“This is my mistress, Adair Radcliffe,” the laird said.
“Adair, this is Lord Home, and Patrick Hepburn of Hailes.”
“You have refreshment? Ah, I see that you do,” Adair said. “What brings you to Cleit? We do not often have the pleasure of visitors, my lords.”
“Jesu!” Patrick Hepburn burst out. “No wonder your cousin covets her. Madam, I do not believe I have ever seen so fair a woman as you are.” He caught up her little hand and kissed it.
Adair colored becomingly as she withdrew her hand from his grasp. “My lord, you flatter me, but you must cease, for the laird is a jealous man, are you not, Conal?”
Her eyes were twinkling mischievously.
Patrick Hepburn chuckled and said, “He tells us that you will not wed him.”
“I will wed him when he learns to love me, and admits to it,” Adair said seriously.
“But what if you find yourself with child, madam?”
the Hepburn asked.
“Then it shall be born on the same side of the blanket that I was,” Adair told him.
“I cannot believe a lass as well-spoken and mannerly as you are, madam, was bastard-born. Your very looks belie a common background,” the Hepburn answered.
Adair laughed. “While I was bastard-born, my lord, neither of my parents were common folk. My mother, God assoil her good soul, was Jane Radcliffe, Countess of Stanton, a baron’s daughter.”
“And your sire?” Lord Home inquired, now curious.
There was something about the girl that was vaguely familiar.
“My sire was King Edward, Lord Home. We have not met, but I remember seeing you at his court when I was a child. I remember thinking you very impressive in your black-and-red tartan. After my parents were slain I was raised in the royal nurseries.”
“Of course!” Lord Home exclaimed. “You are the child they called the king’s brat. You do not look at all like your sire, but you have a way of holding yourself, of tilting your head, that is very reminiscent of Edward of York.”
“But how did a lass such as yourself end up here at Cleit?” Lord Home asked.
“Come and sit by the fire with me, my lord, and I will tell you,” Adair replied, seeing his cup refilled, and she did. The Hepburn of Hailes listened to her story as well.
Conal Bruce was surprised that these two border lords, every bit as rough as he was, albeit more powerful, were so interested in Adair’s story. Women were useful, and they could certainly give pleasure, but to sit and listen to them prate was something he had not anticipated of his guests. But they were not only curious about Adair’s tale; they were openly fascinated. The laird wasn’t certain he shouldn’t be jealous.
Finally Adair concluded her history, and she arose. “I must see to the meal, my lords. Please excuse me.” She curtsied to them and hurried from the hall.
For a long few moments no one spoke, and then Lord Home said to Patrick Hepburn, “She can be valuable to us. What luck to find her here. At Cleit, of all places!”
He turned to Conal Bruce. “Your mistress was raised in Edward IV’s court, and her knowledge of the people now there will help us in dealing with the English.”
“My lord, what do you mean? I do not understand you,” Conal Bruce said.
“Adair Radcliffe will know intimate details of the new king and his queen. Details we could not possibly learn except from one of their intimates. This can aid us in our diplomatic efforts with England. We cannot afford a war.”
“I will not let her go,” the laird said. “You cannot take her from me!”
“Nay, nay, man, we only want to talk further with her.
And not this visit,” Lord Home reassured him.
“I thought you did not know what love was?” the Hepburn of Hailes said.
Conal Bruce looked puzzled.
