“You have been a gracious hostess,” Rosamund added. “I am so grateful for the lovely supper you sent me last night. I was so tired. We only arrived home recently. It seems, but for our lovely sojourn, we have been traveling for weeks.”
“I am so glad you broke your journey here,” Jean said. “I did so want to see you again.”
“You are welcome at Friarsgate anytime,” Rosamund told her.
“Oh, once my bairn comes I shall be going nowhere,” Jean said. “And I am certainly in no condition to travel now. One day I shall come and visit you, however, when my bairns, for Logan’s brothers say I must have a houseful, are grown, and not before.” She smiled. “You have daughters, do you not?”
“Three, and a son lost,” Rosamund responded softly.
“Everyone says it is a lad I’m carrying, for I am so big,” Jean said.
“You cannot know until the bairn is born,” Rosamund warned her. “Lassies can appear large, too.”
Jean shook her head. “Nay, this is a lad, for Logan wants a lad. I cannot disappoint him.”
“I am sure there is nothing you could do that would disappoint him,” Rosamund replied. She turned to her lover. “My lord, are we ready to depart?”
“Where are Annie and Dermid?” he queried.
“We’re ready, my lord,” Dermid said. Annie, looking slightly sleepy, was by his side. “Horses are in the courtyard, and everyone’s been fed. My thanks, lady.” He bowed neatly to Jean and then turned to depart the hall with his wife.
“Please let us know when you are safely delivered,” Rosamund told her hostess. “I will have Father Mata pray for you, Jean Hepburn. Tell Logan I am sorry we did not see him before we left. He seemed unwell last night. I hope whatever was bothering him has now left him. Say I asked after him.” She smiled and slipped a hand into the earl’s big one.
“I will.” Jean smiled. “Travel in safety, Lady Rosamund.”
When they were out again in the courtyard of Claven’s Carn and mounted, Patrick leaned over, speaking so only Rosamund might hear him. “You have sharp claws, madame,” he said. “I take it his offense last night was suitably unforgivable that you would torture him so cruelly.”
“He once again declared his love for me,” Rosamund muttered angrily.
The Earl of Glenkirk nodded. “That was indeed unforgivable,” he agreed, “and particularly so as that trusting little wife of his is big with his heir.”
They rode from Claven’s Carn, down the hill, and onto the track that led over the hills into England.
“It bothers me that Jean Hepburn should ever be harmed by believing that her husband is not true to her. She is striving so hard to be a good wife to him.”
“Do you think she loves him?” the earl wondered.
“I know not,” Rosamund answered, shaking her head. “But he owes her his loyalty, and to tell me within the walls of his own house, with his wife in the hall below, that he still loves me—I wish I had slapped him. I was astounded by his words, Patrick! He is what I always believed him to be. A rude and crude borderer.”
“I feel sorry for him,” the earl said, surprising her.
“Why on earth would you feel sorry for him?” Rosamund demanded, her tone aggrieved.
“I feel sorry for him because he truly does love you, Rosamund,” the earl said quietly. “I know you always believed he courted you because he needed, and wanted, an heir. That may be true in part, but the man is also deeply in love with you. The sight of us together last night tortured him. When he returned to the hall he said practically nothing, but he drank himself into a stupor. His brothers had to carry him to bed.”
“I am sorry for that,” Rosamund replied. “But, Patrick, I never said I would wed him. I said no. I always said no. I feel sorry for him, too, but I will not be put in the same position with sweet Jean Hepburn as I was with my own queen. I am not comfortable with guilt, my lord, particularly when those who are responsible for these situations feel no guilt at all. Logan feels sorry for himself. He does not think of his wife. But I do. Henry Tudor felt deprived when I returned to Friarsgate. He did not consider the hurt he would do the queen if she had learned a trusted friend had been in her husband’s bed. But I did.”
“It is unlikely that you will see him again for some time, if ever,” the earl responded. “The very sight of you is painful. I believe he respects his wife, even if he does not love her. And there is his pride to consider, as well.”
“Aye, Logan is a proud man,” Rosamund noted.
They rode for several hours, and suddenly the landscape about them began to grow familiar. She knew the hills about them. Rosamund leaned forward eagerly.
“You sense Friarsgate,” he said to her.
She nodded excitedly. “I do!” she said. “Just one more hill, Patrick, and we will see my lake and my fields. Oh God! I cannot believe I stayed away so long! Yet I should not have been anywhere else but with you, my darling. You love your Glenkirk every bit as much as I love Friarsgate. I look forward to seeing it one day.”
“And you will,” he promised her.
