“My father was unique. He fell in love with my mother long before it was even considered that he be the one to wed her and protect these lands from invasion. It was a different time when my father came to Friarsgate, Baen. He was a knight who had begun his service in the household of the last king’s uncle as a small child. He understood service and rendered it loyally. Now I am told by my uncle that the court is not only filled with young noblemen seeking to ingratiate themselves with the king, but the wealthy sons of tradesmen as well. A girl with a northern holding would not interest them, and if she did they would not want to come north to husband either me or my lands. And I will live nowhere but Friarsgate, and my mother would not accept any match unless the man agreed to remain here. Nor would I accept a husband who wouldn’t.”
“A man like that might be the perfect mate for you,” Baen said, and he led Elizabeth from the floor, as the music had now ceased. “You would remain here looking after Friarsgate, and he would remain at court seeking advancement.”
“He would return to court thinking himself a rich man to borrow on my lands, and even lose them,” Elizabeth said. “Nay. Whatever fate may have in store for me, it is not to be found at King Henry’s court.”
“But you will go anyway,” he remarked.
“Aye,” Elizabeth said with a great sigh.
“To please your family,” he continued.
“Aye, and to make them stop attempting to force me into a marriage that I neither want nor would be happy with. So I will go, and then I will return, hopefully in time for midsummer,” she finished with a little smile. “I do love our summers!”
“I think you will find a husband,” he told her. “You are very beautiful in this gown, Elizabeth Meredith, and you sparkle when you dance.”
“If you think flattering me will gain you a better price for my sheep, you are mistaken,” she teased him in an effort to cover her discomfort. No one had ever said she was beautiful, or looked into her eyes with such admiration as did Baen MacColl. It was an odd feeling that sent a shiver down her spine.
“Those pink pearls are lovely, daughter,” Rosamund’s voice interrupted them. “I suspect they are a gift from your uncle, are they not?” She came to stand next to them.
“Aye,” Elizabeth said. “Uncle has presented me with lovely jewels for my court visit. Will you come now, Mother, and see them?”
“Indeed,” Rosamund replied, and linking arms with her daughter she led her from the hall. She had been uncomfortable with the way the young Scot was looking at Elizabeth. Surely he had no pretensions in her direction. He certainly knew his place in the world. He was a bastard son. Well loved, that was obvious. But not the sort of man who was suitable for the heiress of Friarsgate. And Elizabeth, unused to suitors, would not understand whether his intentions towards her were honorable or dishonorable. Tom would have to keep a very close watch on her when they were at court. And she would advise Philippa as well of the situation. Philippa had a strong sense of propriety that had increased greatly since her elevation to the peerage.I shall remain here at Friarsgate until Elizabeth leaves for court,Rosamund decided.In my desire to be a good wife to Logan, I have overlooked this youngest daughter of my beloved Owein. She has been such a good chatelaine I have not considered her ignorance where men are concerned. It is a very dangerous gap in her education.
Baen watched them go, and silently chided himself again for speaking to Elizabeth as he very well knew he should not have. And she was too innocent in the ways of men to understand it. But she had been wondrously fair in that pink gown. She was like a perfect rose. An English rose. And he was a Scot, and entirely unsuitable in so many ways for a girl like Elizabeth Meredith. He had seen a look in her mother’s eye that told him she suspected his regard for her daughter, and did not approve. Of course she would not approve. The bastard of the master of Grayhaven was not a proper match for the heiress of Friarsgate. And for the first time in his life, Baen MacColl was ashamed of his birth. And he silently despaired, for he knew he was falling in love with Elizabeth, and it could come to nothing. Nothing at all. He walked back to join the other men.
“Which of the breeds will you purchase?” the laird of Claven’s Carn asked the younger man.
“The Shropshires and the cheviots,” Baen replied.
“You didn’t like the merinos? Their wool is the finest if you are seeking to improve your father’s flocks,” Logan Hepburn said.
“I have not seen the merinos,” Baen answered him. “Until this moment I have never even heard of such a breed.”
“That is because the merinos are not for sale,” Lord Cambridge quickly said. “The first of the flock were imported from Spain several years ago at the behest of the queen. She and my cousin are old friends. It is a small flock, and we have none to spare.” He smiled pleasantly at Baen. “I suspect dear Elizabeth did not bother to show them to you because she could not sell them.”
“Of course,” Baen answered him. “If the sheep are few, but valuable to her, it would be imprudent to sell any. Perhaps in the future when the flock is larger, and she can spare some.”
“Of course,” Thomas Bolton replied, smiling.
“I did not realize I was speaking out of turn,” Logan Hepburn said.
“Not at all, dear boy,” Lord Cambridge assured him.
There was an awkward silence, and then Alexander Hepburn said, “When are we going home, Da? Tomorrow, I hope.”
“Aye, tomorrow will do, lad.” He turned again to Tom Bolton. “Johnnie is watching over the holding. He cannot do a great deal of damage in the short time we have been here. I am hoping I can get that foolishness over the church out of his head, if he will understand his responsibilities for once.”
“You have five sons, dear boy. If John seeks God, why do you attempt to stop him? I suspect Jeannie would have approved. She was a gentle girl herself,” Thomas Bolton recalled. “Cousin Richard would gladly take him into St. Cuthbert’s.”
“God’s foot, Tom, he’s my firstborn!” Logan exploded.
“And entirely unsuitable to be the next laird of Claven’s Carn,” Lord Cambridge shot back. “Alexander is a far better choice, and you know it. You are just being difficult, dear boy. Having an eldest son who seeks to be a priest is not a slight to your vaunted manhood. What say you, Mata?”
Father Mata, Logan Hepburn’s bastard brother, had been sitting quietly listening to the others. Now he looked at his half brother and said, “Let Johnnie go, Logan. If he seeks the priesthood, let him have it.”
“I don’t want people to say that I pushed my firstborn aside for Rosamund’s sons,” the laird of Claven’s Carn said quietly.
“Those who know us will rejoice in your generosity towards Johnnie. Those who do not will say what they will say,” the priest responded. “You endanger your own immortal soul by keeping from the priesthood a son who seeks it.”
