“Because I love you,” he said.
“You wanted an heir, and any woman would do, my lord,” she replied.
“Aye, I want an heir. ’Tis every man’s right. But that was not why I wanted to wed you, Rosamund Bolton. I love you. Why can you not believe it?”
“Get out of my chamber, Logan Hepburn,” Rosamund said. “They will be wondering in the hall where you are. Ah, here is Annie. Come in, lass, and let us prepare for bed now. Good night, my lord.”
“Do you really love him?” the laird of Claven’s Carn asked.
“Aye, I do,” Rosamund answered him. “As I have never loved any other, or will.”
He turned and departed without another word.
“Lady Jeanne says she will send us supper,” Annie said, wide-eyed.
“How much did you hear?” Rosamund inquired of her servant.
“All of it, my lady. I was outside the door, but I feared to come in,” Annie responded.
“You will forget all that you heard,” Rosamund told her.
“Aye, I will,” Annie agreed. “His lordship says to tell you he will sleep in the hall with Dermid.”
Rosamund nodded.
“Lady Jean is very kind,” Annie noted. “She was most solicitous about my condition, her being in the same way but a few months farther along. Her bairn will come in September, she says.”
“She is a sweet girl,” Rosamund agreed. “We must pray she gives him a son, else he not be satisfied.”
“I hopes it’s a lad I carry,” Annie said.
A maidservant came to light a fire to take the chill off the evening. Another servant girl brought a tray with two bowls of lamb stew, bread, cheese, and ale. A third carried in a basin of warm water for bathing and set it on the edge of the coals in the fireplace to keep warm. The lady of the keep knew how to see her guests were made comfortable. Rosamund and Annie ate their supper with a good appetite. They washed their faces and their hands, then stripped off their gowns and climbed into bed. The bed was fresh and smelled of lavender. They slept soundly until the dawn.
Hearing the early birdsong outside the chamber’s window, Rosamund awoke. She slid from her bed and pulled the chamber pot from beneath it, peeing, then emptying the pot out the window afterwards. The day was warm, with a south wind. And there was something in that air that called to her. Home, she thought. A few hours more, and I am home again at Friarsgate. Patrick is with me, and I will have my family about me. She sighed. I am happy, she thought. She pulled her clothes back on and drew her boots onto her feet. A bath! Tonight she would have a real bath for the first time in weeks.
“Annie.” She gently shook her servant by her shoulder. “Wake up, Annie. We will be leaving soon, and we will be home by afternoon.”
Annie groaned, but she dutifully arose.
“I’m going downstairs into the hall, Annie. Do not be far behind me, lass,” her mistress instructed, and Rosamund hurried from the chamber. In the hall she found Patrick up already, and she ran to him and kissed him. “I missed you last night,” she said softly.
“He did not come down right away,” the earl said softly.
“He would quarrel with me. Did I not warn you?” Rosamund replied.
“He got drunk before his brothers put him to bed, but his lady wife appeared not to be disturbed by any of it. She was too busy chattering with me. She is lonely here, I think. Her sisters-in-law are both flighty lasses with little on their minds but ribbons, laces, and bed sport.”
“Let us go as quickly as possible,” Rosamund said. “It is but a few more hours to Friarsgate. I do not wish to have to face Logan Hepburn again.”
“You will tell me later,” Patrick said. “I think we must at least wait for the lady of the house before we go. Come, sweetheart, and eat some porridge. There is a freshly baked cottage loaf, too.” He led her to the high board, and a servant at once placed a large trencher loaf filled with oat stirabout before them. There was honey and heavy golden cream, which Rosamund added liberally to the hot cereal. They ate, and their goblets were filled with wine. A small round cottage loaf had been set before them, and Rosamund tore pieces from it, dipping the bits in honey and feeding them to her lover. He returned the favor, and soon they were laughing as they licked the drizzles of honey from each other’s mouths.
Then Patrick suddenly grew serious. “It is not just that I want you, Rosamund. I find, to my surprise, that I need you.”
She smiled into his green eyes. “I feel the same way, my love,” she told him.
The mistress of the keep entered the hall. “Oh, you are both already up,” she said. “Have you been fed? Did you sleep well?” She hurried up to the high board, smiling.
“We have been treated very well, my lady Jean,” the earl told her.
