“I am doing the bodice of the pale green gown more elaborately, madame,” Celestina said. “You will wear it to the duke’s fete along with the gift Patrizio has purchased for you on his way from the palace.”
“You bought me a gift?” Rosamund squealed. “I mean, besides the flowers?—which are lovely, my lord. What are they called? And where is my gift?”
“The blooms are mimosas, and as for your gift, I am not certain I shall give it to you now. You are much too greedy,” he teased her.
“That is your decision, of course, my lord, but I should dislike seeing a lovely piece of jewelry go to waste,” Rosamund murmured.
“How can you be certain it is jewelry?” he asked her, smiling.
“Isn’t it?” she asked mischievously. “Or perhaps you have bought me a villa here and could not carry it with you.”
Celestina chortled. “You have finally met your match, Patrizio, and how glad I am to be here to see it. There! I am done. Maria! Take madame’s gown, and be careful, girl. The fabric is delicate.” She gathered up her tools and put them in her basket. “In just a few more days’ time, madame, you will have a new and beautiful wardrobe to get you through the winter here.” Then, with a curtsy, she departed the earl’s apartments.
“We are remaining the entire winter months?” Rosamund asked Patrick.
He nodded. “It will be easier traveling in late spring or early summer, my love.”
“I had not thought to be away so long,” she replied.
The Earl of Glenkirk put an arm about her. “Your uncle Edmund and your cousin Tom are husbanding Friarsgate for you, Rosamund.”
“ ’Tis my lasses I worry more about, Patrick,” she told him.
“And do you not trust Maybel to watch over them?” he asked.
“Aye, but I do not like it that my daughters are so long without their mother,” she answered him. “Still, Maybel raised me. At least my girls are not being forced into marriages by Uncle Henry, as I was.”
“And have you not said that you never think of yourself, only your duty. I understand because I am the same way; but now, for just this little space of time, you and I are together, away from those responsibilities. I mean for us to enjoy ourselves.”
“But how will you tell the king what he needs to know?” she wondered.
“When the die has been cast, Lord MacDuff will see a message is sent to the king under his diplomatic seal. And you and I will remain here to bask in the sunshine, make love, and drink the wine of San Lorenzo.”
Rosamund sighed. “It sounds wonderful,” she said softly, turning in his arms to face him, raising her head up for a kiss, which he placed upon her ripe lips. “Now,” she said, “where is my present?”
Patrick burst out laughing and reached into his doublet to draw out the flat white leather case. “Here, you vixen,” he said, handing it to her.
Rosamund struggled to maintain restraint. She looked at it, the fingers of one hand running over the soft leather. Finally she snapped the small catch and raised the lid. Her amber eyes grew round. “Oh, Patrick, it is beautiful!” she said, lifting the filigreed gold collar from its velvet nest, setting the box aside. “What are these tiny green gemstones? I have never seen any like them.”
“They are peridots,” he told her. “Their color matches the gown Celestina first showed us. There is a larger stone that can be mounted on a ribbon to be worn in the middle of your forehead. I should like to purchase it, but I wanted to be certain first that you like this.”
“Patrick, you are too good to me,” she told him.
“Has any other man ever given you jewelry?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Aye,” she said, and her lashes brushed her creamy cheek.
“Who?” he demanded, his tone jealous.
“My cousin Tom,” Rosamund laughed, unable to taunt him. “Tom, as you know, is an unusual gentleman. He has a passion for beautiful things and possesses a great deal of lovely jewelry. When we were in London, he gifted me with many lovely pieces, but none as beautiful as this collar, my lord.” Standing on tiptoes Rosamund kissed him. “Thank you, my darling!”
“Then I shall get the ribbon jewel?” he asked her.
“Would I be too greedy if I said yes?” she wondered aloud.
“No,” he told her, smiling down into her eyes. “It will suit you, and every minute of the duke’s fete I shall be jealous of all the men admiring you.”
“Oh, Patrick, you never have to be jealous over me,” Rosamund told him. “I love you as I have never loved any man! I knew nothing of love until that night our eyes met across the Great Hall at Stirling.”
