So the king gave away those offices and honors he had reserved for Angus to the others. My poor cousin Patrick is now lord high admiral of Scotland, and he hates the sea.” Hercules laughed heartily. “Thank God we have Sir Andrew Woods to man our small fleet.
Though why Scotland has any kind of fleet is a mystery to me.” Hercules Hepburn drained his cup, and Adair quickly refilled it. He gave her a wink, which caused Conal to scowl, and almost caused her to break into a fit of giggles.
“It is so good of you to come to tell us the news, Hercules,” she told him.
“I’m glad to pass on to you what I know, but I am also the bearer of an invitation. As Scotland is officially in mourning for the king’s sire, there will be no Christmas court at Stirling, but the Hepburn, in his capacity as the new Earl of Bothwell, will be hosting the king, and invites you to Hailes for the New Year. The celebration will be muted, of course, just old friends,” Hercules told them.
“I do not know,” Conal said, “if we will be able to accept the earl’s invitation.”
“The king especially asked that his lovely English cousin be invited,” Hercules said quietly. “Hailes is not large, but there will be few ladies present.”
“My lord,” Adair said carefully, putting a small hand upon her husband’s sleeve, “it is an honor that the earl does us. Please, may we not go? I should so enjoy it.”
Hercules Hepburn hid the smile that threatened to break forth on his face. The lady of Cleit was extremely clever, and her husband was besotted by her. But he hadalso heard it said that the Englishwoman had been raised in a royal court. She therefore knew the ways of the mighty, and despite her stubborn mate would prevail in her desire to go to Hailes at New Year’s. She would not lose an opportunity for her husband and Clan Bruce to gain favor with the new king, or with the Earl of Bothwell.
“What if you are with child?” he demanded to know.
“I am not with child,” Adair replied calmly.
“But it is only late summer. You could be with child by late December,” the laird persisted. “You have lost one bairn, madam. Will you lose another?”
“If I am with child then,” Adair told him, “we can reconsider our decision to go to Hailes, but ’tis only a day’s journey away, Conal. I would not offend either the king or the earl by refusing them now. But, of course, you must decide, for you are the laird of Cleit, and I just your wife. Still, if you would make me happy you would send Hercules back to his cousin to say we will be there,” she finished. And she smiled up into his face.
Amused, Hercules Hepburn watched the play ofemotions across the laird’s face. He wanted to be master in his own house, but he also wanted to make his wife happy. And she was certainly giving him every opportunity to preserve his dignity. She had not taken the initiative, as some women might have, and said he was being silly and that of course they would accept the earl’s invitation. She had not wept, or sulked, stamped her feet at him, or accused him of wanting to make her unhappy. Instead she was skillfully leading him to the conclusion that she desired. A most formidable woman, the lady of Cleit, Hercules Hepburn decided silently to himself.
“Tell Patrick Hepburn that we will be pleased to accept his invitation for the New Year’s celebration, provided the weather will cooperate,” Conal Bruce finally said.
“He will be pleased, my lord, and so will the king,”came the reply.
This visit Hercules Hepburn remained the night. He was an amusing man who enjoyed telling stories about his clan. When he departed in the morning Adair was sorry to see him go, for they rarely received visitors at Cleit.
The summer came to an end, and one day in October Adair rode out with Conal, Murdoc, and a few of their clansmen to help bring the shaggy short-horned cattle they owned closer to the keep. They had almost reached the herd when they spied another party of horsemen coming from the other direction. The laird swore beneath his breath. The other riders showed no badges of service, which meant they were probably raiders. The laird called a halt to his party.
“Go back to the keep,” he said to Adair.
“If I break away from our party someone from theirs will come after me,” she replied. “I’ll not be sold again, Conal Bruce!”
“We’re going to get into a fight,” he said. “I can’t keep my mind on defending myself and my cattle if I am going to worry about you, damn it!”
“I can fight,” Adair said.
“Jesu, woman, do what you are told. Murdoc, take her back and see the gates to Cleit are barred.”
Murdoc reached out and, taking the bridle of Adair’s horse, galloped off even as his brother urged his men forward again to meet the raiders. When they had gained the safety of the keep and its gates had been slammed shut behind them, Adair slid from her horse and dashed for the keep’s battlement, where she might view what was happening. Murdoc was close on her heels. Together they viewed Conal Bruce and his men as they met head-on with the intruders. They both realized at the same time that there was no battle being fought.
Instead both parties turned together and rode toward the keep.
As they drew near Adair thought she recognized the rider by her husband’s side. She carefully picked her way from the battlement, with Murdoc coming behind her. They climbed down the ladder from the heights into the attic hall below, and then down the stairs, hurrying into the hall from one direction as the laird entered from the other.
Adair immediately recognized the man in her husband’s company. “Robert!” she said. “Robert Lynbridge!” She came forward, her hands outstretched in greeting, and embraced him warmly. “What brings you to Cleit?”
“You know him?” the laird demanded.
“He is Andrew’s older brother,” Adair said. “Andrew Lynbridge, my late husband who died at Bosworth.
How is your Allis, and how are the bairns?” She signaled for refreshment for their guest and led him to the hearth to warm himself, sitting down next to Robert on the settle. “I did not ever expect to see you again, Robert,” she told him.
“I have been looking for you, Adair. For many months now,” Robert said. “We did not know Stanton had been raided until late the following summer, when the king’s messenger came to us. He had gone to Stanton, but he found it quite deserted. We rode back with him, and after some time we discovered an elderly couple hiding in one of the cottages. They were terrified we were raiders too, and had come to kill them. When we finally convinced them we were not, they told us a man named William Douglas had raided Stanton, and carried its lady and many others off. Most of the men, they said, had been slain. They spent days with those other few who had not been taken burying the dead. In the winter the others had died, and they were all that was left of the Stanton folk.
