Until You

Chapter 10

Three days later they departed Edinburgh for Fri arsgate. Lord Cambridge promised to follow them in a few days’ time, for the queen had asked him to remain at court for a short time.

“I have told her I have absolutely no news of her brother’s court, but she insists I stay for a few weeks. I may go directly south to save time. I want this business with your uncle Henry settled as quickly as possible.”

“You will make a far more congenial neighbor than he,” Rosamund said.

“Pity him, cousin,” came the reply. “His fall is quite sad, and he is a broken man. His wife destroyed him. He can be certain only that young Henry is his get, yet all Mavis’ bastards bear the name of Bolton. Though her adultery was an open secret, your uncle was too proud to publicly expose her. Still”-and this was said cheerfully-“as I have previously said, those lads will all end their days on the hang-man’s rope.”

“You find gossip where there should be none,” Rosamund laughed. “Write to me, and let me know when you intend to return to us. You will have to stay at Friarsgate while Otterly is made fit for human habitation again.”

“I intend to tear the place down and build a new house,” Tom said.

“And will its interior match your houses in London and Greenwich, cousin?” Rosamund asked him, knowing as she spoke what he would say.

“Of course,” Lord Cambridge answered her predictably. “You know, dear girl, how I despise change. And this way the servants can come north with me, as they come to Greenwich, and not be idle. I have been keeping them in London all these months while they do naught. Shocking!”

“Tom, I adore you!” Rosamund said, and she kissed him on both cheeks.

“I am relieved to know I have not been replaced entirely in your heart, dear girl,” he said, returning her kiss. “Travel safely, and I will indeed write to you.”

“I want to know all your adventures,” she said, laughing.

“My adventures pale in comparison to yours, dear girl. And to think when I first met you, you were such a quiet little country mouse,” he replied. Then, with a wave of his hand, he left her.

“He loves you very much,” the earl noted.

“I love him back,” Rosamund said. “He is like a big brother, and he has been wonderful to me from the moment we met.”

Edinburgh behind them, they moved south and west through the borders, traveling only in the daylight hours, for even in the best of times the borderland between England and Scotland could be a rough place. They forded the Yarrow River at Yarrow and the Teviot at Hawick below Jedburgh. They followed the path along Liddel Water through the Cheviots. Rosamund was anxious to get past Claven’s Carn, but as luck would have it, the summer twilight found them right where she did not want to be.

“I’d rather camp in a field with the cattle,” she said to Glenkirk.

“I would not,” he told her. “He’s a married man now.”

“You will see, Patrick. And I would not harm that sweet wife of his for the world, but you will see. He will glower at me and make cruel remarks. She is not stupid, and she will wonder what it is all about. And his roughneck brothers and their wives will tell her I am flirting with him to take the onus off of him.”

“Is there anywhere else we might stop?” he asked her.

“No,” she admitted glumly.

“Then we have no choice but to stop at Claven’s Carn.”

“I shall say I am weary and must go to my bed immediately,” Rosamund decided.

“Aye,” Glenkirk agreed, “that would be best. Slump in your saddle and feign great exhaustion, sweetheart. I will speak for our party. And we have Annie and her belly, too.” He chuckled. “ ’Tis a sad group we are.”

The earl had hired a group of men-at-arms in Edinburgh to accompany them to Friarsgate. Now, Rosamund, Annie, and the others behind him, he hailed the closed gates at Claven’s Carn. “Ho, the castle!” he shouted.

“Who goes there?” a voice from the heights demanded.

“Patrick Leslie, Earl of Glenkirk, the lady of Friarsgate, two servants, and twenty men-at-arms. We request shelter for the night. The lady and the servant girl who is with child are wearied and can travel no farther. We ask the hospitality of Logan Hepburn and his wife.”

“Remain there while I seek my master,” the voice from the darkened heights said.

They waited and they waited. The minutes passed while the wind began to come up, and there was the smell of rain in the air.

“He would refuse,” Rosamund said, “but his wife prevails upon him to remember that courtesy must be rendered to a traveler who asks it.”

“You seem to know him well,” Glenkirk said dryly.

“He is not a complex man,” Rosamund replied sharply. Then she laughed softly. “He will have to give in to Jeannie’s pleas or seem quite mean-spirited. If he had not this young wife, he would refuse us. As it is, he will make us wait outside his gates like beggars, wondering. He knows we would not ask shelter of him had we any other choice.”

“Tomorrow you shall be home,” Glenkirk soothed her.

A light rain began to fall, yet they still waited. Finally, they heard the creak of the portcullis as it was slowly raised, and the double wooden entrance doors began to slowly open, but just enough to allow them entry, one by one, into the courtyard. There they found the master of the house awaiting them with his pretty wife, who was very great with child. Patrick dismounted and then lifted Rosamund down from her horse. She slumped against him as if she were barely able to stand.

“I appreciate your hospitality, Logan Hepburn, and yours also, my lady Jean,” the earl said in gracious tones. “Is there somewhere my lady might lay her head, for she is spent with all our travels? We were too eager, I fear, to reach Friarsgate today, and the darkness caught us.” He smiled.

“Oh, the poor lady!” Jeannie said sympathetically. Her blue eyes went past Rosamund to Annie. “Come lass, you and your mistress,” she said. “I will see you are bedded down. Have you eaten?” She bustled about them clucking.

“I fear I must carry the lady,” the earl said, as Rosamund began to crumble to the ground by his side. He caught her up, murmuring as he did so, “Vixen! If there are stairs, you will have to carry me.”

Rosamund swallowed back her laughter, pushing her face into his big shoulder to muffle the sound of it. But her amusement was cut short when Logan spoke.

“Give her to me, my lord, for there are stairs, and the lady has not a child’s weight.” He took Rosamund from the earl and strode purposefully into his house with Annie and the others following in his wake.

“He is so thoughtful,” Jeannie said, taking the earl’s arm to bring him inside. “He will put her in the guest chamber. Follow after him, lassie,” she told Annie.

Logan took the stairs to the second floor of his house two at a time. He stamped down a dim hallway, kicked open a door, and entered a chamber. Dumping her on the bed, he snarled, “Did you have to come here, lady? Did you have to torture me once more with your perfidy?”

“I would have sooner bedded in hell this night,” Rosamund snapped back at him.

“So,” he said, “you are not as weary as you pretended to be. Is there no end to your duplicitous nature?”

“Do not speak to me that way, my lord,” she told him. “I simply wished to avoid the scene now ensuing between us. You have a good wife, and I actually like the lass. I would not have her learn of your deceitful nature, especially as you seem to have gotten her so quickly with child. When is the bairn due?”

“It should be our child, Rosamund,” he said softly. “I love you, and I always have. They forced me into this marriage because you fell so publicly into bed with Lord Leslie. This child should be ours!”

“Villain!” she cried. “Get out! Get out! Oh, I pray the Holy Mother that your wife never learns how cruel you really are.”

“I am never unkind to Jeannie,” he quickly responded. “She is as much a victim as I am, though she knows it not. She is like a small helpless kitten. You cannot be cruel to such a creature. You love it, and you protect it.”

“Then why do you speak to me so?” Rosamund demanded of him.

“Because I love you,” he said.

“You wanted an heir, and any woman would do, my lord,” she replied.

“Aye, I want an heir. ’Tis every man’s right. But that was not why I wanted to wed you, Rosamund Bolton. I love you. Why can you not believe it?”

“Get out of my chamber, Logan Hepburn,” Rosamund said. “They will be wondering in the hall where you are. Ah, here is Annie. Come in, lass, and let us prepare for bed now. Good night, my lord.”

“Do you really love him?” the laird of Claven’s Carn asked.

“Aye, I do,” Rosamund answered him. “As I have never loved any other, or will.”

He turned and departed without another word.

“Lady Jeanne says she will send us supper,” Annie said, wide-eyed.

“How much did you hear?” Rosamund inquired of her servant.

“All of it, my lady. I was outside the door, but I feared to come in,” Annie responded.

“You will forget all that you heard,” Rosamund told her.

“Aye, I will,” Annie agreed. “His lordship says to tell you he will sleep in the hall with Dermid.”

Rosamund nodded.

“Lady Jean is very kind,” Annie noted. “She was most solicitous about my condition, her being in the same way but a few months farther along. Her bairn will come in September, she says.”

“She is a sweet girl,” Rosamund agreed. “We must pray she gives him a son, else he not be satisfied.”

“I hopes it’s a lad I carry,” Annie said.

A maidservant came to light a fire to take the chill off the evening. Another servant girl brought a tray with two bowls of lamb stew, bread, cheese, and ale. A third carried in a basin of warm water for bathing and set it on the edge of the coals in the fireplace to keep warm. The lady of the keep knew how to see her guests were made comfortable. Rosamund and Annie ate their supper with a good appetite. They washed their faces and their hands, then stripped off their gowns and climbed into bed. The bed was fresh and smelled of lavender. They slept soundly until the dawn.

Hearing the early birdsong outside the chamber’s window, Rosamund awoke. She slid from her bed and pulled the chamber pot from beneath it, peeing, then emptying the pot out the window afterwards. The day was warm, with a south wind. And there was something in that air that called to her. Home, she thought. A few hours more, and I am home again at Friarsgate. Patrick is with me, and I will have my family about me. She sighed. I am happy, she thought. She pulled her clothes back on and drew her boots onto her feet. A bath! Tonight she would have a real bath for the first time in weeks.

“Annie.” She gently shook her servant by her shoulder. “Wake up, Annie. We will be leaving soon, and we will be home by afternoon.”

Annie groaned, but she dutifully arose.

“I’m going downstairs into the hall, Annie. Do not be far behind me, lass,” her mistress instructed, and Rosamund hurried from the chamber. In the hall she found Patrick up already, and she ran to him and kissed him. “I missed you last night,” she said softly.

“He did not come down right away,” the earl said softly.

“He would quarrel with me. Did I not warn you?” Rosamund replied.

“He got drunk before his brothers put him to bed, but his lady wife appeared not to be disturbed by any of it. She was too busy chattering with me. She is lonely here, I think. Her sisters-in-law are both flighty lasses with little on their minds but ribbons, laces, and bed sport.”

“Let us go as quickly as possible,” Rosamund said. “It is but a few more hours to Friarsgate. I do not wish to have to face Logan Hepburn again.”

“You will tell me later,” Patrick said. “I think we must at least wait for the lady of the house before we go. Come, sweetheart, and eat some porridge. There is a freshly baked cottage loaf, too.” He led her to the high board, and a servant at once placed a large trencher loaf filled with oat stirabout before them. There was honey and heavy golden cream, which Rosamund added liberally to the hot cereal. They ate, and their goblets were filled with wine. A small round cottage loaf had been set before them, and Rosamund tore pieces from it, dipping the bits in honey and feeding them to her lover. He returned the favor, and soon they were laughing as they licked the drizzles of honey from each other’s mouths.

Then Patrick suddenly grew serious. “It is not just that I want you, Rosamund. I find, to my surprise, that I need you.”

She smiled into his green eyes. “I feel the same way, my love,” she told him.

The mistress of the keep entered the hall. “Oh, you are both already up,” she said. “Have you been fed? Did you sleep well?” She hurried up to the high board, smiling.

“We have been treated very well, my lady Jean,” the earl told her.

“You have been a gracious hostess,” Rosamund added. “I am so grateful for the lovely supper you sent me last night. I was so tired. We only arrived home recently. It seems, but for our lovely sojourn, we have been traveling for weeks.”

“I am so glad you broke your journey here,” Jean said. “I did so want to see you again.”

“You are welcome at Friarsgate anytime,” Rosamund told her.

“Oh, once my bairn comes I shall be going nowhere,” Jean said. “And I am certainly in no condition to travel now. One day I shall come and visit you, however, when my bairns, for Logan’s brothers say I must have a houseful, are grown, and not before.” She smiled. “You have daughters, do you not?”

“Three, and a son lost,” Rosamund responded softly.

“Everyone says it is a lad I’m carrying, for I am so big,” Jean said.

“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 him in a certain matter that would require him to go to San Lorenzo after an absence of eighteen years. At this point, the Friarsgate priest, Father Mata, entered the hall and silently took a seat.

“It is good to see you, Father,” Rosamund said. “I am telling the hall of my adventures.”

“What have I missed?” the priest asked, and Rosamund quickly recapped her tale for him before continuing on.

“King James is a man of peace,” she told her listeners, explaining how their own king was attempting to force his brother-in-law into a dishonorable act by betraying old allies or becoming Pope Julius’ enemy.

“He was willful even as lad,” Maybel said, shaking her head. “But go on, lass!”

“King James hoped to weaken the alliance England and the pope were building up against France. By doing that, his refusal to join them would become a moot point. That is why Patrick was sent back secretly to San Lorenzo, to treat with Venice’s and the Emperor Maximilian’s representatives. King James believed this mission was doomed to failure, but he felt he must at least make an attempt to prevent the war that will surely ensue between our countries if King Henry’s mischief is allowed to prevail. Patrick agreed to go as long as I could go with him.”

“You went across the sea, mama?” Philippa asked.

“I did, my daughter. I have seen France and San Lorenzo,” Rosamund told them. “San Lorenzo is so beautiful, and while it was snowy winter here, the winter in San Lorenzo was sunny and warm. There were flowers in bloom, and I swam in the sea.”

“God have mercy!” Maybel exclaimed.

Rosamund laughed. “We lived in a house called a villa that overlooked the sea,” she continued on. “I met the duke who rules that fair duchy and even danced with him. I had my portrait painted by a great artist who had come from Venice to winter in San Lorenzo. When the painting arrives, we will hang it here in the hall. I remember once telling Margaret Tudor that country folk didn’t have such luxuries as their portraits painted.” Rosamund smiled.

“And what of Mistress Meg who is now a queen?” Maybel inquired.

“She was far gone with child at Christmastide, and she delivered a fair son this April. He’s a lovely, strong bonnie lad, Maybel, and the Queen of the Scots is at last a happy woman. She loves the king, and she has done her duty by Scotland,” Rosamund said. “I had to lie to her when I went off with Patrick to San Lorenzo, but she has forgiven me the untruth. That is why I sent Tom back to watch over Friarsgate in my absence. Did he tell you that he is purchasing Otterly from Uncle Henry?”

Her uncle Edmund now spoke up. “Aye. Even I am reduced to feeling sorry for my half-brother. That second wife of his was a wicked bitch. I never thought to see Henry Bolton brought so low, but he has been. Tom will see him well fed, well cared for, and well housed as long as he lives. The monies he is paying for Otterly have been put with a goldsmith in Carlisle. They cannot be touched. When my half-brother is rested once again in his mind and body he will make a will. You would not recognize him, Rosamund. He is as thin as a rail now.”

“Uncle Henry? He who was always so plump and dyspeptic? I am indeed surprised,” Rosamund replied.

“That fat face he once had is now as narrow as a hermit monk’s,” Maybel chimed in. “But the eyes staring out at you would give you a fright. They are both hopeless and empty of emotion at the same time. I think him no less dangerous for all his bad luck.”

“Wife, have mercy,” Edmund said.

“Fat or thin, he’s a bad one,” Maybel responded firmly. “I’ll not be unhappy to see Lord Tom back and in charge of Otterly. He says it is for Banon.”

“I know,” Rosamund said.

“Lord Leslie’s mission, then, did fail,” Father Mata said quietly.

“Aye,” Patrick answered him. “We remained in San Lorenzo the rest of the winter, for we were thought to be lovers briefly escaping from the obligations of our lives. Finally, on April first we began our return home, stopping first in Paris to reassure King Louis of King James’ fidelity.”

“It is unfortunate you were not successful, for peace is better than what will now come,” the priest said.

“Are you aware,” Maybel asked, “that Logan Hepburn has a wife?”

“I am,” Rosamund replied. “I was at his wedding to Mistress Jean, and we stopped last night at Claven’s Carn.”

“I wonder that you would not have him,” Edmund said slowly, and then seeing the look in his niece’s eye, he stopped.

“Where is Glenkirk?” Father Mata inquired politely of the earl.

“In the northeast Highlands. I am long a widower with a grown son and grandchildren,” Patrick answered him, offering the information he knew all of those who loved Rosamund sought from him.

“Patrick will remain with us as my guest for a time,” Rosamund told them.

“They’re lovers,” Maybel said afterwards to her husband, Edmund. “I never thought that my lass would be such a woman.”

“Leave her be, Maybel,” Edmund said quietly. “She is really in love for the first time in her life, and she is content. Can you not see it? Does she not deserve some happiness? We have been with her since her birth. We know what she has suffered and what she has endured. Rosamund has always done her duty by Friarsgate. She is entitled to some personal happiness. She is no longer a child.”

“She should marry again,” Maybel said stubbornly.

“Mayhap she will one day,” her spouse replied. “And mayhap not.”

“You thought Logan Hepburn would be a suitable mate for her,” Maybel persisted.

“I did, but Rosamund did not,” came the answer.

“But he loved her!” Maybel said.

“But he made the mistake of not telling her that the depth of his passion was for her and her alone. He could not keep silent about his need for a son. Rosamund did not like the idea she was being pursued because she was proved fecund, Maybel. I like this Earl of Glenkirk she has brought home.”

“He could be her father,” Maybel said, outraged.

“I doubt the depth of his feelings are particularly parental where my niece is concerned,” Edmund chuckled.

His wife swatted irritably at him. “He’ll not wed her. He has no need for a wife.”

“And Rosamund has no need for a husband,” Edmund reminded his mate.

“But to flaunt her lover before her daughters,” Maybel fussed.

“I am certain they will be discreet,” Edmund assured her.

“Banon and Bessie are not apt to see or understand it, but Philippa is eight now, and she has a sharp eye,” Maybel said.

“Remind her of that,” Edmund suggested gently.

“I most certainly will!” Maybel replied indignantly. “She has had him put in the chamber next to hers, and there is a connecting door. What would the children think if they entered her room and found that earl in her bed?”

Edmund chuckled, but Maybel looked outraged. “You will not be content, old woman, until you have had your say. So go and have it now.”

Throwing him an angry look, Maybel hurried off to find Rosamund. Her step was determined as she climbed the stairs. Reaching her mistress’ chamber, she opened the door without knocking. Surprised, Rosamund, who was alone, turned.

“Ah, Maybel, it is so good to be back,” she said, smiling, and then, seeing the look on the older woman’s face, she asked, “What is it? What is troubling you?”

“That man should not be here,” Maybel answered bluntly. “To display your lover to your innocent daughters! To expose them to your lechery is unforgivable. What are you thinking, child? Have you considered your lasses at all?”

Rosamund drew in a long breath and then exhaled. “Sit down,” she invited Maybel, motioning her to the bed. She, however, remained standing. “Do you recall my age now?” she asked the older woman, who shook her head. “I am twenty-three, Maybel. I have outlived three husbands, and I have three daughters. For twenty years I have done what was best for Friarsgate and its people. I will continue to do so. What I will not do, however, is be criticized for taking a bit of happiness for myself. I love you dearly, for you are the mother who raised me after my own perished. But that does not allow you the right to censure me. No one is more aware of my daughters than I am. Neither Patrick nor I will expose them to what you term ‘our lechery.’ We are lovers, yes. We have been since the first night we met and our eyes found each other across the Great Hall at Stirling Castle. I cannot explain it, and neither can he. It is simply the way it is. But to put your mind at ease, he would wed me if I would have him. He knows I prefer not to remarry, and so he does not press me. There can be no bairns of our coupling, for his seed was rendered lifeless years ago by an illness. Now, that should satisfy your curiosity, and I will not discuss it further.”

“Why won’t you wed him?” Maybel demanded, satisfied, but still inquisitive.

“Because I will not leave Friarsgate, and his allegiance is to Glenkirk,” Rosamund explained. “He will return to Scotland this autumn. Perhaps he will come back to Friarsgate again, and perhaps I shall never see him again. Neither of us knows what will happen, but we know we are not meant by the fates to be together always. Now, Maybel, that is an end to it. I shall say no more, and you will be your dear self to Patrick.”

“A woman who doesn’t want to be a wife,” Maybel opined. “I do not understand it at all!”

Rosamund laughed. “I know,” she said. “It will ever be a puzzle to you, dear Maybel. I do apologize for flummoxing you so.”

Maybel stood up. “Well, at least it is settled between us, child. Your earl seems a nice enough fellow. I can see you love him as you have never loved another. I’ll go back to the hall now and see that the supper is ready. Where is that lazy Annie?”

“I have seen she and her husband have a comfortable room. I want her to rest for a few days. She has traveled all the way from San Lorenzo with a bairn in her belly. She is very tired.”

“You spoil the wench,” Maybel grumbled. “After dinner I’ll have your bathwater brought so you may bathe.” Then she departed Rosamund’s chamber, closing the door firmly behind her.

“She loves you very much,” Patrick said, stepping through the door connecting their two chambers.

“You heard it all?” Reaching up, she stroked his handsome face with her fingers.

“I was about to come through when she burst in,” he replied. “She is right, you know. We must not set a bad example before your daughters. They are charming, by the way. I am particularly enamored of your youngest.”

“When we retire to our chambers we will lock both doors to the hallway,” Rosamund said. “There will be no interruptions, my lord. And you will share my bath tonight. I have a delightfully commodious tub for two. Owein always liked bathing with me,” she told him with a mischievous smile.

“He was obviously a man of good taste and discernment,” the earl said.

“Come and lie with me,” Rosamund begged.

“It is almost the supper hour, and it would not do if we did not appear, or worse, appeared flushed and rumpled,” he advised.

“We will just lie together and talk,” she promised him.

They stretched out upon her bed together.

“Your lands are fair,” he told her, “and very different from mine. Glenkirk stands amid the hills, though I have a loch, too. We can grow only what we need to sustain ourselves. Your fields, however, are bounteous enough to feed your vast flocks as well as your people. I look forward to riding out with you tomorrow.”

“We are indeed blessed,” Rosamund agreed. “Why must you leave me, Patrick? Can your son not manage your lands? Are you really needed at Glenkirk?”

“Until King James made me the Earl of Glenkirk, Rosamund, I was the laird of Glenkirk. I still am to my folk. I am their lord and the source of all that is good for them. I will be as long as I live,” Patrick said quietly. “My son will not be accepted until I am dead. He will be respected as my authority in my absence, but he will not be accepted as their master, Rosamund. I know why you do not leave Friarsgate. It is for the same reason. And your girls are too young to manage on their own.”

“I was managing at their age, but it was difficult, and I very much resented my uncle Henry, who coveted Friarsgate for himself. I will not put my daughters in that position. Maybel, Edmund, and my uncle Richard, who is the prior of St. Cuthbert’s, protected me from harm, but it was hard on them, and they are older now.”

“So we are at the same impasse as we have ever been,” he said softly.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I know,” she admitted, “and I hate it!”

He kissed the tears from her face. “We must be grateful for what we have,” he told her quietly.

She nodded, but beneath her acquiescence anger was beginning to burn. She loved this man, and she always would. She didn’t want to be separated from him. Ever.

At the evening meal the Earl of Glenkirk was seated on the lady of Friarsgate’s right hand. And on his right hand was Philippa Meredith, the heiress to Friarsgate. Banon and Bessie had been fed earlier and were abed now, but at eight Philippa came to table with the adults.

“You are very handsome for an old man,” Philippa observed.

“And you, I think, look like your mother,” he replied, restraining his laughter.

“Maybel says I am my mother, too,” Philippa responded. “Are you going to live here forever, my lord?”

“Nay,” he told the child. “I have come to visit, as your mama and I became friends at King James’ court. I shall depart for Glenkirk in the autumn.”

“Will you ever come back?” Philippa asked. “I think my mother would be very sad if you did not come back.”

“I will try to come back, Philippa,” the Earl of Glenkirk said. “I know I will want to come back, but sometimes what you want and what must be are not the same.”

“I thought grown-ups always got what they wanted,” was the reply.

Patrick laughed softly. “Would that it were so, my pretty maid, but it is not. Grown-ups must do their duty, and more often than not that duty conflicts with what they want. Still, a duty should always come first. You must remember that, for one day you will be the Lady of Friarsgate.”

The child nodded. “I think you have given me good advice, my lord. I will remember it.”

She was a serious little girl, he thought. His own lost daughter, Janet, was so different at that age. Janet, the half-wild Highland child who rode her pony at breakneck speed and protected her little brother from any who would tease him or otherwise seek to do him mischief. His Janet was as proud of her heritage as was this solemn little girl who was already gaining a sense of duty to Friarsgate. He had hated losing her to the heir of San Lorenzo, but better Rudolpho di San Lorenzo than the fate that had claimed her. Adam said that one day he would find his big sister, but Patrick doubted it.

The Earl of Glenkirk found that Friarsgate possessed the same isolation that his own Highland home did. The only news was brought by travelers, mostly peddlers coming over the border from Scotland. They learned that King James’ shipbuilding was progressing apace and that the heir to Scotland’s throne remained healthy and strong. Both the English and the Scots were strengthening their border garrisons. King James had signed a renewal of the alliance with France. In Europe war raged. Spain marched into Navarre, and Henry Tudor into Bayonne, awaiting their aid to win his French crown back. Disappointed, his fleet pounded the Breton coast as they made their way home to England once again.

The spring melded into a summer that seemed to move slowly one day and quickly the next. Now that Rosamund could swim, she insisted that Patrick teach her girls as he had taught her. Together they splashed about in her lake as Philippa, Banon, and Bessie giggled and sloshed each other with water in their efforts to learn.

“The water is certainly a lot colder than the sea in San Lorenzo,” Rosamund remarked the first time they swam.

“ ’Tis not as cold as Glenkirk’s loch,” he swore.

“Do you break the ice before you enter it, then?” she teased him back.

“Only in May,” he assured her. “You’ll see one day.”

“Aye, I’ll come to Glenkirk if you do not come back to me,” she threatened with a grin. “Not this year, but next, I shall take my girls and we will winter in your Highlands as long as you will come back to Friarsgate with us the rest of the year.”

“ ’Tis fair, and a good idea, sweetheart,” he agreed.

“That way neither of us shirks our responsibilities to our holdings,” he said.

They sat upon the lakeshore, watching the children.

“Oh, Patrick!” Rosamund said, and her voice was filled with hope. “Could we? It would be a perfect solution to the problem that besets us.”

“Aye,” he agreed slowly, “and then perhaps you would agree to marry me, Rosamund, and we shall never be parted again.”

“Let us see how your son likes me first, darling,” she advised. “I will drive no wedge between you two. Return to me in the springtime, Patrick, and if we are both of the same mind then, I shall come back with you to Glenkirk next winter with my girls.”

“And we can be wed then,” he told her.

She nodded. “But we must say naught to any right now, my lord. It will be our secret. There can be no marriage between us unless your son approves. Let Adam know me before you speak with him. Please.”

“Very well, my darling. It shall be as you desire, for I cannot refuse you anything, it would seem.”

In early September a carter arrived requesting payment for the great crate that he had transported from the port of Newcastle-on-Tyne to Friarsgate. Going into her strong-box, Rosamund counted out the coins, but she said, “Open the crate for me first that I may make certain your cargo is not damaged. Be careful!” she warned as the carter and his helper began to pull the crate apart.

Shortly, the painting as done by Maestro Loredano was revealed. The two carters lifted it from its packaging and held it up for all to see. There were great oohs from those gathered in the hall.

“ ’Tis beautiful, lass,” Edmund said. “I have never seen the like before.”

“It would have traveled easier had he just sent the canvas,” Rosamund noted dryly, “but I suspect that the maestro would trust no one but himself to see to the framing.” Her eyes met the earl’s. “I wonder what happened to the other painting.”

Patrick laughed. “I suspect we shall never know, Madonna.” Then he explained to Edmund and Maybel about the two paintings.

“He don’t sound very respectable to me, this painter fellow,” Maybel said.

“He was not respectable as we would have it,” the earl answered her, “but you will agree that the fellow is talented. His rendition of Rosamund is masterful.”

“Aye,” Edmund agreed. “He has her so lifelike that I would expect her to step from the painting, my lord.”

The harvest was now gathered in, and Friarsgate began to prepare for the winter to come. The anniversary of Sir Owein Meredith’s death was celebrated in the little estate church. It was now three years since he had fallen from a tree in the orchard and broken his neck. The days were growing noticeably shorter, and the nights were now cold. Both Rosamund and Patrick were avoiding the inevitable.

“I can remain no longer or I shall have to spend the winter here,” he told her one evening as they lay abed.

“Do not leave me,” she begged him. “I am so fearful that if we break the spell that has surrounded us these past months I shall never see you again.”

“Then come with me,” he said, and he caressed her beautiful auburn hair.

She shook her head. “You know I cannot, Patrick. I am amazed at all I have done in this past year and the places I have been in that time, thanks to you. Promise me that you will return in the spring when the snows have left your Highlands. Oh, I wish you could at least remain until your birthday!”

“December is too late a time for me to travel. It is already October, and I should have gone two weeks ago,” he said. “Rosamund, I am leaving tomorrow.”

She cried out as if he had struck her, but then, turning a brave face to him, she said, “Then you must love me tonight, Patrick, as if you will not love me ever again!” She pulled his head to hers, and their lips met in a fierce kiss, each of them drawing from the other. She ran her tongue over his mouth, tasting him hungrily. His hands cupped her bottom, drawing her closer. “I love you!” she sobbed.

“And I love you as I have never loved another, Rosamund Bolton!” he declared. He caressed her, meaning it to be tender, but instead his touch aroused her passions. His mouth closed over a nipple, and he drew upon it even as he fondled the round soft flesh of her breasts. His fingers played between her thighs, and then she surprised him by turning herself about so she might take his manhood between her hands and suckle upon it. Her facile little tongue ran up and down the length of him. It encircled the ruby knob, and he moaned with pleasure as he experienced a delight he had not imagined her capable of giving. But before she unmanned him, he forced her away and onto her back once more. He mounted her and pushed into her welcoming heat, taking her face between his two big hands as he did, watching the subtle play of passion upon her lovely face as he thrust slowly back and forth until she was half-sobbing with her own pleasure. He bent his body now and gave her a long, slow kiss. “How is it that you make me young again, my sweet border lover? In what time and what place have we been before? I have never understood, Rosamund, but I do not care any longer, as long as I have your love for now and always!” His movements on her became more demanding.

The taste of him had been the most stimulating aphrodisiac she had ever known. She had not wanted to release him from between her lips, but she had also been developing a terrible need for him between her thighs, which he had quickly filled. Rosamund reveled in the feel of his manhood, thick and hard inside her. He taunted and teased her with his prowess as he moved back and forth, back and forth. For a long moment she believed that nothing would give her release, and then the delicious tingling began, and she was dizzy with the pleasure Patrick offered. “I love you!” she cried, and his lips met hers as her body began to experience spasms of passionate fulfillment as he released his love juices within her.

Rosamund wept afterwards. “I cannot bear it that we will be parted these next months,” she sobbed.

He said nothing, for there was nothing left for him to say. Instead, he held her within the shelter of his arms and stroked her auburn head tenderly. Eventually, Rosamund fell asleep, but Patrick remained awake for some time. Was this the last time they would be together? Nay, he did not feel that at all. He would return in the springtime, and they would love again. His instincts had proven correct so far. He had no reason to doubt them now, and he would not. Still, he regretted that he must go. The winter would seem very long without his Rosamund.

In the morning he bid them all farewell. Bessie, who had become the earl’s special pet, cried to see him go. Dermid would accompany his master, but he would return in time for the birth of his first child in December. Edmund and Maybel were genuinely sorry to see Patrick depart. Rosamund put on a brave face, but Annie howled and cried until Maybel threatened to smack her.

“He’ll be back, you foolish lass,” she told the girl. “Were you not wed by a bishop in a cathedral? And is it not his child you carry?”

“Be brave, lass,” Dermid said. “I have to go home and tell my ma, now, don’t I?”

The two men mounted their horses, and Rosamund, standing by the earl’s stirrup, looked up with a tearstained face and whispered, “Remember I love you, Patrick.”

He leaned down, lifted her up enough to kiss her lips, and replied, “And remember that I love you, Rosamund Bolton.” Then he set her down again.

The others dispersed, returning to their duties, but Rosamund remained, watching until nothing of Patrick Leslie, Earl of Glenkirk, was visible but a faint cloud of golden dust. Returning to her bedchamber, she flung herself on the bed they had shared and wept wildly. The scent of him was yet on the pillows. I cannot bear it, she thought desperately. I cannot live without him for six months. Oh, God! Why did I not have Mata marry us now? Why did I not at least go with him? But she knew the answers to her questions even as she silently voiced them. The earl’s son must approve a match between his long-widowed father and the lady of Friarsgate. Nor could she leave her girls again. Since their father’s tragic death she had spent too much time away from them. Rosamund wished her cousin Tom were here now to comfort her. Then she sighed, and rising from her bed, she washed the tears from her face. She had duties to complete, and if she did not return to the hall soon, her daughters would be frightened. Taking a deep breath, the lady of Friarsgate walked from her bedchamber and down the staircase to where they all awaited her anxiously.