“The old king was easier to manage,” Hercules replied.
“Of course he was,” Adair said. “He preferred what he thought was diplomacy to war. But this young king is not so amenable, and cannot be managed by England.”
“Aye!” Hercules said, nodding vigorously. “ ’Tis said Ramsay of Balmain fled to him, and now the English king is encouraging him to mischief. He has based himself in a village called Stanton, and from there controls the raiding parties that come over the border to pillage and rape. He is in league with a man, Sir Jasper Keane, a nasty devil.”
Adair grew very pale. “Stanton? You are certain it is Stanton?”
“Aye,” he responded. “The place was deserted, they say, but the cottages still sound and livable.”
Adair felt her anger rising. “How could he?” she fumed. “How could he do such a thing to me? Was it not enough that he took everything I had? Must he nowmake Stanton a means for his perfidy?” Her face was high with color.
“Adair, do not distress yourself,” Conal Bruce begged his wife.
“What is the matter?” Hercules said, confused.
“I was born the Countess of Stanton,” Adair told him.
“When Henry Tudor of Lancaster took England’s throne he took my title and my lands from me, because I would not permit lies to be disseminated about King Richard, who was my uncle. My own half sister sat by his side, now England’s queen, and would not defend me or my rights. I returned to Stanton to find my home destroyed, but my village was left. It was from there I was stolen by Willie Douglas and brought into Scotland.
Some months ago my late husband’s brother came looking for me. The king had restored my lands to me, but I sent Robert back to England with a letter for Henry Tudor renouncing my claim on Stanton, telling him that I was now wed to the laird of Cleit, and content. I asked that he give my lands to my former brother-in-law, Robert Lynbridge. This is the English king’s answer.”
“But why?” the laird asked his wife.
“Why? Because I did not wait for his mercy and largesse, which I am certain had already been trum-peted about his court. I made a new and happy life for myself. And I made it with a Scot! In King Henry’s eyes I am a traitor to England. So he would besmirch Stanton’s good name by making it a refuge for a Scots traitor.” And then Adair burst into tears. “I will never forgive that Welsh usurper,” she sobbed. “Never!”
Conal put a comforting arm about his wife. “There, there, lass, don’t greet,” he said, and he kissed the top of her dark head.
Adair pulled away from him. There was suddenly a hard line to the mouth he so enjoyed kissing. There was fire in her eye. “I will not tolerate what that Welsh king of England has done,” she said. “Does he believe thatbecause I am now in Scotland I cannot strike out at him?”
“Adair,” her husband said, “he is a king. You cannot strike out at a king.”
“And I am the lady of Stanton, or was,” she said. Then Adair looked up at her husband. “I was not responsible for who sired me, Conal, and John Radcliffe knew I was not his blood. But he treated me as if I were. Before I was born he made certain that I would inherit Stanton and its title in my own right. That Edward of York would take care of me should it become necessary. The man I will always remember as my father gave me his name. I am proud of the Radcliffe name, as was my father, which is why any man who wed the lady of Stanton had to eschew his own family and take the Radcliffe name for his own. Radcliffes ruled over Stanton for over six hundred years. The name is an old one. It is an honorable one. I will not allow this Welsh upstart who now sits on England’s throne to besmirch my father’s name. I will strike out at him.”
Hercules Hepburn listened to Adair and nodded with his understanding of her words, but then, he was not wed to the lady; nor was she carrying his bairn. He could understand the worry and the concern he saw on Conal Bruce’s face.
“How can you strike out at a king of England?” the laird asked his wife.
“I will destroy what little is left of Stanton,” she said.
“I will eradicate it from the earth. There will be nothing left but the land. No village, no hall, nothing by which it or the Radcliffes can be identified or shamed.”
“You are having a bairn any day now,” Conal reminded her.
“Our son is more important to me now than ever before,” Adair said. “I will do nothing to endanger him.
That I promise you. But when the autumn comes, Conal Bruce, and a fine border moon rides high above the Cheviots, we will go to Stanton and do what must bedone. I swear it by almighty God, my lord! I will do what needs be done!” Her eyes were blazing now with her determination.
“And the Hepburns will ride with you, madam,” Hercules said admiringly. Then he turned to Conal Bruce.
“With your permission, of course, my lord.”
“Since I am a wise enough man to know I cannot keep my wife from what she must do,” the laird said wryly, “I will welcome the company of the Hepburns of Hailes.” Then he took Adair into his arms again, saying,
“I can only hope that the son you will soon bear me will have your ferocity, my honey love.”
“He will, my lord,” she promised him. “He will!”
Chapter 18
