brought Margery back with us. She is in the kitchens now with Elsbeth, and they are both weeping at being together again,” Conal Bruce told Adair. “Thank God you thought of her. Douglas is remarrying and planned to throw her out. He’s a mean brute. The poor woman was still in the clothes he took her in that day, and they are beyond rags. I gave her my cloak so she might ride without embarrassment.”
Adair’s eyes filled with tears. “I should have thought of her sooner,” she replied.
“She said the same thing,” the laird answered his wife with a grin.
An hour later the two sisters came up from the kitchens. Conal Bruce was pleased to see that Margery had been able to bathe, and was wearing one of Elsbeth’s linen skirts and a clean blouse. She was much thinner than her sister, but the laird suspected that in time, with enough to eat, Margery would regain herself again.
Margery went right to Adair and curtsied. “Thank you, my lady, for rescuing me and reuniting me with Elsbeth. I do not know what would have happened to me if you had not. I had no idea where you both were, and if I had I would not have known how to find you. I am grateful you remembered me.”
“I am ashamed I did not bring you to Cleit sooner,”Adair said.
“Elsbeth has told me of Stanton,” Margery replied.
“Will you remain with us then?” Adair asked her.
“Your sister could use your help, as I have taken Flora from her household duties to be my bairn’s nurse.”
“I will stay, and I am glad for the home you offer me,”
Margery said. Then she looked at the infant at Adair’s breast.
“He’s a big laddie”—she nodded—“and bound to get bigger with his great appetite.”
Adair laughed and brushed the top of her son’s darkhead with an indulgent finger. “Aye, he’ll be a big lad,”she agreed.
The summer passed, slipping into autumn. Cleit Keep stood vigilant on its hilltop. His household was running smoothly, and Adair was up and about again. Conal Bruce began to consider that perhaps her concern over Stanton was now forgotten. But then one evening as they concluded a game of chess before the hall fire she spoke of it.
“Ramsay is still raiding,” Adair said. “We need to rid the border of this scourge, and I need to close the book on Stanton, Conal. We must send to the Hepburns at Hailes, and to Lord Home, and your brother, the laird of Duffdour, so we may decide how best to accomplish this.”
“Why are you so determined?” he wanted to know. “I thought with Robbie’s birth you had decided to put the past behind you.”
“I cannot do that until I have destroyed every vestige of what was once Stanton,” Adair replied quietly. “Have you learned nothing about me but that I am a pleasing bed partner, Conal? I had thought better of you than that.”
The rebuke both stung and annoyed him. “I do not see why you must go gallivanting over the border into England. If you need this thing done then we will do it for you. Why must you go? There could be fighting.
There will be fighting. I cannot put you in that danger, my honey love,” the laird told her.
Adair sighed deeply. “Before I was yourhoney love, Conal, I was Adair Radcliffe, the Countess of Stanton.
And that is why I must be involved. If I were a man you would understand this reasoning.”
He laughed ruefully. “Perhaps it is because I cannot see you as a man,” he said.
Now it was Adair who laughed, and then she grewserious. “My honor is as important as any man’s, Conal.
The Welsh usurper now lording it over England has tar-nished that honor, my family’s honor, Stanton’s honor, by allowing a traitor to find shelter on my lands while he causes havoc and destruction on the other side of the border. Henry Tudor does it more to irritate King James, who has much responsibility in his quest to bring a just peace to Scotland and to make it a prosperous place for all its people. James Stewart cannot be dis-tracted by this border nonsense, yet he cannot ignore it and be called fair. And if Ramsay of Balmain is this eager to get his revenge, then just raiding is not all he has in mind. I will wager he is in contact with other malcontents like himself who have as yet said little, but will strike out at King James given the opportunity.”
“What of our son? You cannot take him with you if you do this thing, but neither can you leave him to starve,” the laird said. “Your place is with Robbie.”
“Do not presume to tell me my place,” Adair said in a tone that bordered on the dangerous. “And if you were so concerned with our son you would know that I brought a wet nurse in from the village over the hill a month ago. Grizel knew of her. A young widow who lost both her child and her man recently.”
“Is it safe to let our son nurse from the teat of a woman who lost a bairn she was nursing?” Conal demanded.
“The bairn was almost two. He strayed from his mam into a meadow, and was trampled by a heifer fleeing a randy bull. When his father ran to rescue the lad the bull caught him up on his horns, and the poor man had his neck broken when he fell back to the ground,”
Adair said icily. “The wet nurse’s milk is healthy, as was her son until this terrible tragedy. The lass was desolate until Grizel thought to bring her to the keep. Our son is thriving at her breast. And my milk is now almost all dried up.”
He was amazed by this news. How could he have notnoticed this change in his household? But he hadn’t. He had come to rely upon Adair’s judgment. The house and the servants were her responsibility. More than ever he was coming to realize that she was a stubborn woman determined to have her own way in certain matters. She was not going to rest, nor would she give him any peace, until she had done what she must. “I will send messengers out tomorrow to the Hepburns, the Homes, and the Armstrongs,” he said. “We’ll need a large force. The king will undoubtedly pay a goodly reward for Ramsay of Balmain,” the laird decided.
