“Remind her of that,” Edmund suggested gently.
“I most certainly will!” Maybel replied indignantly. “She has had him put in the chamber next to hers, and there is a connecting door. What would the children think if they entered her room and found that earl in her bed?”
Edmund chuckled, but Maybel looked outraged. “You will not be content, old woman, until you have had your say. So go and have it now.”
Throwing him an angry look, Maybel hurried off to find Rosamund. Her step was determined as she climbed the stairs. Reaching her mistress’ chamber, she opened the door without knocking. Surprised, Rosamund, who was alone, turned.
“Ah, Maybel, it is so good to be back,” she said, smiling, and then, seeing the look on the older woman’s face, she asked, “What is it? What is troubling you?”
“That man should not be here,” Maybel answered bluntly. “To display your lover to your innocent daughters! To expose them to your lechery is unforgivable. What are you thinking, child? Have you considered your lasses at all?”
Rosamund drew in a long breath and then exhaled. “Sit down,” she invited Maybel, motioning her to the bed. She, however, remained standing. “Do you recall my age now?” she asked the older woman, who shook her head. “I am twenty-three, Maybel. I have outlived three husbands, and I have three daughters. For twenty years I have done what was best for Friarsgate and its people. I will continue to do so. What I will not do, however, is be criticized for taking a bit of happiness for myself. I love you dearly, for you are the mother who raised me after my own perished. But that does not allow you the right to censure me. No one is more aware of my daughters than I am. Neither Patrick nor I will expose them to what you term ‘our lechery.’ We are lovers, yes. We have been since the first night we met and our eyes found each other across the Great Hall at Stirling Castle. I cannot explain it, and neither can he. It is simply the way it is. But to put your mind at ease, he would wed me if I would have him. He knows I prefer not to remarry, and so he does not press me. There can be no bairns of our coupling, for his seed was rendered lifeless years ago by an illness. Now, that should satisfy your curiosity, and I will not discuss it further.”
“Why won’t you wed him?” Maybel demanded, satisfied, but still inquisitive.
“Because I will not leave Friarsgate, and his allegiance is to Glenkirk,” Rosamund explained. “He will return to Scotland this autumn. Perhaps he will come back to Friarsgate again, and perhaps I shall never see him again. Neither of us knows what will happen, but we know we are not meant by the fates to be together always. Now, Maybel, that is an end to it. I shall say no more, and you will be your dear self to Patrick.”
“A woman who doesn’t want to be a wife,” Maybel opined. “I do not understand it at all!”
Rosamund laughed. “I know,” she said. “It will ever be a puzzle to you, dear Maybel. I do apologize for flummoxing you so.”
Maybel stood up. “Well, at least it is settled between us, child. Your earl seems a nice enough fellow. I can see you love him as you have never loved another. I’ll go back to the hall now and see that the supper is ready. Where is that lazy Annie?”
“I have seen she and her husband have a comfortable room. I want her to rest for a few days. She has traveled all the way from San Lorenzo with a bairn in her belly. She is very tired.”
“You spoil the wench,” Maybel grumbled. “After dinner I’ll have your bathwater brought so you may bathe.” Then she departed Rosamund’s chamber, closing the door firmly behind her.
“She loves you very much,” Patrick said, stepping through the door connecting their two chambers.
“You heard it all?” Reaching up, she stroked his handsome face with her fingers.
“I was about to come through when she burst in,” he replied. “She is right, you know. We must not set a bad example before your daughters. They are charming, by the way. I am particularly enamored of your youngest.”
“When we retire to our chambers we will lock both doors to the hallway,” Rosamund said. “There will be no interruptions, my lord. And you will share my bath tonight. I have a delightfully commodious tub for two. Owein always liked bathing with me,” she told him with a mischievous smile.
“He was obviously a man of good taste and discernment,” the earl said.
“Come and lie with me,” Rosamund begged.
“It is almost the supper hour, and it would not do if we did not appear, or worse, appeared flushed and rumpled,” he advised.
“We will just lie together and talk,” she promised him.
They stretched out upon her bed together.
“Your lands are fair,” he told her, “and very different from mine. Glenkirk stands amid the hills, though I have a loch, too. We can grow only what we need to sustain ourselves. Your fields, however, are bounteous enough to feed your vast flocks as well as your people. I look forward to riding out with you tomorrow.”
“We are indeed blessed,” Rosamund agreed. “Why must you leave me, Patrick? Can your son not manage your lands? Are you really needed at Glenkirk?”
“Until King James made me the Earl of Glenkirk, Rosamund, I was the laird of Glenkirk. I still am to my folk. I am their lord and the source of all that is good for them. I will be as long as I live,” Patrick said quietly. “My son will not be accepted until I am dead. He will be respected as my authority in my absence, but he will not be accepted as their master, Rosamund. I know why you do not leave Friarsgate. It is for the same reason. And your girls are too young to manage on their own.”
“I was managing at their age, but it was difficult, and I very much resented my uncle Henry, who coveted Friarsgate for himself. I will not put my daughters in that position. Maybel, Edmund, and my uncle Richard, who is the prior of St. Cuthbert’s, protected me from harm, but it was hard on them, and they are older now.”
“So we are at the same impasse as we have ever been,” he said softly.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I know,” she admitted, “and I hate it!”
He kissed the tears from her face. “We must be grateful for what we have,” he told her quietly.
