“How liberal and extreme you are in your thought, my lord,” Adair said dryly.
The Hepburn grinned at her bold words. “Nah, he is not really, madam.”
“Do you flatter me then, my lord, to gain more information from me?” Adair gently teased Lord Home.
“You are too clever for me, madam,” Lord Home said graciously. “You have been of great help to us, Adair Radcliffe. It is a pity your own king was so intent on solidifying his own position that he threw away someone who would have been a loyal friend despite her lack of importance.”
“I did not know Henry Tudor but from a distance until the day I stood before him. All I had heard of him had come from his mother’s mouth, and mothers are wont to speak only good of their offspring. It was my half sister’s betrayal that hurt me. We had been friends from the moment I came to court. We played and learned and shared secrets with each other. We shared a bed. Yet she said naught in my defense. She would not even look me in the eye. Lady Margaret was little better, but then, while I have intelligence I was never her best pupil, and I had no importance or stature any longer,” Adair finished with a small smile.
“Nay, I suspect you were her best pupil,” Lord Home observed. “Perhaps you are not docile and domestic like your half sisters, but you are clever, Adair Radcliffe.”
“Cleverness has done little for me, my lord,” Adair remarked dryly.
Conal Bruce had listened with growing amazement as Adair had spoken with Lord Home. Until this evening the pedigree and background of the woman he called his slave had meant little to him. But here he sat in his own hall while this slip of an English girl had spoken with authority and certainty with one of the most powerful border lords in all of Scotland on matters that were virtually foreign to the laird of Cleit.
Finally Adair arose. “I must apologize, my lords, but Cleit is small, and we can offer you but bed spaces here in the hall. I will be certain they are in readiness for you now. My lord’s brothers have seen to your men, and they will bed down in the stables.”
She curtsied, and went off.
“Do what you must, man, but get the wench to the altar,” Patrick Hepburn said. “You’re a fool if you don’t.
The children she gives you will bring much honor to your family. Now, what am I to do with your cousin, my lord?”
“Does he serve you well?” Conal Bruce asked.
“Well enough,” the Hepburn answered.
“Then keep him in your service, for I do not want him coming again to Cleit,” the laird replied. “We have never gotten on, and he always causes me difficulty.”
Patrick Hepburn nodded. “If we have a war perhaps I can get him killed for you,” he said half seriously.
Lord Home gave a sharp bark of laughter.
“It is good to have friends,” the laird replied with a grin.
Adair returned to say their beds were ready when they chose to retire. “Will you see to the rest, my lord?”
she asked Conal Bruce. “I should like to retire to bed.”
“I will join you shortly,” he replied, dismissing her.
“Good night, then, my lords,” Adair said with a curtsy.
The three men watched as she left the hall. A serving man refilled their dram cups with the laird’s whiskey,and disappeared from the hall. The trio sat watching the fire and talking until finally the laird stood up and, stretching his length, bowed to them.
“I will bid you good night, my lords,” Conal Bruce said, and then he left them to make certain that all the lamps and candles were extinguished. He set the heavy bar across the door to the keep, wondering as he did so how Adair managed it each night. When he returned to the hall to add wood to the fire for the night, both of his guests had found their sleeping spaces, and Lord Home was already snoring loudly. Conal Bruce then made his way upstairs to his own bedchamber, where he found Adair still waiting for him. The shutters on the window were open, allowing in the soft summer air. He could see a moon rising over the hills through it.
“You are not in bed,” he said to her.
“I know how much you like to undress me, so I waited,” Adair told him.
“Aye,” he said as she stood up and turned her back to him. He slipped her gown off her shoulders, and watched as it slid down her slender frame to the floor. Then, reaching about her, he unlaced her chemise, drawing it wide open and pushing it to the floor with the gown.
Adair stepped away from the garments and, bending, picked them up, folding them carefully, placing them in a small trunk. “Now it is my turn,” she said softly. She stood naked before him, unbuttoned the bone buttons on his jerkin, unlaced his linen shirt, and drew both from his big frame. Her fingers tangled themselves in the dark curls on his chest and, bending her head, she kissed each of his nipples in turn. “Sit, and I will take your boots from you,” she told him. Then, taking each of his feet between her legs, she slowly drew off each boot.
She undid his breeks and slid them over his lean hips, her hands sliding down his legs teasingly. His interest was already stirring, but Adair pushed away, saying,
“First you must undo my hair, Conal.” She turned herself about, her buttocks brushing against his groin.
