“I did indeed, Tillie,” Rosamund replied.

“Where is your jewelry?” the queen asked Jeannie Logan.

“I have none, madame,” the bride answered.

“Here, take these pearls,” Rosamund said generously, removing a strand from about her neck. “They are a wedding present, Jeannie Logan, from your neighbor, the lady of Friarsgate.” She slipped the long strand about the girl’s neck. “There! They make the gown even lovelier.”

“Oh, Lady Rosamund, I could not!” the girl cried, but she was already fingering the pearls longingly.

“Of course you can,” Rosamund replied. “They are perfect, as are you. Logan Hepburn is a fortunate man. Make certain he knows it, Jeannie.”

“Thank you, my lady! I shall tell him how kind you have been to me,” the girl said ingenuously.

“Yes,” Rosamund agreed, “do tell him, and say I wish you both much happiness, Jeannie. Perhaps you will allow me to entertain you when I return to Friarsgate.” She smiled at the girl.

As they escorted the bride to the royal chapel, Margaret Tudor leaned over and whispered to her old friend, “You do have a bit of the bitch in you, Rosamund. This is another revelation.”

“I have naught against the lass, Meg. It is her arrogant mate my words were for, and I know she will repeat them as I have said them, and they will sting him. This is repayment for what he did on my wedding day to Owein.”

At the chapel door, the Earl of Bothwell was waiting to escort the bride. They left her with him and entered. The queen moved swiftly to the front of the room where her husband awaited her. They would formally witness the vows. Rosamund slipped into her seat next to Patrick. He took her hand immediately in his.

“No regrets, my darling?” he asked softly.

“None,” she told him, smiling.

The bridegroom came forth, and the bride was led to him by the Earl of Bothwell. The priest shook his censer of incense over them while the candles on the altar flickered and the storm outside moaned mournfully. The mass began. Logan’s eye went just once to Rosamund. She was standing next to the Earl of Glenkirk, gazing up at him adoringly. It was as if a hand had reached out and squeezed his heart to half its size. Then he felt the small hand slipping into his, and he looked down into the sweet face of his bride. She gave him a tremulous smile, and unable to help himself, he smiled back at her. Poor lassie. She wasn’t responsible for his heartbreak. Nay! ’Twas that brazen, false bitch boldly standing with her lover! He would put her from his heart and give what was left of it to this sweet lass who was about to become his wife.

The bride spoke her vows in a soft but clear voice. The bridegroom spoke his in a loud, almost defiant voice. The ceremony over, the wedding party adjourned to the Great Hall of Stirling Castle to join the rest of the court in the Twelfth Night celebration. The long holiday was about to come to an end, and the winter was setting in with a vengeance. The entire court drank to the health and long life of the newly wed couple. There was much jesting, and the bride was soon rosy with her blushes.

Patrick took Rosamund aside. “We must depart in two days,” he said in a low voice. “Remember, you can take but a few necessaries, my love.”

“I know. But Annie must pack for me as if I am leaving court for home,” she answered. “I can but hope the weather clears.”

“It may be better if it doesn’t,” Glenkirk told her. “We’re less apt to encounter the English at sea if the weather remains foul. They have no real navy, although the king’s brother-in-law, seeing our Jamie’s success in building ships, is embarking on the same course. You’re sure you would come?”

“Absolutely,” Rosamund told him. “Are you having second thoughts, my lord?”

“Nay! I cannot imagine my life without you now, Rosamund,” he told her.

“One day…” she began.

He stopped her lips with his fingers. “But not now.”

She nodded. “I hope the queen believes me,” she said. “I had best speak with her now, while I can.” She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss upon the lips, then rose from the board where she had been seated with him and other guests. Finding her way to the High Board, Rosamund caught the queen’s eye. Margaret Tudor beckoned her forward, and Rosamund hurried to her side.

“I have just received word, highness, that Philippa, my eldest daughter, is dangerously ill. How the messenger got through in this storm is a miracle, but I must depart for Friarsgate as soon as the storm clears,” Rosamund said.

“One of your own people came?” the queen said. “I would see him and commend him for his diligence.”

“Nay, madame, not one of my people. They are simple folk and would not know how to travel to Edinburgh and then on to Stirling. It was a messenger hired by my uncle Edmund. I didn’t even see him. He asked for me and was directed to Annie. She took the message and came to find me immediately after the mass,” Rosamund said.

“Ah,” the queen said, disappointed. “Must you leave me, Rosamund? I did so want you here for this birth. I have missed you, and we have had such fun these last few weeks.”

“You have had fun teasing me,” Rosamund said with a smile. “I will try to return in time for the prince’s birth, Meg.” She felt guilty lying to her old friend, especially in light of how good Margaret Tudor had always been to her. But the queen could not know the truth about the Earl of Glenkirk’s mission to San Lorenzo, and Rosamund knew she could not allow her lover to leave her at this point.

The queen nodded. “You are a good mother, Rosamund. Go home and tend to your daughter, but please come back when you can.”

“We will speak again before I leave you,” Rosamund responded. Then she curtsied and moved off.

The festivities went on the day long and into the evening. There was food and drink in abundance. There was music and dancing. A troupe of entertainers was allowed into the hall. They had a bear with a polished brass collar on a chain that danced to flute and drum. There were several men who juggled shiny balls and pastries from the tables. There was a blind girl who sang like an angel while accompanying herself on a small harp. And finally there were acrobats who tumbled and leapt across the hall, causing the spectators to ooh and ahh with delight. When the entertainers had departed the hall, it was time to put the bride and groom to bed in the Earl of Bothwell’s comfortable apartments. Rosamund did not join in this rough rite.

“It is as good a time as any for us to make our escape,” Patrick whispered to her with a smile.

Rosamund nodded. “I cannot imagine what poor Logan would think if he found me among the women who prepared his wife for the bridal bed,” she chuckled. “I gave the lass my pearls as a wedding gift, which should prick him enough.”

“Revenge for your own wedding day, my sweet?” Lord Cambridge said as he came to her side. “You are learning how to fight back, my pet. I am proud of you.”

“I have nothing against the lass, Tom,” Rosamund said. “Actually, she is perfect for him. She will obey his every wish and whim. She will dutifully produce children and keep his house in perfect order. And she’ll get little thanks for it, for Logan will believe it is his due. If the pearls pleased her, good! If it distresses him each time she wears them, good!”

“Would you believe that she was once as meek and mild as one of her lambs?” Tom said with a grin to the Earl of Glenkirk.

“I like a woman with a wee bit of spice,” the Earl of Glenkirk responded with a smile.

“Then you have surely found her in Rosamund,” Lord Cambridge chortled.

“I have told the queen I must return to Friarsgate because Philippa is ill,” Rosamund said quietly to her cousin.

“Ah, so our time at this delightful court is finished,” he noted. “It was too short, my pet. We must come back one day. Promise me we shall. If I am to spend my winter watching over your lasses I must have my reward.”

“You shall have it, Tom,” she promised. “If it were not for my girls, I should leave you here to pursue all manner of naughtiness.”

“And there are so many delights for a discreet gentleman to enjoy,” he sighed. “Of course, one must really be quite discreet. There are still those who remember this king’s father and his favorites. The Stewarts do seem to blow this way and that.” Tom Bolton grinned.

Glenkirk laughed. “And you have indeed been discreet, Tom. I have heard no rumors of bad behavior at all. In fact, several of the ladies have remarked that it is a pity a gentleman of your breeding has no wife.”

“What they mean, the wicked creatures,” he laughed, “is a gentleman with my purse, Patrick. But I prefer an unencumbered life, my dears, and Rosamund and her daughters are my heirs. She is my nearest kin. We are like brother and sister.”

“And a better friend I never had, dear Tom,” Rosamund told him. “Patrick and I will now retire, but you are free to enjoy as much of this court as you can until we must go in a few days.” She blew him a kiss as she departed the Great Hall.

In the little bedchamber that was their sanctuary, Rosamund and her lover undressed each other slowly as they prepared for bed. He was teaching her the lesson of patience, although it was not easy for her. Again she silently asked herself how it was possible that she had fallen so deeply, so desperately, in love with this man who less than a month ago was totally unknown to her. She had no answers today any more than she had had answers yesterday or would have them tomorrow. She knew only that she must be with Patrick, in his arms, in his bed, in his heart.

“What would your son think of us?” she asked him as she undid the silk ribbons holding her chemise closed.

“He would think me fortunate to have found love again,” Glenkirk said. “My daughter-in-law, however, would think me mad. She would say things like ‘At your age, my lord!’ and she would purse her narrow lips in disapproval. Anne has a hard heart. Would that Adam had known it before he wed with her, but he is content. He seems to know how to manage her, though she be shrewish.” He pushed the chemise from her shoulders and lifted her naked from the silken pile of material now about her ankles.

“I wonder if we shall ever meet,” she said, unlacing his shirt and pulling it off him. “Does he look like you? Or does he favor his mother?”

“He is tall and is said to have my features, but his eyes are his mother’s. Agnes had the bonniest blue eyes I have ever seen on a woman, and Adam has those eyes. I think that is what first attracted his wife to him.” He drew Rosamund’s naked form against his bare chest. “I love the feel of your nipples on my skin,” he told her.

She grew dizzy with the simple pleasure of his body against hers. “You are nothing like Owein, or even Hugh,” she told him.

“I’m glad,” he answered, and his lips brushed lightly over hers.

Rosamund’s breath was coming in small quick bursts. She could feel the hard length of him against her. “Will you get out of those damned haut-de-chausses?” she said through gritted teeth. Her hand smoothed down along the rigid stretch.

“Tch, Tch, lassie,” he scolded her. “Have you no patience?”

“Not where you are involved, Patrick Leslie,” she told him. “I admit that I am a shameless wench where you are concerned.”

“I must teach you better, Rosamund. Passion is best savored and enjoyed slowly. You want to gobble, but I will not allow it.” He loosed his hold on her and pulled off the last of his garments. Then, reaching for her again, he turned her so her back was to him and he might gather her lovely round breasts into his hands to enjoy. He fondled the fleshy globes tenderly all the while rubbing his manhood against her buttocks and between the cleft that separated those twin moons.

Rosamund sighed and relaxed against him. He was right. This was much better than a quick coupling. The teasing anticipation was arousing her to new heights. “Oh, Patrick,” she said softly, “that is so very, very nice, my darling.”

“We have only just begun, my love,” he told her. Then he turned her about to face him and kissed her deeply, his mouth hot and eager.

Their tongues met, caressed, dueled for superiority. They tasted each other, and then he lifted her up and carried her to their bed, laying her gently down and joining her. His big hands brushed over her torso, and she sighed. He turned her over onto her stomach and began massaging her back and her shoulders. His fingers dug into her prettily rounded bottom and then her thighs. He massaged her feet, rubbing any soreness that might have been there from them. “It is better, of course, with lotion or oil,” he explained. “In San Lorenzo they make the most delicious treats for the body, Rosamund, and I intend to introduce you to them all. They are lush and sensuous, and you will love what they do to your body, my love.”