That Mary was a prisoner was literally true, but she had more comfort and luxury in her captivity than most free Englishmen. Not for her the rack, the whip or the dungeon. She was housed in the best estates in the land and many felt that there was more than a little sympathy for her among her host-gaolers.
Beautiful, regal and feminine, she had never given up the idea of returning to the throne of Scotland and considered the throne of England rightfully hers as well. Although she pleaded total innocence of the plots to raise her to the place to which she aspired, few believed in her words.
Damn. How could Elizabeth, with all her acumen and hot, Tudor temper, be so soft? Prisoner or not, as long as Mary lived, she was a real threat.
There were few men at court who would have welcomed the change of reign. William Cecil Lord Burghley, would be the first to suffer, quickly followed by Walsingham, who had risen through his favour, and the Earl of Leicester.
Leicester had been convicted, with his father, the Duke of Northumberland, by Elizabeth's sister, Bloody Mary, of plotting a Protestant throne, and although he had been freed the following year, another Catholic queen might well feel more secure if his head lay on the chopping block.
Aside from the issue of war with Spain, Walsingham was constantly engaged in uncovering not only a plot to do away with Elizabeth and crown Mary Queen of England, but to uncover one in which the Scots bitch was clearly implicated herself. Only such blatant and clearly proven treason would drive Elizabeth to order her cousin's execution.
Only with her execution would the Protestant line be safe.
Even without a violent overthrow, there was the problem of succession. Elizabeth appeared healthy enough, but she would soon be past the child-bearing age, and showed no more inclination to marry, at any rate, than she ever had. Should she die before naming a successor, a thing she had so far refused to do, Mary would have a strong, legal claim on the throne.
Finch stood up and strolled across the lawn. He knew that it was a bit early to expect Sir David, but he wanted to get on with their plans. Only at court could he further his own ambitions. His estate here was comfortable, but by no means the sort of living he had in mind. Stories brought back by Raleigh, rapidly becoming the new court favorite, about his expeditions to the West Indies with his cousin, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, wetted many appetites. The tales of gold, silver, emeralds, slaves, to be had for the taking made Robert much discontented with his holdings here in the English countryside.
True, the privateers were doing well enough out of the looting of Caribbean shipping, but it was a mere pittance compared to the vast wealth in the ports and towns. At any rate, the life of a semi-pirate was not what Robert had in mind. A government post in an already captured colony was more to his liking. It was not that Finch was a coward. He was not. He had fought bravely and well with the Huguenots in France against Spain in 1569. Another reason for his hatred of the Spanish.
No, he was no coward, but he was no hot headed fool, either. Years had turned the fury of his youth to caution and he knew that much more was gained by planning than by rushing in headlong at the forefront of battle. He valued his life just as he did his comfort.
He stopped his stroll by a low hedge at the rear of the house and stood deep in thought.
A light, gay voice rose up to him and he realized that his niece was on the other side of the hedge.
He smiled and peeked over the top, taking care not to be seen.
Belinda was playing with her dog, a huge but friendly mastiff. He lay on his back while she tickled his stomach and chattered to him. She must have been tickling more than his stomach for the scarlet tip of his cock had pushed out of the protective sheath and jutted up at her.
Belinda spotted this change in his anatomy and her hand moved downward.
“Oh, what's this?” she laughed. She took hold of the red nob with her fingers and pushed the sheath further down the shaft. The dog wriggled under her hand.
“You like that, do you?” Belinda felt her thighs grow moist and a warm tingle start in the bottom of her belly. She knew that this was the part a man would one day stick into her and it excited her to fondle it even if it were only the cock of an animal. She moved her fingers back and forth and the cock pushed completely out of the sheath, swollen and hard. The dog whimpered and bucked.
“The perverted little bitch,” Robert thought. His own cock was hard and he pressed his hand against it as he watched Belinda teasing the dog. “If there were time, I'd fuck her right now. A hell of a thing when a beauty like that wastes her talent on a dog.” As he watched he thought how those light fingers would feel sliding up and down his own organ and clutched himself.
Unaware that she was being watched, Belinda continued her game. She bent her dark head lower to get a better look at the now jerking, thrusting penis and on a sudden whim stuck out her pointed tongue and licked the head.
Robert almost ejaculated in his pants and the dog thrust even harder as the cool tongue licked at his nob.
Suddenly Belinda jumped up, laughing.
“That's enough. I can't spend all day on your silly thing.” It would be much more fun to do that to a real man, but even with the dog it had excited her. Now she wanted to get away by herself where she could fondle in private the itch between her legs.
As she stood up, the dog rolled over and stood beside her. Thoroughly aroused, his bright red cock thrust out beneath him almost touching the grass. He jumped up on her almost knocking her over and wound his front legs around her, thrusting against the silky material of her dress.
With difficulty she pushed him away and started running toward a nearby summer house. The animal followed, tried to mount her again, but was pushed away and left to stand in frustration as the door of the summer house slammed behind his tormentor.
A moment later, Belinda's face appeared at the window, laughing.
“Can't catch me, Rex. Go take your big thing somewhere else.”
She disappeared, thinking that it might have been nice to let him do it to her. The only problem was that she didn't really know how one went about it and if she was going to let Rex put that pretty red thing inside her, she'd probably have to help. No, she'd just have to wait for a real man. She wriggled at the thought and slipped her hand up under her skirt.
Robert, who had witnessed the whole performance, was sorely tempted to go into the summer house after her.
“The little prick-teaser. God, I have a fellow feeling with that poor hound. She's left me in no better condition than he is. She'll pay for it, though.” He watched as the dog crossed the lawn, rubbing his burning organ on the cool grass. “After I've had her, maybe we'll give her to you, eh, Rex? God knows, you've earned her.” He thought of the great, shaggy dog mounting his pretty young niece, and vowed that he would have her that very night. His balls pressed so tight against his body that he feared they'd go right up into his stomach. God, how they ached! He'd have to pay her out thoroughly for the torture she was putting him to.
He heard a servant call and turned quickly. A carriage had pulled up in front of the house and he could see Sir David alighting.
For the moment thoughts of Belinda would have to be replaced with other matters.
Pulling his jacket well forward in an attempt to conceal the erection that still bulged out his pant leg, he strode across the lawn to receive his guest.
“So that's about how things stand at present.”
Sir David held out his glass as Robert refilled it.
“There may be more news when I get back to court, but either way, Walsingham needs all the competent, loyal men he can get.” He took a sip from his glass and set it on the table. “I'll be returning within the week, and if you are prepared to accompany me, I think it an excellent idea.” He leaned forward. “You're just the sort of man we need. Nobody knows you too well and you might be able to infiltrate the Catholic lines.” Robert answered eagerly.