“So,” Maybel pounced, “you have feelings for the laird!”
“He still irritates me, if that is what you mean,” Rosamund said shortly, “but not so much tonight, perhaps. He was thoughtful and careful in his speech with me. I could not fault him at all.”
“Mayhap he has changed,” Maybel suggested.
“Men rarely change after a certain age,” Rosamund said dryly.
“But that young wife of his, God assoil her soul,” Maybel said, crossing herself, “may have taught him better. He did not love her, but it is said he liked her well enough.”
“You are getting as bad as Tom with all your gossip,” Rosamund laughed, teasing her old companion.
“I cannot believe that you are going away again,” Maybel replied. “You never relished all this traveling about before. Now suddenly you are home but a short time and then you are off again. I like it not!”
“I should have been perfectly content to spend the rest of my life at Friarsgate, Maybel. I have had more than enough of adventuring, but I cannot ignore a royal summons, can I?”
“But why has Queen Katherine summoned you? The friendship between you is nowhere near that of your friendship with Queen Margaret,” Maybel noted. “Queen Katherine does not need you as she once did when you were girls.”
“The summons may have the queen’s signature, but it comes from the king, I am most certain,” Rosamund said. “The English ambassador in San Lorenzo thought he recognized me. We had never met, but he had indeed seen me at court when I last visited. Tom tells me he has returned to England. He probably remembered who I was and told the king. Henry Tudor would have certainly been curious as to what I was doing in San Lorenzo last winter with a Scottish lord. His curiosity is such that he will not be satisfied until he knows the answer to that question.”
“But he is a mighty king,” Maybel said. “All of Europe is at his feet right now. He has won great victories in France and broken Scotland’s spirit at Flodden. Why should he care about the answer to such a question, Rosamund?”
“Because we were once friends, Maybel. He will want to assure himself that I have not betrayed him in any way. Everything like that matters to him. The smallest detail or fact consumes him. It is his way.”
“Will you tell him of the Earl of Glenkirk?” she asked.
“I have no choice, for Lord Howard will have certainly told him,” Rosamund answered her.
“Could you not send him a message explaining?” Maybel queried.
Rosamund laughed. “I wish I could,” she said. “But the king will want to look into my face, into my eyes, as I relate my tale. It is the only way he can be certain that I am still loyal to him. Henry Tudor is a jealous man, Maybel.”
“It seems to me,” Maybel muttered, “that he has changed little from that boy who attempted to seduce you beneath his own grandmother’s nose.”
“Oh, he has indeed changed, Maybel. Power and wealth have brought about that change. He wields both mightily, even if beneath the surface he is still that bad boy,” Rosamund said quietly.
Maybel sighed. “I don’t like your going,” she said.
“Nor do I, but to disobey a royal summons would bring dire consequences upon Friarsgate, and I have spent my entire life watching over my lands. I do not want to be forced into another arranged marriage with one of the king’s men; nor do I want Philippa endangered. I will go. Besides, Tom will be with me, and you know how much he can amuse the king and queen. I will be all right.”
In the morning the laird of Claven’s Carn prepared to take Rosamund’s daughters with him over the border into Scotland. They met unexpectedly in the Great Hall before the others had assembled. She had just come from the mass.
“I am glad we are alone,” he said. “I wanted to assure you that I will guard the lasses as if they were my own, Rosamund.”
“I know you will,” she said. Her insides were melting at the sight of those blue-blue eyes as he looked at her.
“When will you return?” he asked softly.
“I do not know,” she responded honestly. “I do not really enjoy King Henry’s court, but I cannot refuse my own queen’s call. I suspect the king has learned of my sojourn in San Lorenzo and wants an explanation. Henry Tudor is a suspicious man, always seeing demons where there are none to be found.”
Logan nodded, understanding. Then he said, “Rosamund, I do not always speak with delicacy, but might I humbly request that you contract no alliances while you are away. I should like, nay, I should enjoy, the opportunity to become your friend when you return.”
“My friend?” She looked at him askance.
He flushed, realizing what he had said might easily be misconstrued. “Your friend,” he repeated. “And perhaps a friendship between us could lead to a…” he hesitated, afraid to say the word lest he frighten her off for good.
“You wish to court me with an eye towards marriage?” she asked frankly.
“Aye!” And his look was one of such relief that she laughed.
“Then I will contract no unions while I am away, Logan, but other than that I make you no promises. Do you understand me? I am still not certain that I will marry again.” The smile she gave him was tremulous and brief.
He wanted to say that she had shown no hesitation with Lord Leslie, but he did not. He remembered seeing them together at Stirling. He had never in his life beheld such raw and unbounded love as they had exhibited for each other. He had never imagined love like that existed. But even if she never loved him like that, he knew he wanted her as he had always wanted her. He would accept what she had to give, if indeed there was anything left in her heart. “I understand,” he told her. “I ask nothing, and you render me no promise. We shall begin anew, and perhaps something good may come of it, Rosamund.”
The hall began to be peopled now with servants, and the children came, eager and excited, running to Logan and bidding him a good morning. Rosamund was touched by the sight of it. Her daughters obviously liked the Scotsman, and that was to the good.
“My lord! My lord!” Bessie was tugging at his sleeve. She was the daughter most like Owein Meredith with her soft blond hair and gray-blue eyes.
“Yes, Bessie,” he asked her, “what is it, lass?”
“May I take my puppy with me, my lord? The terrier that Uncle Tom gave me for my natal day celebration?” She was holding a small black and tan pup in her arms.
Logan leaned down, saying as he did, “He doesn’t look very big, Bessie. I suspect he won’t take up a great deal of room, and he would be very lonely without you. Aye, we must take him. Does he have a name yet?” His big hand stroked the pup’s head, and the puppy’s tongue licked at his fingers.
“He is Tam for my Uncle Tom,” Bessie answered.
“We’ll put him in a small basket, lass, and you will carry him yourself on your pony,” the laird told her with a smile.
“He is a very kind man, mama,” Philippa murmured, coming to her mother’s side. “I do believe Banon and Bessie will have a fine time with him.”
“Yes,” her mother said. Nothing more. She was suddenly seeing Logan in a new light. Perhaps Jeannie, God assoil her soul, had indeed civilized him.
After the morning meal they prepared for the laird’s departure. In the courtyard, the girls already mounted upon their ponies, Logan said to Rosamund, “I will return tomorrow with the men I intend to watch over Friarsgate, as well as those I choose to escort you south.”
“I would leave tomorrow, but I will travel only as far as my uncle’s monastery.”
“ ’Tis a good plan. Young Mistress Philippa should not be tired her first day on the road,” he answered.
She nodded in agreement and, looking about, said, “I see no one upon the hills spying on us yet.”
“Nay. I sent my men early to see what was happening, and as we suspected, your cousin hasn’t gotten himself together yet. I think we may both make our getaways before he is aware you and your daughters are gone,” Logan said. “I thank you for your hospitality, Rosamund Bolton.” Then he mounted his stallion and moved to the front of
