“Prince James will be grateful of your advice, madam.
He is not yet of a mind to wed, being young and filled with the lusty juices of a lad,” Lord Home said.
“Our Jamie is as randy as a ram in spring,” Patrick Hepburn remarked. “And the lassies all flock to him.
He’ll be a grand king one day.”
Then the two men were mounted, and left Cleit with their men at arms, Alpin Bruce among them. The laird noticed his cousin’s eye was blackened, and wondered how he had sustained his injury. He later learned that Alpin had come up behind Grizel as she gathered eggs in the henhouse that morning. Spinning the woman about, he had thrown her into the hay, only then gaining a look at her face. It was all the time Grizel needed.
Jumping to her feet, she had hit Alpin Bruce a blow, and as he howled with the injury she had grabbed up her basket of eggs, and run for the kitchens to tell her companions. And the shock of the brief attempt on her virtue relieved by his yelp, she had laughed at the incident with Elsbeth, Flora, and Jack. Adair laughed too, but the laird was furious.
“The fool cannot keep his cock in his breeks,” he grumbled. And then he too had laughed, for, seen from behind, Grizel appeared a younger woman. He could but imagine his cousin’s surprise when the face suddenly presented to him was that of an older, hook-nosed woman with a pointed chin. Grizel’s appearance was aptto frighten those who did not know her. “I hope you gave him the evil eye, Grizel.” The laird chuckled.
“There was but time to black it, my lord. And I have not run that fast since I was a lass, but I broke not one egg,” Grizel replied, and her companions laughed all the harder.
Midsummer was suddenly upon them, and a small fair was set up in the laird’s village. A small group of tin-kers set themselves up in the midst of it, and families from the keep and the nearby crofts brought their pots to be repaired. One old woman among them told fortunes for a copper. Seeing Adair, she reached out to grasp her hand and peered into it. Her brow furrowed.
“You have known cruel sorrow, and you have been grievously wronged, but you cannot go back,” she wheezed. “Still, you will find happiness if you are wise enough to seize it. To do so you must slough off the past and listen to your heart, for your heart speaks true, my lady countess.”
Adair gasped, surprised at being addressed by her old title. “How do you know . . .” she began, and the old crone held up her hand.
“I see what I see, my lass,” she told Adair. “I do not understand it myself.”
Conal Bruce pressed a copper into the fortune-teller’s hand. Then he held out his own. “And what do you see for me, Gypsy?” he asked her.
The old woman took up his big hand. “I see great happiness for you, my lord, provided you do not spend too much more time considering your problem.” She nodded slowly. “You have already found the answers you seek. You have only to admit to it. That is all I see.”
He laughed and gave her another copper before they moved on. “She speaks in riddles,” he said to Adair, but he had understood exactly what the old woman was saying to him. He had found love with Adair, and he knew it. If only he dared to admit it to her. They stopped at a booth selling ribbons, and he bought her a length ofscarlet silk for her dark hair. “And I promised you a hairbrush, lass. We’ll go and find one now.”
She looked so pretty today in her light wool skirt of red Bruce plaid, which came to her ankles. With it she wore a linen shirt, its laces open at the neckline, for the day was warm. About her waist was a wide leather belt, and on her feet were black slippers.
Adair smiled up at him, surprised. It was the first gift he had given her. “I should like a brush,” she said, “and I thank you for the ribbon.”
They stopped at a booth selling small bits of dough that had been fried in oil and dusted with cinnamon.
Together they devoured a plateful of the delicious confections. As they turned to go from the booth they were confronted by Lord Home, the Hepburn of
Hailes, and a party of men, among them a very tall and handsome young man with bright blue eyes and red hair. Conal Bruce immediately sensed who the young man was, although he had never before seen him or met him.
“My lords,” he said, and bowed, waiting for Lord Home to introduce him.
“Bruce, ’tis good to see you again. We have come to join the games to be held later today.” He drew the young man forward. “My lord, this is the Bruce of Cleit.
And this, Conal Bruce, is Scotland’s hope.” He did not say the handsome young man’s name.
“You honor me, Your Highness,” the laird said, bowing low.
“Alexander Home has told me of his recent visit to your keep, my lord,” the prince said. “I am pleased to meet a man who is loyal to the crown.” The blue eyes twinkled in friendly and amused fashion. The prince was a young man in his mid-teens.
“Your Highness must understand my need to be prudent,” Conal Bruce replied.
“We all have a need to be prudent these days,” the prince responded. Then his eyes turned with interesttoward Adair. “And who, Conal Bruce, is this fair creature?”
Before the laird might speak Adair did. “I am Adair Radcliffe, Your Highness.”
“I am told you are his mistress,” Prince James said, ignoring everyone else around him. His admiring glance was unmistakable as it swept over Adair.
“I am,” Adair said. She recognized his interest.
