I press a hand to my thickening belly, studying the lump through my no longer forgiving dress. No prayers this time needed. I knew I might conceive again but this was quicker than before. I'm getting heavier by the day, everything I put in my mouth goes right to my gut or thighs.
I couldn't be happier.
The sun is shining. It's a beautiful summer day a Hatefield. The quickening confirmed what I already guessed and within the past week my belly went from puffy to a thick roll.
Owen laughs, swinging me off my horse and into his arms. His hands immediatley slide down my sides to my fat belly.
"I would ask why you cut the trip short but," he grins, hands firmly on my gut.
"Yes your little Welshman is getting tall," I say, amused. We suspected I was carrying antoher child when I left. I couldn't write to confirm of course. "The ltitle King doesn't need me anyway. I thought I could make it but this son of yours wants to be as tall as his Papa."
"i will give the ltitle Frenchman, another talk," Owen says, but he's beaming, "How do you know it's snot a girl."
"Too big, and he's low," I say, leaning aginst him, "Where's Edmund?"
"He's napping, we went all the way down to the river this morning," Owen kisses my cheek, "Do you want me to carry you?"
"No I'll make it the rest of the way in," I laugh. But I am tired. This baby is heavy in me. I love it. I want to go lie on the lawn and wait for it to move. "The next four months I just want to watch this baby grow and get fat. I'm not leaving again."
"I think we can arrange it," he kisses my hair.
And I don't want to leave again. The fields are in bloom. Come winter I can cuddle my babies before a fire, with Owen's arms around me. This isn't what I wanted when I was a girl. but it's all I want right now. Peace is all that truly matters. My life will be in peace, and so will my sons. They get to be nobody at all. No crowns or battles or wars. We get to simply exist, in utter peace.
Catherine spent the rest of her life in privacy. When she died she called Henry VI to her side.
Her three sons would remain friends the rest of their lives.
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Dowager (Hand in Hand Chronicles)
Historical FictionWidowed at the age of 10, Isabela of Valois is held captive by the men who killed her husband. Everyone that ever cared for her has either died, or given her away. Now she has to start again after losing two families, now a dowager queen. Widowed af...
