thought about that.
"I would like to see you try and attempt to unlock that trunk," she told him. "Especially as you do not have the key to do so."
Bash cursed, giving his wife an annoyed look. "Kenna, the sooner I solve this issue, the sooner we can do whatever you wish for us to do."
She laughed, heading towards the windows. She opened them and hovered his boot outside.
"Me or boring nobles? Choose wisely, husband," she said, wriggling his boot in front of him.
"Fine, I choose you," he said, admitting defeat and pulling the sheets down the bed. "Are you going to close those windows and join me?" He asked as he got into the bed.
Kenna beamed, throwing his shoe onto the ground of their bedchamber. She closed the windows and hurried into the bed to kiss him hard.
"What a wise decision," she told him, hugging him tightly. "I just need you to be mine for a little bit, alright?"
"Kenna, you know it is you that I'll come to, always," Bash replied, kissing her head. "I will be your knight in shining armour."
There was a knock on the door and Kenna groaned as Bash got up to answer it. She pulled a face when he sent her an apologetic look as he opened the door.
"Bash," Leith said, eyeing his feet. "Why do you only have one-"
"Don't ask," Bash cut him off. "It's a long story that involves me running around a bed and almost losing my shoe to the ground outside."
Leith grinned. "Marital issues?"
"Of the sort," Bash said, eyeing an insulted Kenna. He returned his gaze to Leith. "I can't make it. Whatever it is, deal with it on my behalf."
"The guards will only listen to you or to Francis," Leith explained. "And Francis is busy with Mary."
"See?" Kenna's voice rang out. "Even Francis took a day off for his wife!"
Bash forced a strained smile at Leith's way. "Thank you very much," he said through gritted teeth.
"Did I cause some marital discord?" Leith asked him, feigning innocence. "Forgive me, my Lord. It is just that I cannot get the jobs done without your authority."
"You have it. I will write the guards a message that you are acting on my orders," Bash replied, rubbing his head. "If you come across more crossroads, I beg of you, do not send for me."
"If you do, I will hurt you in more ways than one!" His wife called out from behind him. "You are dismissed, Leith Bayard."
Leith snorted but he quickly made his exit, before he stopped and realised that he had no message to take with him. He watched as Bash quickly scrawled something down and took the message before Kenna could threaten his life even more.
"Where were we?" Kenna asked breathily when he joined her once again. "I believe we were cuddling."
"And being sickeningly romantic?" Bask retorted lightly. "Dear God, what did I get myself into again?"
He laughed when Kenna hit him. Of course, he loved her very much. She was his forever, he couldn't have been luckier to marry such a woman like her.
She was independent, fierce, she spoke her mind and she was spirited. Too spirited and happy and it made him happy as if she was a contagious illness. Despite her flaws, he loved her with all of his heart and one day, they will share that love with a child.
"Have I told you about my grandmother?" He asked his wife.
She shook her head. "No. I do wear her ring though," she replied, holding her hand to her eyesight. "A beautiful item that I am glad and honoured to wear."
"Jeanne de Bartarnay. Or Jeanne Anastasia de Bartarnay... I was the only one to ever call her Anastasia," he said.
"Why?" Kenna asked, smiling softly.
"I was her only grandson. My great-grandmother, her mother, called her Anastasia too. She died when I was very young, but my memories of her are very fond..."
Kenna kissed his cheek. "I can tell," she whispered. "She must have been a large part of your life."
"At times she protected me from Henry when I was four. Not that my father could hurt me until the time when he threatened to kill me," he confessed.
"What?" Kenna breathed out. "Our wedding day?" She realised, knowing that their vows at swordpoint wouldn't have been the only time the king tried to harm her husband.
"Yes," Bash said. "I had saved Francis's life. He is my brother, I will always protect him no matter what is happening between us that pull us on different sides. Father was not happy, he had sent guards to kill me on the day I was meant to go to Spain. Francis stood in front of me the minute he drew his sword my way. I had accepted death then."
Kenna shook her head in disbelief. "I am glad he's dead. I know he was your father, but plotting to have his son murdered unless he married his mistress is awful! Just abominable! And what he did to me..."
"I thought if my grandmother was there, she would have given him what for, despite the crown on his head." Bash smiled sadly. "Now I have you fighting my corner. Fighting for my life, protecting me when I do not look over my shoulder as well as I should."
"Of course," Kenna said to him. "You're my husband and I will always protect you." She kissed him. "If we have a daughter, I would love to name her after your grandmother."
Bash kissed her lips then placed a quick kiss on the tip of her nose which made her giggle. "I would love that. You are amazing."
"And you have potential," she teased, receiving his fingers tickling her side as she squealed. "We better start packing if-"
"Bash I have a request," Francis said, entering their bedchamber and cutting Kenna off.
The couple stayed as they were as Bash rolled his eyes, sending his wife a 'help me' look. She chuckled, turning to Francis who needed her husband.
"And that is, brother dearest?" Bash asked him.
"Mary and I need time away from the castle. I was hoping you would entertain guests at your new home this soon," Francis said, sitting at the end of their bed.
Kenna nodded excitedly. "That is fine! Oh, I can show Mary around and it will be lovely! I hope there are gardens. Are there gardens?"
"Yes," Francis replied, laughing at his brother's expression. "And no, we won't disturb your private time. What you and your wife get up to will not be any of our business."
"Francis..." Bash warned. "But yes, you both are welcome."
Francis beamed happily. "We leave in two hours."
"What? I can't pack in two hours!" Kenna said, getting out of the bed and heading to her wardrobe. "Two hours is not enough time!"
"I will have servants to help you," Francis said, playfully rolling his eyes. "Let me leave, we will meet in the courtyard by then."
Watching his wife rush around, choosing the best dresses to bring along, he started to laugh. His brother had left and she still seemed as flustered as ever, searching for pairs of heels in one of her trunks and throwing his boots out of the one she unlocked with a key.
"Your breasts?" He asked, seeing where she'd placed the key. "I should have known."
She grinned, throwing him a mischievous look. "I hope that is not the only thing you love about me."
"I can show you exactly what parts of your body I love," he told her, slipping out of the bed and grabbing his other shoe to put on. "But we have to pack."
"We do. Now, start packing already!"
Bash looked around. He spotted a few discarded clothing on the ground that was clean, the ones he had tried on and thrown down after his wife had rejected his clothing styles that morning.
He gathered them up and threw them in a trunk, pushing it towards the doors. "Done."
"For the love of the God we serve!" She cried out, heading to his trunk. "You are the laziest man I know."
"I resent that," he replied, grinning. "Is my wife going to fold my clothing?"
"No. Her husband will do that himself," she replied, slamming a shirt against his chest. "And she will forbid the servants from helping!"
"Fine," Bash said, watching her return to her jewellery and shoes. "I love you."
She looked up from the trunk, a soft smile on her lips as she turned to him. "I love you more."
...
Kenna couldn't believe her eyes. They looked side to side and she titled her head in slight confusion.
"Catherine had all of this and she barely spent any time here?" She asked, turning to Francis as he helped Mary out of the carriage.
"She used it to entertain guests," Francis replied. "Shall I give you all a tour, Duchess?"
Kenna bit back a smile and nodded. She accepted her brother-in-law's other arm as Bash followed behind the three.
"It comes with a winery," Francis explained as they walked on.
"A winery?" Mary repeated. "Your mother had a winery?"
He gave her a wry smile. "You can probably imagine how much convincing I had to do to have her give it up. A few farmlands surrounding it, we passed one earlier. It also has its own chapel."
"Francis, this is too much," Kenna said as they entered the chateau. "A winery, farmlands and chapel?"
"And its own lake," Francis added quickly.
Kenna turned around to give her husband wide, excited eyes. "A lake!"
"It is perfect for raising a family," Francis said, giving Kenna a smile. "And Bash doesn't need to worry, it has a stable nearby."
"As if that is the only reason I accepted your offer," Bash replied, folding his hands behind his back. "It is Kenna's approval you need."
"You have it!" Kenna told them, almost squealing as she looked around. "Oh, I've always wanted a large estate."
Mary turned to her. "I thought you wanted nobles to bow down at your feet?" She teased her friend.
Kenna blushed. "Well, some things have changed..."
After the tour, Kenna settled inside the master bedchamber. She was surprised to see a wardrobe full of new dresses and heels, all in her size. They were made from the finest of materials; silks, laces and velvet. Velvet.
"Do you like them?" She heard her husband's voice ask.
She turned to see him closing the door behind him. "H-How?"
"Francis," Bash replied, rolling his eyes. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he was courting you."
"We can't think that!" Kenna replied, tutting. "Because it's you he always calls," she teased, pulling a dress out from the wardrobe. "My favourite colour - lilac."
Bash smiled softly. "It's beautiful. Only the best for my wife."
"This must have cost a pretty fortune, though," she said, disheartened. "If they were gifts, we cannot accept them all. Not whilst children are out there starving."
She sat down on the chaise, the dress still in her hands. She thought of Pascal, how the boy must have lived before he was in their care. He could have had days when he wondered if he was going to eat or not. Days when he was watching his back for survival.
"The workers and farmers, do they have children?" She asked suddenly.
"They do," came her husband's reply.
She beamed. "I do not think Catherine was humble enough to treat them well whenever she stayed. We should host a party for them. As a 'thank you' for being under our employment."
Bash was surprised. His wife surprised him every single day. He had called her selfish, but her selfless side always came at the most peculiar of times. And unexpected, of course.
"I think that is a wonderful idea," he finally said.
"Can we afford all of this?" She asked fearfully. "I never did ask. We aren't used to such vast amounts of living, are we?"
He chuckled. "No, we're not," he agreed. "We can."
"Not through Francis, I hope?"
"You do not need to worry about-"
"Bash... The last thing I want is to argue about wealth with you," she said softly.
He gave her a smile, sitting beside her. "I have made some enquiries. I took on a land mine, it is very profitable and we have other means."
"So we can afford to live like this?" She asked hopefully. "I do not want us to live outside our means. I will be happy as long as you're my husband and with me."
Bash placed his hands on her cheeks, his thumb brushing over her lips. "You're a duchess, my love. You worry about nothing and I will look after you," he replied, slipping her hair behind her ears so he could kiss her lips. "And yes, nobles will bow down at your feet now."
"Oh, be quiet!" She giggled, hugging him tightly. "I want to ride a horse," she mumbled against his chest.
He looked down at her. "Do you even know to mount one?"
"Yes! My older half-brothers taught me as a girl!" She replied excitedly, looking up to see him. "Football was not the only boyish thing I did. It was part of our lessons with our governess. My childhood was very fruitful."
"Our future children will have the best childhood," he said to her.
"They will," she agreed. "Thirty minutes."
"Until what?"
She grinned. "Until we go horseriding, silly!"
"You are serious?" He asked, startled.
She gave him an annoyed look. "Some things I kept secret because they were too painful for me to reflect on, but I was a skilled horse rider. I loved the outdoors too. After my mother's death, I was suddenly the lady of the house, and I grew up quickly looking after my younger siblings. I had no time to have fun until I followed Mary to France."
"That's why you were... let's say excitable," Bash replied, taking her hand. "Kenna, you are my wife. Your father can't hurt you."
"He does not hurt me, his sad gazes do..." She trailed off sadly. "Looks of wanting, of pain, of grief and sadness... My mother may have been his second and last wife and she meant the world to him. I couldn't help that I was her spitting image. She was the most beautiful woman I knew from what I can remember."
"Secrets make us who we are. Not all of them we will reveal to each other. When we are ready, it will be the right time. Do not be forced because we are wed," he told her. "I love you, no matter how much you keep from me. As long as your secrets do not damage our marriage."
She gave him a nod. "They won't. I love you," she whispered.
"I love you more. Now and forevermore," Bash replied readily as he kissed her lips. "I will meet you downstairs," he said against her lips.
He left her alone and she smiled happily, liking herself to a schoolgirl. He was so sweet, so caring. What a great difference to how their marriage started off the first time with Henry threatening them madly throughout their vows for life. Who would have thought she would end up with the most handsome, humble, kind, strong and brave man like Bash?
God had blessed her indeed.
...
"Bash?"
Bash turned away from his horse to send his wife an acknowledging glance. He turned back to his horse then stopped, turning back to his wife once again with his eyes as wide as plates.
"Kenna?"
Kenna spun around for him, showing off her horseriding outfit. "Do you like it?"
Bash looked her up and down a few times before settling on her face. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Most women wore dresses, his wife was wearing leather breeches. She had boots on, up to her knees and heeled and she held a pair of brown leather gloves in her hands that matched her breeches and boots.
"Sebastian!" She called him, crossing her arms as her lips settled on a frown.
"Beautiful," he managed to get out. "I have never seen you wear breeches, Kenna."
She grinned. "I did say I was an expert rider."
"We will see about that," he replied. "Where did you even get these clothes from?"
She shrugged. "I have always had them. Never felt the need to wear them until now. Come along, close your mouth or you will catch flies," she told him, getting onto her horse with ease.
"Oh, alright," he mumbled, getting on to his horse once he saw that she did not require his help to mount her stallion.
She was already heading out the stableyard as he was settling himself on the horse, still shaking his head in slight awe and disbelief.
"Wait for me!" He called out, making her turn and grin.
"I don't think I will. After all, we are seeing who is the more skilled rider..." She trailed off, kicking her horse into a gallop rather than a trot.
He laughed, quickly following after her. His wife never failed to surprise him.
Inside the chateau, Mary accepted a letter presented on a silver tray from one of the servants. She thanked him, dismissing him straight after.
She was surprised to see the familiar handwriting of Kenna's father, the same father who more or less disowned his daughter. Had Kenna informed her father of her life? But how could he have known so soon?
"Oh, you have it," Francis said, entering their temporary bedchamber. "I received that back at Court. It was addressed to you, so I thought you'd receive it once we arrived."
Mary gave her husband a bright smile as she lazed on the chaise, opening the letter up with a delicate hand.
[Dear Queen Mary of Scots,
I write to enquire to you about my daughter, Kenna. I have tried to begin communications with her, but she has rebuffed my attempts. She even went as far as ignoring her brothers and sister. Her sister is to be wed to a Frenchman in a year's time. I will need her to be trained for the last bit of her training as a wife and I believed my eldest daughter could support her. Paisley is only fourteen, she does not know all the lessons about being a wedded wife. I apologise to call upon you, our queen, for such a trivial matter, but I find myself contemplating what would have happened if I protected Kenna. If I had stopped that king from marrying her off to his bastard. The only thing I know of this man is that he is a man of the people. Whatever that means, I do not know. All I want if for him to treat my daughter well and with the respect she requires. She is still her mother's daughter after all. I digress. If you could take it upon yourself to ask your lady-in-waiting if she will house her sister in hers and her husband's home, I will be much grateful, Your Majesty.
Much sincere love, Your Majesty. Duke R. A. Beaton of Clan Beaton of Castle Barton and Scotland.]
Mary blinked back tears, looking up at her husband. "Have I told you about how Kenna and I met?"
"No, you haven't," Francis replied, wondering why she was suddenly overwhelmed with tears.
"We were two. I had pulled her hair, yet she refused to cry about it. She instead gave me the rose she had collected from her mother's garden. It was not the first gift I had received, but it was the most cherished one. Every day, I stared at that flower. My little hands gripped it until it died and I felt the grief and sadness from its loss. Kenna gave me another one and another one. She kept giving me roses until my chambers were filled with loose flowers everywhere. I was the most content girl in the world. Not a queen, a girl. She was the first one to make me feel like a girl..."
She felt Francis's lips on her head and she leant into his chest, handing him the letter. She watched him read it and he turned to her, kissing her head again.
"Kenna's sister is coming to France. Do you think she will approve?" He asked.
Mary nodded. "Her younger siblings were everything to her. She raised them, her mother had died when Paisley was only three and Lachlan, a newborn. How will this work? She and Bash are starting a family, they will be here most of the time and her sister will unsettle things."
"They will work it out," Francis assured her. "Maybe she could also fix things with her father."
"Now, that will be difficult to do," Mary said, sighing. "They are both as stubborn as each other, but her father is a very no-nonsense man. He may be feeling lonely. Or even worse, be sick! If he's writing to her with desperation and an excuse, he may be covering things off. I do not want Kenna to regret not making things right with him, he's the only father she has and parent she has left."
"Do not stress yourself out worrying about it. Let Kenna decide what she will do," Francis said. "Do not decide for her."
Mary relented, relaxing her mind as she closed her eyes. She rested her head on his lap and she smiled to herself.
"I tire easily. I wish I could sleep all day," she mumbled, yawning. It was not even evening.
"You can. That is the amazing thing about being away from the Court. Just sleep. Get as much rest as you can because once our child arrives, we will be watching them as they sleep every day."
She turned so she could manoeuvre her head to look at him. "Yes, we will. Our little prince."
"Or a princess."
"You really want a daughter and not a son?" She asked surprised. "What about us protecting our lines and thrones?"
Francis shrugged in indifference. "I have a great feeling we will be surrounded by many children, Mary. Girls, boys, we will have them and love them. I do not care for the order they come in at. Elizabeth of England was the second child and daughter of her father and she is queen."
"Not for long," Mary whispered uncertainly.
"No, not for long," her husband replied. "Either way, I will be glad to be a father."
She sighed sadly. "But our child won't be your first child, will they? We cannot forget that you publicly claimed Lola's son despite our tries to have Lord Julien father him. Was it because you did not believe I could bear you a child after all the times we have tried?"
"Mary, do not doubt your-"
"It is, isn't it?" She asked, sniffling. "You claimed John Phillip because you believed I could never be pregnant."
"Mary, God no!" Francis cried out, almost making her jump. "I claimed him because I believed it was the right thing to do. You see how everyone treats my brother because of what he means. My father claimed him, never gave him a name and people tried to have my flesh and blood killed because of that. Then when he is almost a king, more people come to hurt him. I just did not want the same for John."
"He would have been protected, though!" Mary replied. "Julien would have protected him, made him his heir... Why, Francis? Why would you hurt our marriage, our reign?"
He sighed, rubbing his face. "I have no explanation. I am sorry, I acted just as my father did, no matter how you look at it. Once his marriage proposal is sorted out, he won't overrule our children in any way."
"You've legitimised him," Mary reminded him. "He will have a claim-"
"He won't-"
"You can't be sure," she mumbled. "As much as I care for Lola, I can't have John Phillip harming our unborn child's future. H-He has to go."
Francis looked away. "I will see what I can do."
"I know he is your son and you will be upset, but I can't bear any more unexpected news," she told him. "I can't bear any nasty surprises."
He pressed his lips against hers. "And you will never bear them," he told her. "You are my future, our child is my future. You both are all that counts to me. John will always be my son, and perhaps it is safer if he is away from the Court. Lord knows who is out there to harm my children."
"Thank you," Mary whispered. "I'm so sorry-"
"Don't be. It's the right thing and one day, he will return and I can get to reconcile on better terms."
She smiled happily, settling herself into a comfortable position. It wasn't long until her eyes closed and soft snores left her mouth, the sensation of her husband's fingers weaving through her hair.
Their family was already stronger than they thought.