“You would not dare!” she cried.
“Aye, I would,” he drawled.
“We have no business between us, Logan Hepburn. I will bid you good day,” Rosamund told him. Turning her mare about, she rode off down the hill without even looking back.
“You could take her,” his brother Colin said softly.
“And have our cousin Patrick, the Earl of Bothwell, come calling? If the lass is the queen’s friend then I have no choice in this matter,” Logan Hepburn told his two companions.
“How did an unimportant little northern heiress become friends wi King Henry’s daughter?” Colin Hepburn wondered aloud.
“I do not know,” Logan replied, “but I believe her. She is very outspoken. I do not believe she would lie about such a thing, but when I see Patrick Hepburn again, I will ask, you may be sure.”
“So who will you marry now, Logan?” his youngest brother, Ian, asked him. “There’s plenty who would have you,” he chortled.
“Aye, but I don’t want them,” Logan said. “There is the lass I want for my wife, and one day I’ll have her.”
“Claven’s Carn needs an heir,” Colin carefully pointed out.
“You and Ian can have them,” Logan replied.
“I don’t know whether you are a fool or—worse—a romantic,” Colin said. “Perhaps both, brother.”
Logan Hepburn chuckled.
“Will you really go to her wedding to the Welshman?” Ian said.
“Aye, I’ll come, and I’ll bring my pipes. We all will.” Then with a great shout of laughter he turned his stallion from the overlook to Friarsgate and galloped off, his two brothers riding in his wake.
Rosamund heard the laughter as she descended the hill. The very sound of it irritated her greatly. She had never before met such an insolent, irritating man as Logan Hepburn. But at the same time she was rather fascinated by what he had told her. She would ask her uncle Edmund if it was indeed true. It was flattering to think that someone had made an offer for her. She wondered if Hugh had been aware of the Hepburns.Dearest Hugh.He would, she knew, be very happy for her, and he would certainly approve of Owein Meredith. She had now reached the bottom of the hill. She drew up her mare before Owein and Edmund.
“You are flushed, lovey,” Owein noted, curious.
“I have just met the most annoying, aggravating man,” Rosamund said. “Edmund, do you know the Hepburns of Claven’s Carn?”
“Their holding is on the other side of these hills,” Edmund replied slowly. “Which of them was it, and why have they been spying upon us these past weeks? Did they tell you?”
“It was the laird himself,” Rosamund began.
“Old Dugald? I thought him too ill to sit a horse any longer,” Edmund remarked.
“The old laird is obviously dead. ’Twas his eldest son, Logan Hepburn, and from the look of them his two companions were his brothers,” Rosamund told her uncle. “Let us go back to the house, Edmund, and I will tell you both everything, but I must have a cup of wine. I do not know when I have been so vexed.” She walked her mount toward the stables, followed by her two puzzled companions.
“This man has admired her,” Owein noted softly to Edmund.
“He would not dare!” Edmund said quickly. “He has no right!”
“Nonetheless he has,” Owein said with a knowing smile. “I have not lived at a Tudor court for most of my life not to know the signs of a woman complimented, confused, and angry over it. Remember that Rosamund is really quite innocent in the games men play with women.”
“And you, my friend, how do you feel about the possibility that another man would pay your betrothed court?” Edmund asked, curious.
“I love her,” Owein said quietly, “but if another would make her happier than I will, then I should step aside, though it would break my heart, Edmund Bolton. However, our marriage is set for Lammas, and I do not intend giving her up.”
“You would fight for her?” Edmund wondered.
“Aye, I would if necessary,” Owein admitted softly. “She has become my world, Edmund. I cannot help myself.”
“So that is why you defer to her in matters pertaining to Friarsgate?” Edmund said.
