Until You

you have grown over the years. You do not look greatly changed, but one can never tell.” She took out her tape and began, muttering to herself beneath her breath, making little scratches with her charcoal stick on the tiny piece of parchment she had brought with her. When she had finished, she arose and tucked the notations she had made into the pocket of her skirts. “You are as fine a figure of a man as you ever were,” she chuckled. “I shall be back for a fitting tomorrow, and I shall bring the pale green gown with me when I come, madame. Its bodice will be nicely, but simply, embroidered,” Celestina promised. Then she turned and was quickly gone from the apartment.

“She moves swiftly for a lady of such girth,” Rosamund noted.

He chuckled. “So you are no longer jealous?” he teased her.

“I did not say that, my lord, for her hands were all over you, especially when she measured the length of your legs. I thought she came a bit too close to your manhood, and I thought that you seemed to enjoy it,” Rosamund said with a small smile.

“Celestina always had the most clever hands,” he remarked, and then, pulling her into his arms, he kissed her soundly. “But you, my darling, seem to be clever all over, and I adore you for it.”

“Is there anything that we need to do now, my lord?” Rosamund asked him.

“See that Dermid and Annie have supper on the sideboard when we want it and then disappear so we may be wanton together without fear of being disturbed?”

“Are you suggesting, my lord, that we go back to bed?” she asked him innocently.

“Aye, lass, I am,” he replied, a slow smile lighting his eyes. “We have several weeks of loving to make up for, Rosamund, and I am ready to begin.”

She smiled back at him. “Then I shall not need this caftan for a while,” she said. “Shall I, my lord?”

“Nay, sweetheart. You will not need it for some time to come,” he agreed, and taking her hand in his, he led her back into her bedchamber.

Chapter 6

Sebastian, Duke of San Lorenzo, was a man now closer to sixty than he was to fifty. He was still what would be considered a fine figure of a man, if perhaps a bit portly. His once black hair was now steely gray, but his black eyes were as sharp as they had ever been. He pinned his gaze upon the man he had never again thought to see. They had not parted amicably. How could they have? The Earl of Glenkirk’s daughter was to have married his heir, Rudolpho. But then the girl was stolen by slavers. Even if they had gotten her back, and the Blessed Mother knew he had attempted to retrieve Janet Leslie, there could no longer have been a question of her marriage to his son. She would certainly have been despoiled. His negotiations with Toulouse for one of their princesses had been, he thought, secret. But Patrick had known immediately, even before it was confirmed his daughter was lost forever, that her match with Rudolpho di San Lorenzo was no longer a possibility and that the formal betrothal celebrated just a brief few weeks before was annulled and San Lorenzo’s duke was seeking another bride for his son. The duke and the Scots ambassador’s previously cordial relationship had soured badly. They had parted formally, neither expecting to ever see the other again.

“While I am certainly astounded to see you, Patrick,” the duke said, “I welcome you back to San Lorenzo. I can see the years have not been unkind to you.”

“I thank you, my lord duke,” the earl replied.

“Patrick, my old friend,” the duke said jovially. “Surely we may still be friends? Has time not softened the memories?”

“Perhaps yours, Sebastian, but not mine,” Patrick responded, but his tone was mild. “Still, here I am in San Lorenzo again.”

“And returned with a beautiful lady, I am informed,” the duke chuckled. “You were ever a man for the fairer sex, my friend. But why are you here?”

“The lady and I wished to escape the harsh northern winter and the curiosity of King James’ court,” the earl said.

“Nay, I do not believe that. I have a letter from your king asking me to extend to you every courtesy,” the duke answered. “If you were just an ordinary man with his lover, I might accept your explanation, but you are not, Patrick Leslie,” the duke said.

“The less you know of the purpose of my visit, Sebastian, the better for you and for San Lorenzo,” the earl answered him. “I am here to meet with some people, but it is better that our concourse remain most private.”

“So your king has suggested, but he has also said that if I am not content with that explanation you will give me a better one.”

Patrick sighed. He did not trust Sebastian di San Lorenzo. Not after what had happened. Still, he had no choice in the matter. To gain the duke’s cooperation and goodwill he must tell him the truth. “You know of the Holy League?” he asked.

The duke nodded. “Papal politics in God’s name once more,” he said dryly.

The Earl of Glenkirk found himself smiling. He might not trust the Duke of San Lorenzo, but Sebastian had never been a stupid man. “Aye, but it has put my king in a very difficult position.”

“Why? James Stewart has always been a favorite of this pope. I believe that Julius even presented him with the Golden Rose for his devotion and piety to Holy Mother Church,” the duke countered.

“All that is true,” Patrick agreed. “But Scotland is married to England’s sister. This match was conceived by King Henry the seventh in order to foster peace between Scotland and England. It has done just that, with only minor border skirmishes over the years. Queen Margaret is devoted to her husband and loyal to Scotland. Now, however, her brother sits on England’s throne. He is young, ambitious, envious, and filled with a great sense of his own importance and destiny.

“King James is a man of peace. He has brought much prosperity to Scotland. Prosperity that comes through an absence of war or strife. It has made him a distinguished figure among the other rulers of Europe. And Henry Tudor is very jealous of him. He seeks to destroy what he perceives as Scotland’s influence, for England, he believes, is more important. It is not meet in his eyes that Scotland take precedence over him. And he is ruthlessly clever, Sebastian. Make no mistake about it. He will have his way in this. The first step in his plan was to encourage the pope, who has previously had good relations with King Louis, to demand that the French give up their possessions north of the Italian states. You will recall that previously the pope was allied with the French in a campaign against the Venetians in the north of Italy.”

“The same Venetians who are now members of the Holy League,” the duke murmured. “Ah, the vagaries of mankind.”

“And, of course, pious Spain is a part of the league, along with Maximilian and his Holy Roman Empire,” the earl said.

“But conspicuously absent is Scotland,” the duke noted.

“Aye. Scotland has an alliance with France. It is an auld alliance going back many years. My king is a man of honor, and he can find no reason to break that alliance. So he will not. Henry Tudor is not a man of honor. He has engineered this situation in order to harm my king’s good relations with Pope Julius and the Holy See.”

“Would your king send troops to France’s aid?” the duke asked Patrick.

“Only if absolutely forced into it, if there were no way in which he could eschew it. You know how well a ruler may avoid a situation like this when acting in the best interests of his country, Sebastian.”

“So in actuality Scotland would remain neutral,” the duke noted.

“Aye, which under any other circumstance would suit the pope,” the earl said.

“Except that the English king is pressing the point and making an issue of it. Us or them. Aye, Patrick. This Henry Tudor is indeed ruthless and clever. Now, tell me why you have come.”

“King James hopes that perhaps he might weaken the alliance and in doing so take the attention away from what our nation will or won’t do. If the pope must struggle to maintain the allies that he already has, he is unlikely to be overly concerned with Scotland’s position as long as it is not overtly hostile towards his league. I am here to meet with two gentlemen. One from Venice and the other from Germany. My king considers them the weaker links. Spain will not be moved because England’s queen is Ferdinand’s daughter.”