“What?” His father and his father-in-law, speaking in unison, looked startled by his words.
But Thomas Bolton understood. “Ah,” he said. “How well you know her, dear boy. Of course. My lips shall be sealed in the matter until I am told otherwise.”
“Well, I don’t understand,” the master of Grayhaven said.
“Nor I,” Logan Hepburn concurred. “What nonsense is this, Baen?”
“Elizabeth needs to feel that the decision to marry me is all her own. I will gladly agree to a proxy wedding here at Grayhaven for my protection, and so my father and brothers may participate. But Elizabeth is not to know. Not now. Perhaps not ever. I do not want her any angrier than I know she already is. And I do not want her feeling that her hand was forced in this matter. She is the lady of Friarsgate, and has always maintained a certain dignity. She will consent to wed me, but she must come to that conclusion by herself.”
“The lass must be brought to heel immediately, Baen, or you will have no peace in your house,” Logan Hepburn declared, and Colin Hay nodded in agreement.
“Have you ever been able to bring Rosamund to heel?” Baen asked wickedly.
“That’s different!” Logan insisted.
“Nay, ’tis not, and Elizabeth is Rosamund’s daughter,” Baen said with a grin. “You have weaseled your way around your wife even as I will weasel my way about my darling Elizabeth, Logan. And I will have peace in my home as you do in yours.”
The laird of Claven’s Carn chuckled. “You’re right, of course,” he said.
“I know,” Baen responded. He turned to his father. “Will you send for the priest then, Da? If he can come at once we can leave in another two days. I am anxious to get back to Friarsgate. The trip will not be easy.”
The priest came the following day. The situation was explained. Father Andrew witnessed the signing of the marriage contract, and then performed the ceremony with Lord Cambridge, resplendent in his scarlet clothing, standing in for the bride. Afterwards the master of Grayhaven held a small feast in honor of the marriage just celebrated. He sat at his high board with Thomas Bolton to his right, the priest and the laird of Claven’s Carn to his left. They watched as his piper played and his three sons danced to the spritely tunes, their laughter and affection for one another obvious as they vied back and forth for their father’s approval. And the night came, and the hall emptied slowly until only Colin Hay and his son Baen remained, seated together by the fire, their wine cups almost empty.
“You’ll not be back,” the master of Grayhaven said to his firstborn.
“I know,” Baen answered.
“I’m proud of you,” Colin Hay said, “even if you are a mutton-headed fool. You might have been happy with your lass these last months but that you came home, lad. And for what? For me? The da who never even knew of your existence until you were already half-grown? I’ve never understood why your mother never told me. Why she let herself be wed to that miserable Parlan Gunn when he would not even pretend you were his and give you his name. He would have had a fine son in you, Baen.”
“I think she thought it was for her parents’ sake she marry Parlan,” Baen replied. “They had arranged the marriage. Parlan had taken her with little dower. He had been good to them. And by pretending not to know who you were but for your Christian name she believed she was protecting you. Had Parlan known he would have extorted you, for he was a venal as well as a cruel man, Da. Only when she knew she would no longer be there to protect me did she reveal her secret, and only to me. Her parents were dead by then, and she had no one else to shield.”
“I remember that day you came to my door. You were thin with your hunger, and your clothing was threadbare. But you were mine, and I never had a moment’s doubt when you told me who had borne you, and mothered you,” Colin Hay said, tears of remembrance in his eyes. “You flinched, I remember, when I reached out to draw you into the house. You were afraid, but you never admitted to it, lad.” Reaching out, the master of Grayhaven ruffled his son’s black hair, which was so like his own. “They’ve been good years we’ve shared together, lad.”
“I’ll miss you, Da,” Baen told his father. “I’ll miss Grayhaven.”
“You’ll have the memories, lad. Cherish them, for they are yours alone. And make new memories. This Friarsgate is a fair place, you’ve said.”
“Aye, it is. The hills rise all about it, and the lake spreads out before it. The meadows there are greener than anywhere else I’ve ever been. And there is peace there, Da. A wonderful, gentle peace that enfolds it all. I have loved it since the first moment I laid eyes on it,” he told his sire.
“It sounds to me like home,” Colin Hay said softly.
“Aye, it is,” Baen admitted.
“Then that is where you belong, lad. Not here at Grayhaven, but at Friarsgate, with a lass who loves you, and your bairns about you,” his father told him.
“Will you come one day and see us, Da?” Baen asked his father.
Colin Hay shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “In my youth I served in the Earl of Errol’s household. While it was exciting to be involved in the king’s court, I missed my home terribly. Once I returned I vowed to never again leave it. Everything I have is here. I visit now again with old Glenkirk, for he was briefly at court with his children when I was there. He enjoys speaking of the old days, as most elderly men do.”
“Children? I thought the earl had but a son,” Baen remarked. “Lord Adam.”
“He had a daughter too once,” Colin Hay said. “A beautiful fiery little lass named Janet. I begged my father to make us a match, but then they were gone from court to Europe, for the earl was an ambassador for King James. ’Tis a long story,” he concluded with a smile. “Nay, I shall not go down into England, Baen, and you will not come north again, I know. We shall say our good-byes tonight, my son. Ours is not an unusual situation. Most children bid farewell to a parent at marriage, and never see them again in this life. For twenty years I have had you by my side, and it has pained me knowing I could give you nothing more but my love and respect. That everything else I had must go to Jamie because he is my legitimate son.”
“He’s worthy of you, Da,” Baen said. “He’s a good son to you, and always will be. And Gilly too. I’ll miss you, but I know you’ll be safe with my brothers.”
“You speak as if I’m an old man,” the master of Grayhaven snapped.
“You’re past fifty,” Baen teased him.
