Until You

man and Rosamund for the past two days.

“What I am about to tell you, Logan Hepburn, must go no farther. I tell you this on the king’s order. Do you understand?”

The laird nodded, now intrigued. “I understand, my lord, and you have my word that whatever you tell me I will not repeat.”

“The queen,” the earl began, “enjoys a good jest. She found it amusing, not aware of why we were really departing the court, to put us together in our travels. She believes that Rosamund’s daughter is ill, and Rosamund is going to her. She believes I am accompanying Rosamund. She is fully aware of the relationship you desired to forge with the lady of Friarsgate and thinks it humorous that you and your bride travel with us. But Rosamund’s daughter is not ill, and we are not going to Friarsgate. The king has delegated me to undertake a secret diplomatic mission for him. As you are aware, I have not been to court or out of my Highlands for eighteen years. Consequently, no one would even consider that the king would appoint me to such a duty. Nor is anyone other than the king aware of what I am to do or where I am going. I cannot even tell you, Logan Hepburn. I told the king I would do his bidding if Rosamund could come with me.”

“What if she hadn’t wanted to go?” the laird demanded. He was, in spite of it all, jealous of this man who had somehow stolen Rosamund from him. “Rosamund loves Friarsgate and dislikes being away from it for very long.”

“Nonetheless she agreed to go with me,” the Earl of Glenkirk said quietly.

“How can you love each other so on such short acquaintance?” Logan burst out, unable to help himself from the question.

“I do not know,” the earl admitted honestly. “All I can tell you is that until Rosamund I had just existed, and I never even knew it. From the moment our eyes met we have desired nothing more than to be together.”

“She will never desert Friarsgate,” Logan said.

“Nor will I desert Glenkirk. But until the time comes when we must return to our duties, however long a time that is, we shall be together.”

“Do you love her?” he asked, his look tortured.

“I have always loved her,” came the strange reply.

“She loves you,” Logan said, almost bitterly.

“Aye, she does,” Patrick said simply.

“That you are leaving us here says you are going to Leith,” the laird of Claven’s Carn said.

“We sail tonight,” was the reply.

“Rosamund was never a girl for adventure,” Logan remarked. “She has changed so suddenly that I cannot believe she is the same girl. Have you bewitched her, my lord?”

The Earl of Glenkirk laughed. “Nay,” he said, “although we both considered such a thing that first night. She has told me she isn’t adventurous, and yet she is willing to come across a sea with me. Such is the power of our love. But it is not witchcraft, Logan Hepburn. Now, Tom Bolton will travel with you as far as Claven’s Carn, and Rosamund would appreciate it if your clansmen would escort him over the border back to Friarsgate. He holds her authority so that her uncle Henry cannot interfere should he learn she isn’t there. She fears for her lasses. Will you do that for her?”

“There is nothing she could ask me that I would not do,” Logan said.

“Laddie, laddie,” the earl replied, shaking his head at the younger man, “Bothwell gave you a sweet wife. Be true to her, and put my fair Rosamund from your thoughts. She would not have wed you even if we had not met. She is not ready to remarry, and I know she tried to explain that to you, but you would not hear what she had to say. You wanted a wife upon whom to get your heirs. You have one. Take her back to Claven’s Carn and put a bairn in her belly. Rosamund and I will be far away from Scotland.”

“And when you return, my lord?” the laird asked.

“I do not know. But when we do return I hope we shall hear that you have a healthy son, Logan Hepburn.” He held out his hand. “Now, shake my hand, for I already have your word that you will not divulge what we have discussed. Then bid us Godspeed. If I can accomplish what the king desires, we may prevent a war.”

The laird of Claven’s Carn took the Earl of Glenkirk’s big, gloved hand and shook it. “Then I do bid you Godspeed, my lord, and reassure you again that my lips are sealed in your secret matter. Tell Rosamund that I will see Tom Bolton is brought safe and sound back to Friarsgate.” Then he turned his mount and rejoined his wife and the clansmen who were accompanying them.

Rosamund and Tom moved forward. The Englishman took his cousin’s hand in his. “Be careful, dearest girl, and come home safe to us when you can,” he said.

“You have the letter for Maybel and Edmund?” she asked him for the third time.

“I do,” he said, and he kissed her hand. “Godspeed, cousin,” Tom told her, and then he rejoined the laird’s party as they moved off down the road to Edinburgh.

“You are certain?” Patrick asked Rosamund.

She nodded. “I am.” Then she turned to Annie. “ ’Tis now or never, lassie.”

“I’m coming!” Annie said firmly. “ ’Twill be something to tell my grandchildren one day,” she finished with a grin.

“Then, let us go,” the earl said, and he signaled to his manservant, Dermid More.

The little party of four, each mounted, turned onto the Leith road and headed for the port. The day remained very cold, but bright. They reached Leith in the late afternoon as the sun was setting behind them, making their way to the Mermaid Inn on the waterfront.

It was a large and prosperous establishment, and its courtyard was bustling busily. Dermid dismounted first and went into the inn. He returned a few moments later.

“Captain Daumier is awaiting us in a private room, my lord,” he reported.

“We’ll go in, then. You know the way, Dermid?” the earl asked, sliding off his horse and then helping Rosamund from hers.

Dermid nodded, then aided Annie to dismount.

“My bottom is fair sore,” Annie said with a sigh. She followed her mistress and the earl into the inn as Dermid led the way. It was a back route, and they neatly avoided the public rooms by taking it. At the end of a narrow hallway was a door, and Dermid knocked upon it, then opened the portal to usher his master and their party inside.

A portly gentleman arose from a chair by the fire and came forward. “Lord Leslie?” he asked.

“I am Patrick Leslie,” the earl replied.

The gentleman nodded. “Jean-Paul Daumier, captain of La Petite Reine,” he said.

“I was told we are to sail tonight, captain. Is everything on schedule?” Patrick Leslie queried.

“But, of course, my lord!” came the firm answer. “The weather is fair, and will remain that way for a few more days, thanks to le bon Dieu. We have good northwest winds, and your passage should be a swift one. Be advised that I will be hugging the English coast for several days so that if the weather turns we can make port safely. We’ll cross the Strait of Dover to Calais, then sail on to Boulogne, and if the weather is still good I can get you as far as Le Havre, but no farther. The weather will turn sooner than later, and I’ll not cross the Bay of Biscay at this time of year. I’m just a coastal freighter.”

“I understand,” the earl said. “And having made that passage several times, I will certainly agree with you, Captain Daumier. Will we be safe, however, within sight of the English coast?”

“Oui! The English, for all they proclaim the French their enemies, are always happy to see me, my lord. Especially the wine merchants and their rich customers!” Captain Daumier said with a broad smile. “If we should be boarded, I have enough empty barrels aboard to confirm my story, and you are just a gentleman running away from his wife with his amour, eh?” He chuckled.

The Earl of Glenkirk laughed. “Nonetheless, I hope we are not stopped.”

“It is unlikely,” the captain told him. “These English are not good sailors. But their king, I am told, seeks to build a great navy, so maybe one day they will be. For now they fish near the shore and run for land at the slightest blow. We will be safe.”

The earl nodded. “When do we sail?” he asked.

“You have time for a good supper, my lord, but then you should come aboard. I will send my cabin boy for you