That night William sat on the edge of the ornate bed and undressed Bess. He stood her between his thighs and caressed her belly. Her skin was so taut and smooth it looked like ivory satin, and her breasts were lush and full. “You are so beautiful.” The light from the fire played across her flesh, turning her skin to glowing amber. He traced kisses across the lovely outward curve of her belly.
“Do you really want a girl, William?”
“Yes, a beautiful little liar like her mother.” His hands slipped around her and cupped her buttocks. “Bess, you are always honest to a fault. Why the devil did you lie to Frances?”
“I don't want them counting on their fingers and whispering behind their hands about me,” she cried passionately. “I want no scandal attached to the name of Cavendish. We'll leave the scandal to the bloody Tudors!”
“But, my darling, they will know when you go into labor,” he pointed out gently.
“No, they will not!” she insisted stubbornly. “Next month I shall go into seclusion at Northaw, and no one in London will know what date I am delivered.”
His eyes brimmed with amusement. “You are so willful and stubborn.”
“Qualities that arouse you, I see.”
“I'm sorry, sweetheart, I can't help it—you're so ripe and luscious.”
“Don't be sorry; I want you to make love to me!” She slipped down between his muscled thighs and touched her lips to his arousal, then took him into her mouth.
“Don't, you know I'll spill, then what will you do?”
“But you are too careful—you are afraid to put your weight on me.”
“Come on, you know there are other ways to take your pleasure.” He pulled the red silk curtains about them and stretched out supine upon the bed. “You enjoy being on top sometimes. Mount me and ride me. This way you will be able to take as much of me or as little of me as you can. You will be in control.”
“You don't like to give up control.” Bess straddled him.
“Tonight I will. I'll be putty in your hands.”
“Marble in my hands.” Her voice was sultry as she reached out to toy with him. Then she sank down upon him slowly, sheathing him inch by delicious inch until he was seated to the hilt. She splayed her hands against his hips and slowly lifted until he was almost fully withdrawn, then she sank down upon him, making him groan with a hunger of his own.
He could feel the brush of her thighs and her bottom against his groin. When she bent her head to look down at him, her flaming hair cascaded down, whispering across the muscles of his chest and his rib cage. His hands came up to caress her body, and her luscious breasts spilled into his palms.
She eased into a tantalizing rhythm that inflamed him. As she slid sleekly around him, he wanted to thrust hard and deep but held himself in check, allowing her to lead the way.
“Watch this,” she whispered.
As Bess began to increase her speed and her undulations became intensely erotic, the red silk walls about them began to flutter and ripple in the breeze she created with her gyrations. Then she began to ride him like a stallion, and the crimson silk flew like victory banners streaming past them as she galloped to her goal.
He was reeling with need as fire snaked through his groin, and he thrust wildly until they exploded together, shuddering out their release.
Bess finally wrote home to tell her family that she and William were expecting a child, and her favorite sister, Jane, came to be with her. The moment Jane arrived, Bess moved her household to Northaw, and William took Jane aside the following day.
“Bess will never admit it, but the baby was conceived before we were married. She could go into labor at any time now. Mistress Bagshaw's sister is a midwife and she's already here.” He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. “Jane, I'm worried to death about her.”
Jane was only momentarily shocked. Bess did everything her own way. “I'll get her to bed. Don't worry, William, when Bess does something, she invariably does it well.”
Jane's prophesy turned out to be true. The following afternoon Bess delivered a baby girl. Her daughter had not red hair, but the same shade of dark auburn as her father. The very next morning the proud mother was sitting up in bed, feeding her daughter, and looking radiantly beautiful. She told William her plans for the christening. “I want Frances and Henry Grey to be her godparents, but we won't ask them until June.”
“But, darling, that is two months away. Babies are baptized within days, not months.”
“There is no law about the time of baptism of which I'm aware!”
Again William took Jane aside. “Can you talk to her and persuade her she is being silly about this?”
Jane looked at him in surprise. “William, Bess isn't like other people, you must know that by now. When she makes up her mind about something, nothing and no one can persuade her otherwise.”
As Bess decreed, little Frances Cavendish was christened in June with Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk, standing as godfather. Frances Grey, Duchess of Suffolk, and her close friend Nan Dudley, Countess of Warwick, were the two exalted godmothers. This was a far-reaching choice since the Dudleys were politically powerful. A huge christening party followed at Northaw, where no one seemed to know or care that baby Frances was over two months old.