Logan nodded. “Aye, she is wise where the lassie is concerned. Friarsgate is no small inheritance. I see you have added Shropshires to your flocks.”
“We have,” Edmund replied.
“What do you seek of me, then?” the laird of Claven’s Carn asked his companions.
“We wish to hire some of your clansmen who might otherwise be idle, to serve us as men-at-arms in the event that Henry Bolton the younger and his friends decide to take matters into their own hands while Rosamund is in the south,” Edmund explained.
Logan nodded. “Aye, ’tis a wise precaution, Edmund Bolton. Now, allow me to make another suggestion. If Rosamund’s younger daughters are not at Friarsgate while she is away, they will be safer. I would gladly keep those two lassies secure from harm at Claven’s Carn. Henry the younger will never know or even consider the girls are so near, just over the border with me. And I will also lend you two dozen of my own people to serve you as men-at-arms. That should certainly deter the lady’s cousin from his mischief.”
“ ’Tis a brilliant suggestion, my dear boy!” Tom enthused, speaking for the first time in the matter. “Of course, we would send a lass or two with the girls to attend them, you understand.”
“Of course,” the laird replied, “but Jeannie, God assoil her sweet soul, trained me a fine housekeeper who keeps the servants in good order. Mistress Elton has granddaughters of her own. My house is well fortified. It has never fallen in a siege because our well is within our courtyard, as is our granary. I think the lady’s lasses would enjoy my wee son, Johnnie, and he them.”
“We must, of course, speak with Rosamund, Logan Hepburn,” Edmund said.
“I have not seen her since I arrived,” the laird responded, attempting to sound casual, but his tone gave him away. “I have news of the queen for her.”
“Go gently, lad,” Tom warned him softly.
“I am certain Rosamund will join us at table this evening,” Edmund answered. “We will discuss the matter further then, Logan Hepburn. It is a generous offer, and a clever one, too. It is unlikely Henry the younger would think to look to Claven’s Carn.”
“I do not know if I can sit at the high board with him,” Rosamund said when her uncle told her that the laird was with them.
“You must,” Edmund responded. “He has agreed to hire out his clansmen to us at a most reasonable rate, but it is his offer to shelter Banon and Bessie that pleases me greatly. They will be far safer from my nephew Henry at Claven’s Carn than here. At Friarsgate they could be kidnapped as they walked to the church, or played in a meadow or by the lake. If they are constantly guarded by men-at-arms it will frighten them, niece. Now, tell me why you will not face Logan Hepburn.” He took her hand and looked into her lovely face.
Rosamund blushed. “Now he is a widower, I fear he will begin again to importune me to marry him,” she said. “If I offend him, he could withdraw his offer of support.”
Edmund smiled. “Would it be so dreadful, niece, if a handsome man sought to pay you court? Forgive me, but Patrick Leslie is as dead to you now as Owein Meredith. You are fortunate in your memories, but you are yet young. Philippa is ten, and in a few years, too few I might add, she will be ready for marriage. You were willing to spend part of your year at Glenkirk as the earl’s wife. Would it be any different should you wed Logan Hepburn one day, Rosamund? At least he has an heir, and you know he has no designs on Friarsgate,” Edmund concluded.
She was silent for a long moment, and then she said, “I will come to the high board, uncle. More than that, however, I will not promise you.”
“Try not to fight with him, niece,” Edmund said with some humor.
Rosamund laughed. She could not help herself. “Very well, uncle,” she promised him.
Logan tried not to stare when she came into the hall. She wore a gown that matched her amber eyes. It was a simple dress that fell in graceful folds. Its neckline was low and square, but made modest by its soft linen pleating. The tight sleeves had little fur cuffs. The bodice was close-fitting as well. An embroidered girdle hung from her waist. Her auburn head was bare, and she wore her hair in two simple plaits.
“Good evening, Logan Hepburn,” she greeted him. “Thank you for coming to our aid once again.”
“Henry the younger is ever a trial to Friarsgate, isn’t he?” the laird teased her.
She smiled. “I can but hope I do not have to spend my life quarreling with him as I did his father,” Rosamund said. “Please sit down, here on my right hand,” she invited.
He obliged her, seating her first before taking his own place.
“I am sorry about your wife,” Rosamund told him. “And to lose a bairn, as well. If I had but known she was alone, I should have gone to her aid, Logan. I liked Jeannie muchly. How is your little Johnnie?”
“He thrives,” the laird answered. “She was a good wife, Rosamund, and I respected her greatly.” Then, after a pause, he said, “I am sorry for your loss, as well, lass.”
A spasm passed over her visage, but then she said, “Thank you.” Nothing more.
“I bring you happy news,” Logan told her. “Queen Margaret was delivered of a fine son, Alexander, Duke of Ross, on the thirtieth day of April.”
“How wonderful for her, and yet how sad,” Rosamund said.
“That is your birthday, isn’t it, lady?” he inquired.
“Aye,” she said softly, wondering how he had known it.
The meal was served. Of Rosamund’s three daughters, only Philippa sat at table.
“I am to go to court to meet the queen,” Philippa said. “I am now ten.”
“A perfect age to meet a queen,” he said with a small smile. She was a charming miniature of Rosamund, he thought.
“I was nine when I met Queen Margaret and King James, he who was slain at Flodden,” Philippa replied. “My mother says he was a good king.”
“God’s blood!” Tom swore, and then he said to Philippa, “You must not say that when we visit the English court, dear child. Speak of the king’s sister, the Regent of Scotland, if you must, but say naught about Jamie Stewart.”
“Why not?” Philippa demanded to know.
“Because,” her mother said, “these two kings were enemies. It is ill-advised to praise a man’s enemy before him, Philippa. Do you understand?”
“Why were they enemies?” Philippa answered her mother with another question.
“England and Scotland have been enemies since time immemorial,” Rosamund responded.
“Why?” Philippa persisted.
“I am not really certain,” Rosamund said honestly.
“But you visited King James’ court, and I know you did not think him your enemy. And if the Scots are our enemies, why is the lord of Claven’s Carn at our table this night, mama? And why is he protecting Banon and Bessie when we are away if he is our enemy?”
Tom chuckled.
“Your daughter is no fool, madame,” the laird of Claven’s Carn noted.
“Sometimes I think Philippa too wise for her own good,” Rosamund said quietly. Then she turned back to her child. “The English and the Scots in the borders sometimes have a different relationship than others of our race, Philippa. I cannot really give you a good explanation for it. Queen Margaret was my friend at her father’s court when I was growing up, but you know that. My friend asked me to visit her, and as there was no war between our countries then, I went. I should go again if she asked me. As for the Hepburns of Claven’s Carn, they have been our neighbors forever. I do not believe we have ever fought each other. Uncle Tom will be with us at court. Edmund is too old to mount a strong defense of Friarsgate, although I know he would try if asked, but I will not ask it of him. The laird has kindly offered to protect your sisters, and I am grateful for his offer. I will accept it gladly. The only thing separating England and Scotland in this particular matter is an invisible border, Philippa. But if it is invisible, then we cannot see it and so it is not there. The Hepburns are our neighb
ors. They are good neighbors.”
“Thank you, madame,” Logan said.
She nodded in reply, and for a moment she grew breathless. She had forgotten that his eyes were so blue-blue.
“Am I to understand that your lasses will come to me?” he said carefully, not wanting to press her in any manner. Tom had warned him to go gently.
“Did I not make myself clear in the matter, my lord?” she asked him, a trifle irritated.
“I would not presume, madame, which is why I query you,” he told her, and his eyes were dancing.
Rosamund felt her cheeks growing warm with a memory. Once she had indeed accused him of presuming when he had said he but assumed. She looked directly at him, and to her surprise, her heart began to hammer again. What the hell was the matter with her? “Yes,” she said, “I should like you to keep Banon and Bessie at Claven’s Carn while I am away, my lord. And I thank you for your kindness in offering my daughters your protection.”
Still seated, he bowed from the waist. “I am glad to be of some service to you, madame,” he told her, his face impassive, his tone mild. “I think it might be best if I took them back with me tomorrow. It is not likely your unpleasant cousin has gotten his thoughts or his men together yet. I realize it is short notice, but your daughters’ safety must be our first consideration. And in addition to the men-at-arms I shall loan you, I shall also send my men to escort you south. With Henry the younger skulking about, you cannot be certain any men-at-arms you hire will not be subverted by false promises. They will not wear their plaids, and to an untrained ear, a Scots borderer and an English borderer sound much alike. They will claim to be your own Friarsgate folk.”
“That is very generous of you, Logan Hepburn,” Rosamund exclaimed.
“It is brilliant!” Thomas enthused.
“Indeed it is,” Edmund agreed.
“With your permission, madame, I can make it so,” he said.
Rosamund looked closely at Logan. There was absolutely no mockery in his tone or his attitude. She nodded. “Aye, I would be glad to have your men protecting me. I will pay them the usual rate for hired men-at-arms, of course.”
“Of course,” he replied. “They will all be grateful for the coin, madame, for it is not often they can come by a bit of silver.”
The meal over, Rosamund arose from the table. “I must go and see that Banon and Bessie’s belongings are packed for the morrow.” She hurried from the hall.
When she had gone, Philippa said, “You like my mother, don’t you, Logan Hepburn?”
He turned his blue eyes to meet her gaze. “Aye, I have always liked your mother, lass.”
Philippa was very curious. “When did you first meet her?”
“I first saw your mother when she was Bessie’s age,” he answered her.
“She was married to Hugh Cabot, then, was she not?”
“Not the summer I first saw her, but soon afterwards,” he told the girl, looking to Edmund and Tom for guidance, but they said nothing, nor gave any indication that he should cease his tale. “Then, when your mother was widowed, I came courting, but she had gone to court. And when she returned she was betrothed and about to wed with your good sire, Owein Meredith. And sadly, she was widowed again.”
“Why didn’t you come courting then, my lord?” Philippa pressed him.
“I did, but I did not approach your mother properly. She turned me away and went up to Edinburgh,” he explained.
“And she fell in love with Uncle Patrick. But he has forgotten her now. She is always very sad, my lord. Do you wish to court her again?”
Logan heard his two male companions chuckle softly. He swallowed hard, not quite certain what he should say, but Philippa was not going to be denied an answer. She stared directly at him, her head cocked to one side questioningly. “Aye,” he told the little girl. “I should very much like to court your mother and marry her, lass, but she is a prickly creature, and I must move carefully this time, for I do not want to lose her again. You must not tell her this, Philippa. Do you understand why?”
Philippa nodded. “I will try to see she contracts no involvements while we are visiting King Henry, my lord. My sisters and I are in agreement that mama is happier with a good husband than without one. We think that you should do very well as our stepfather, if, of course, you are in agreement.”
Astounded, he nodded slowly. “Aye,” he said.
“Then, it is settled,” Philippa told him, and she arose from the high board. “Mama will need my help. I shall leave you gentlemen now.” And she glided from the hall with far more elegance than most girls her age had.
Tom and Edmund burst out laughing, and the two men laughed until their eyes watered, and their sides ached.
“She has far more presence at ten than my own poor Jeannie did at eighteen,” the laird of Claven’s Carn said when his companions finally ceased their laughter. “God’s blood! I hope she will not tell Rosamund of our conversation.”
“She won’t,” Edmund assured him. “She is much like her great-grandmother. My father’s wife was a woman of much good sense who liked to have her life and the lives of those about her well ordered. Philippa is the same. She may look like her mother, but she is nothing like her in character. She will keep this conversation that you have had to herself until she feels the time is right to reveal it. If indeed she ever does.”
“She is an unusual little lass,” Logan said.
Edmund arose from the table. “Come with me, Logan Hepburn, and I will show you where you are to sleep this night. Good night, Tom.”
Lord Cambridge stood up. “Good night, Edmund. Logan,” he said, and he strolled off to find his own bed.
In her rooms, Rosamund had gathered her two younger daughters to her and explained that they would be going to Claven’s Carn for a visit. “The poor laird is very lonely without his wife, and you will have his little lad to play with, my darlings.”
They nodded, not objecting, but they knew the truth, for Philippa had told it to them earlier. She had also told them not to say anything to their mother, for it would but distress her to learn that they knew. “She thinks we are still babies,” Philippa had said.
When she had tucked her daughters into their beds, Rosamund went to help with the packing. Maybel was already gathering what Banon and Bessie would need.
“I am frankly surprised at your good sense in allowing Logan Hepburn to watch over the lasses,” she said bluntly to Rosamund.
“I had to put aside my own feelings and think of what is best for my daughters,” Rosamund answered her.
“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 En
glish 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.
Until You Page 39
