“You cannot know until the bairn is born,” Rosamund warned her. “Lassies can appear large, too.”
Jean shook her head. “Nay, this is a lad, for Logan wants a lad. I cannot disappoint him.”
“I am sure there is nothing you could do that would disappoint him,” Rosamund replied. She turned to her lover. “My lord, are we ready to depart?”
“Where are Annie and Dermid?” he queried.
“We’re ready, my lord,” Dermid said. Annie, looking slightly sleepy, was by his side. “Horses are in the courtyard, and everyone’s been fed. My thanks, lady.” He bowed neatly to Jean and then turned to depart the hall with his wife.
“Please let us know when you are safely delivered,” Rosamund told her hostess. “I will have Father Mata pray for you, Jean Hepburn. Tell Logan I am sorry we did not see him before we left. He seemed unwell last night. I hope whatever was bothering him has now left him. Say I asked after him.” She smiled and slipped a hand into the earl’s big one.
“I will.” Jean smiled. “Travel in safety, Lady Rosamund.”
When they were out again in the courtyard of Claven’s Carn and mounted, Patrick leaned over, speaking so only Rosamund might hear him. “You have sharp claws, madame,” he said. “I take it his offense last night was suitably unforgivable that you would torture him so cruelly.”
“He once again declared his love for me,” Rosamund muttered angrily.
The Earl of Glenkirk nodded. “That was indeed unforgivable,” he agreed, “and particularly so as that trusting little wife of his is big with his heir.”
They rode from Claven’s Carn, down the hill, and onto the track that led over the hills into England.
“It bothers me that Jean Hepburn should ever be harmed by believing that her husband is not true to her. She is striving so hard to be a good wife to him.”
“Do you think she loves him?” the earl wondered.
“I know not,” Rosamund answered, shaking her head. “But he owes her his loyalty, and to tell me within the walls of his own house, with his wife in the hall below, that he still loves me-I wish I had slapped him. I was astounded by his words, Patrick! He is what I always believed him to be. A rude and crude borderer.”
“I feel sorry for him,” the earl said, surprising her.
“Why on earth would you feel sorry for him?” Rosamund demanded, her tone aggrieved.
“I feel sorry for him because he truly does love you, Rosamund,” the earl said quietly. “I know you always believed he courted you because he needed, and wanted, an heir. That may be true in part, but the man is also deeply in love with you. The sight of us together last night tortured him. When he returned to the hall he said practically nothing, but he drank himself into a stupor. His brothers had to carry him to bed.”
“I am sorry for that,” Rosamund replied. “But, Patrick, I never said I would wed him. I said no. I always said no. I feel sorry for him, too, but I will not be put in the same position with sweet Jean Hepburn as I was with my own queen. I am not comfortable with guilt, my lord, particularly when those who are responsible for these situations feel no guilt at all. Logan feels sorry for himself. He does not think of his wife. But I do. Henry Tudor felt deprived when I returned to Friarsgate. He did not consider the hurt he would do the queen if she had learned a trusted friend had been in her husband’s bed. But I did.”
“It is unlikely that you will see him again for some time, if ever,” the earl responded. “The very sight of you is painful. I believe he respects his wife, even if he does not love her. And there is his pride to consider, as well.”
“Aye, Logan is a proud man,” Rosamund noted.
They rode for several hours, and suddenly the landscape about them began to grow familiar. She knew the hills about them. Rosamund leaned forward eagerly.
“You sense Friarsgate,” he said to her.
She nodded excitedly. “I do!” she said. “Just one more hill, Patrick, and we will see my lake and my fields. Oh God! I cannot believe I stayed away so long! Yet I should not have been anywhere else but with you, my darling. You love your Glenkirk every bit as much as I love Friarsgate. I look forward to seeing it one day.”
“And you will,” he promised her.
They followed the faint track of the road down the hill and then began to climb up the next. At its crest it was as she had said, and she stopped to take it all in. Below them lay Friarsgate, its meadows green in the late spring sun. There were sheep and cattle grazing placidly. The fields were golden with grain, and the orchards, as they rode down the hill and past them, were full of blossoms. The lake beyond the stone house sparkled in the afternoon light. The bell in the church began to peal, and the people came from their work and cottages, running to greet their returning mistress and her party. They reached the house, and Maybel came out, smiling broadly, with Rosamund’s daughters in tow.
The lady of Friarsgate jumped down from her horse and, kneeling, gathered her children into her arms. “Oh, my darling girls!” she cried, covering them with kisses. Bessie, the baby, now four, squirmed protesting, but Banon and Philippa were openly glad to see their mother again.
“I did not expect you to be gone from us so long, mama,” Philippa, age eight, said. “Uncle Thomas is a fine companion, but we missed you.” Her gaze turned to the Earl of Glenkirk, and she quirked an auburn eyebrow.
Rosamund stood. “Philippa, may I present you and your sisters to Patrick Leslie, the Earl of Glenkirk.” She looked sharply at her daughters, and they curtsied politely. “The earl will be visiting with us for a time,” Rosamund said.
“Do you have a castle, my lord?” Philippa asked boldly.
“I do,” he answered her, smiling down on this smaller version of his love. “One day I hope your mother will come and bring you to see it.”
“Well, and ’tis past time you got home!” Maybel said sternly. “Although from the look of this fine gentleman I can see why you remained in Edinburgh so long. Come into the house now.” Then she stared hard at Annie. “What’s this? What’s this? Do you return home with shame in your belly?”
“I be a respectably married woman,” Annie said, and she pulled Dermid forward. “Yon Scot is my man, Maybel. Mistress has promised us a cot eventually.”
“You’ll have to earn it, girl,” Maybel said sharply. “And just where was you wed, my lass?”
Annie looked to her mistress, and when Rosamund nodded, she said, “In a great cathedral, and by a bishop his-self, Maybel! There isn’t a lass at Friarsgate who ever had a finer wedding, I’ll vow.”
Maybel looked astounded, but Rosamund spoke up, saying, “We have a wonderful tale to tell you. But not here. We have been riding most of the day, and we need food and wine, and most of all, a hot bath! It has been weeks since either of us has had a decent bath. Edmund!” She greeted the gentleman who had just come from the house. “Patrick, this is my uncle, Edmund Bolton. Uncle, Patrick Leslie, the Earl of Glenkirk.” She led them all into the house now.
The hall was pleasantly cool, and looking about it, Rosamund sighed with pleasure. She had enjoyed her adventures in San Lorenzo and Edinburgh, but by God’s blessed body it was good to be home at last. She settled herself immediately in her favorite chair by the hearth. She saw a fire already laid for the evening and smiled. She could hear the servants bringing in the luggage, and Annie, full of self-importance, directing them as to where it would go. A little maidservant with whom she was not familiar brought a tray with wine and sugar wafers.
“Who are you, child?” Rosamund asked.
“I be Lucy, m’lady. Annie’s sister,” the girl chirped with a small smile.
“Thank you, Lucy,” Rosamund said, and then she turned to the earl. “Shall I begin our tale?”
He nodded. “It is over and done with now, and I doubt it will travel from Cumbria to the ears of King Henry,” he answered her with a smile. Bending down, he lifted Bessie, who was hanging on his leg, up into his lap. The little girl snuggled down in his arms contentedly. For a moment, the Earl of Glenkirk’s face grew sad, but then he sighed and smiled at the child.
“You are thinking of your daughter,” Rosamund said softly.
“Aye,” he admitted. “She was just about this age and size when her brother was born and she came to Glenkirk Castle to live. But tell your tale, Rosamund.”
Rosamund looked about her. Maybel and Edmund were leaning forward. Philippa and Banon had expectant looks upon their faces. Rosamund began. She explained how she had met the earl almost as soon as she had arrived in Edinburgh and how they had fallen in love at first sight. She told them briefly of Patrick’s previous sojourn in San Lorenzo, of how his beloved daughter was taken by slavers and sold into bondage, never to be seen again. She then went on to tell them that King James had called the earl from Glenkirk and asked him to act secretly for
