that I truly love her. That is why she has rejected the Hepburn of Claven’s Carn. She believes his only interest in her is getting a son. I pity the lad. For what can he possibly do to convince her otherwise that he loves her? If he does.”
The king nodded. “You may expect him here at court, Patrick, when he finds the lass gone, I have not a doubt. Hepburns are not noted for giving up easily. And he will have his cousin Bothwell plead his case for him, as well.”
“Rosamund is English, and you cannot order her to wed with this man,” the Earl of Glenkirk said quietly. “Can you?”
“Such will be my defense, but Meg will undoubtedly become involved in the matter. My wee English wife is a romantic, a discovery I find astounding in a Tudor. Rosamund will have to confide in my queen or Meg will not be silent or rest in her quest to gain her dear friend another husband. The queen believes that no woman can be truly happy, or even content, without a lawful mate. In that mood she becomes dangerous, Patrick. Your affair may become public knowledge.”
“Perhaps it will be better if it does,” the earl said thoughtfully. “The better to deter the queen, the Earl of Bothwell, and this Hepburn of Claven’s Carn. But I must consult with Rosamund first. She is not a woman to be surprised in matters that are important to her.”
“Ah, to be in love once again,” the king chuckled. “You are a fortunate man! I have not felt that way since Margaret Drummond.”
“I am,” the Earl of Glenkirk agreed with a smile.
The two men were seated companionably in the king’s privy chamber at Stirling Castle. Settled before a roaring fire, handleless silver drinking vessels containing peat whiskey cupped between their hands, they talked on into the night, while the king was thought to be with his mistress.
“A French vessel will ferry you across the sea to France,” the king said. “From there you will travel by land to San Lorenzo. I would not risk your life at this time of year crossing the Bay of Biscay. With a woman, however, it may take you longer than I had anticipated,” James Stewart considered.
“Rosamund is a country girl, as is her servant. A coach with all its accoutrements would but attract someone’s attention. We will ride. My lass has said she wanted adventure in her life after all those years of doing her duty.” Patrick chuckled. “This will surely be an adventure for her.”
“And her clothing and all the gewgaws so dear to a woman’s heart?” the king wondered aloud.
“We will carry what we need, and I shall have an entire new wardrobe made for her when we arrive,” the earl said.
“I will be interested to see if your lady is so eager for adventure when you tell her that,” the king remarked with a broad grin.
“She will come,” the earl said quietly. “We cannot be parted yet.”
“We will talk again before you leave, Patrick,” the king told Glenkirk. “Go and find your bed, as I am going to find mine.”
The two men arose from their places by the fire, shook hands, and went their separate ways. James Stewart to visit his current mistress, Isabel, and the Earl of Glenkirk to find his Rosamund.
Rosamund had decided that her chamber with its small fireplace was a better space for she and the earl to inhabit. Annie had been banished to the dormitory shared by many of the young servant women. When a tiring woman who usually shared her mistress’ bed appeared in those quarters it was always assumed her mistress had taken a lover. Annie had been warned by her mistress to be discreet, but she kept her ears open for any tidbit of gossip that might be of interest or use to Rosamund.
Rosamund was sleeping when the earl entered her room. He quietly divested himself of his garments, and after climbing into bed, drew her into his arms, kissing the nape of her neck as he did so. She murmured a sound of distinct contentment, and he whispered in her ear, “Are you awake, lovey? I have