“Madame, please,” Rosamund said, “I am not used to being fussed over in such a manner. I will be fine. Well-meaning though the Hepburns may be, I was quite capable of getting home by morning by myself.”

“You were no more than a mile or two from here,” the laird said as he knelt and pulled her boots off.

Jeannie took the footwear and set it by the fire to dry. “Her feet, Logan,” she repeated, smiling at Rosamund. “Logan will have your poor little feet warm in no time at all. You must be ravenous. I will fetch you a plate myself.” She bustled off.

Her belly was even more evident now than it had been at the end of March, Rosamund thought glumly. Then she started as she felt his big hands enclosing one of her feet. “What are you doing?” she demanded, attempting to free her foot from his grasp.

“Warming your feet as my lady wife has instructed me, madame,” he said in bland tones, but the eyes looking up at her were filled with mischief.

He wanted her to argue with him, Rosamund realized. It would be useless, she knew, and so instead she said, “Very well, but be quick about it, Logan Hepburn. I am indeed frozen. Where is my family?”

“I assume they have eaten and gone to their beds, madame. It is late.” One big hand cupped her small foot while the other rubbed it gently. He couldn’t help but stare down at that foot as it nestled in his palm. It was a dainty foot, the skin soft and smooth. He had the most incredible longing to kiss it, which he forced back.

“I think you are actually beginning to succeed,” she remarked.

“Logan is the best foot warmer!” Jeannie said enthusiastically as she returned with a plate of food for her guest.

Rosamund took the plate and began to eat, but her appetite was not what it had once been. In fact, since she had arrived in Edinburgh to find Patrick so ill she had hardly eaten at all. Food had the tendency now to repel her rather than appeal to her. Still, for Jeannie’s sake she made the attempt.

Finally Jeannie reached over and took the plate from her. “I understand,” she said softly. “At least you got something down.”

Rosamund looked into the young woman’s face, seeing genuine sympathy and kindness. She felt the ever-present tears beginning to well in her eyes. She nodded at her hostess, but said nothing.

“Are her feet nicely warmed now?” Jeannie asked her husband.

“Aye,” he said, standing up again.

“Then fetch Rosamund some wine, Logan,” she commanded, and when he had gone off, she said, “I could see you wanted to cry, but would not before a man. I cannot even begin to imagine the sorrow you are suffering, Rosamund. I am truly sorry for it.”

Again Rosamund nodded, wordless. Then she turned away, gazing into the fire.

When Logan returned a few moments later with the requested goblet of wine, his wife stopped him with a hand, putting a finger to her lips.

“She has fallen asleep,” Jeannie said.

“I’ll carry her to her bed,” he replied.

“Nay,” Jeannie said. “You will wake her if you do, and then she will not sleep at all, Logan. Leave her by the fire. Her cloak is dry now. Cover her with it. She will sleep the night, I think. Let us to bed, husband.”

He nodded. “You go ahead, lass,” he told her. “I must be certain all is locked and barred.”

“Of course,” Jeannie answered him, and she left the hall.

Logan moved through his keep as he did every night before he retired. He checked the outer doors to make certain they were barred. He saw that the lamps were doused, the fires banked. Finally returning to the hall, he sat down opposite Rosamund. Her face was so familiar to him, for it was the face that haunted his dreams. He remembered the child he had first seen at that cattle fair in Drumfie those long years back. He had fallen in love with her then and there. Why was it that fate had conspired to keep them apart? He shook his head. Then, realizing his wife would wonder where he was, he arose and left her sleeping in his hall.


Rosamund was awake when he reentered the hall early the next morning. Awake and arguing with her hired captain-at-arms. “We still have another day’s ride!” he heard her say as he came upon them.

“Yer a madwoman, lady, and I’ll not go another step in yer company,” the captain said implacably. “You have almost killed my men and my horses with yer pace these past two days. Pay us what you owe us, and we will be on our way.”

“ ’Tis but another day’s travel,” Rosamund said. “You cannot expect three women and a single gentleman to travel these last miles without the company of men-at-arms. Today is the most dangerous part of our journey, for we are prey to both the Scots and the English as we go. You were hired to take us to Friarsgate!”

“Not another mile in yer company, lady,” the captain said. “Pay us now.”

“Pay him,” Logan said. “You can trust him no longer, madame. If you force the issue, he will wait until he is out of sight of Claven’s Carn, take his monies forcibly, and leave you stranded. My clansmen and I will escort you the rest of the way.”

For once Rosamund did not argue with Logan. She might have been grief-stricken, but she was no fool. His words made perfect sense to her. Reaching into her gown, she drew forth a leather bag of coins. Opening it, she emptied a third of the coins into her hand, stuffing them into a pocket. Then, drawing the bag shut, she tossed it to the captain. “You were hired to take me to Friarsgate, not Claven’s Carn. I have paid you for the distance you traveled with me. Now, take your men and get out of my sight!”

With a curt nod to the laird, the captain walked quickly from the hall.

“I do not like being indebted to you, Logan Hepburn,” Rosamund said.

“You are not,” he replied. “You are my nearest neighbor for all you are English. I would be a bad neighbor if I did not escort you to Friarsgate under the circumstances.”

“I would not waste the day here,” she said sharply.

“As soon as your party is ready, lady, we will go,” he told her.

“How is your son?” she asked politely.

His craggy face lit up. “He’s a braw wee laddie, he is. They say he is my image, and it may be true, but he has his mother’s disposition.”

Rosamund couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then you are indeed fortunate, Logan Hepburn,” she told him.

Now he laughed. “Meaning?” he teased her.

“I think we need not go into it, my lord,” she answered him.

He nodded. “Aye,” he said, “for you and I will never agree on anything, will we, Rosamund?”

“I cannot predict the future, Logan Hepburn,” she told him wearily. “Once I thought I could, but it has been proved otherwise this spring.”

Tom came into the hall, followed by Maybel, Philippa, and Lucy. “Ah, you are up already,” he greeted her jovially.

“Do not speak to me, you traitor!” she told him. Then she said, “Our men-at-arms have taken their monies and decamped. The captain would not take us farther. The laird has kindly offered to escort us home today.”

“Gracious! Everyone is already up,” Jeannie said, coming into the hall. “I am a poor hostess, I fear.” She bustled about, speaking with her servants, seeing that the morning meal was quickly served.

“The lady of Friarsgate’s escort has run off,” Logan told his wife. “My men and I will be their protection on the final leg of their journey home today. We should be back by dark, lass.” He kissed the top of Jeannie’s head.

“Of course you must accompany Rosamund and her party,” Jeannie said. “It is the most dangerous part of their trek. Take enough men so that the robbers lurking in the hills will be deterred from attacking.” She turned and smiled at Rosamund. “Borderers, I have discovered, be they Scots or English, can be difficult and rash in their actions.”

Rosamund found herself smiling back briefly. “Aye, they can,” she agreed.

The meal was served, and they sat themselves at the hall’s high board. Lucy had gone to the kitchens to be fed, but Maybel was considered an honored guest by virtue of her long service and her marriage to a Bolton. There was hot oat stirabout served with pitchers of heavy golden cream and equally golden sweet honey. Loaves of fresh bread were placed upon the table along with two bowls of hard-boiled eggs, a crock of newly churned sweet butter, and strawberry conserves. Both watered wine and ale were offered.

“Philippa!” her mother cautioned as the young girl signaled a servant to pour some ale into her goblet. “You will drink watered wine or plain water.”

“Mama!” Philippa protested. “I am nine now!”

“You will not have ale at breakfast until you are twelve,” her mother said.

“Your mam certainly never did,” Maybel enforced Rosamund’s ruling.

“Oh, pooh!” Philippa complained, but then she nodded at the servant with the wine pitcher to serve her.

“I remember being her age,” Jeannie said with a small smile. “Nine is neither fish nor fowl. It is a hard age for a girl.”

When the meal was finished Logan announced that he would assemble his men, and they would depart shortly. He hurried from the hall.

They attended to their needs, and then Rosamund thanked their hostess for her kind hospitality. No mention was made of the lady of Friarsgate’s reluctance to shelter at Claven’s Carn the previous evening.

The two women embraced, and then Jeannie said, “Rosamund, I have a favor to ask of you. Will you be this new baby’s godmother?”

“Surely you have someone else who would suit better,” Rosamund protested.

“Nay, I do not. Logan’s sisters-in-law do not like me since I made Logan give his brothers their own cottages. They attempted to undermine my authority in my own hall because they thought I was young and to be taken advantage of, but I was not so innocent that I did not see. So when Logan asked me what I would have as a reward for giving him a son, I told him I would think on it. After their rudeness to you earlier this spring, I told my husband I wanted his brothers and their families in their own homes. He did not protest my request, but in return his brothers and their wives became my son’s godparents. His brothers were satisfied, but their wives were not.”

“But surely your own family-” Rosamund began, but Jeannie stopped her with a wave of her hand.

“My family comes from the far north. I am but a memory to them. Please, Rosamund, say you will be my new baby’s godmother. You are the only friend I have.”

The girl’s words touched her, and with a small smile Rosamund said, “If your husband, the laird, will agree, then I should be honored to be your baby’s godmother, Jeannie Hepburn.” Jesu! Would she never be free of the Hepburns? She kissed Jeannie’s cheek, then turned and left the hall.

In the courtyard the laird, his men, and her party were already mounted, waiting on her. Rosamund climbed into her saddle, moved her animal up next to Logan’s, and nodded. They moved off through the courtyard and down the path to the road below. The day was a sunny one although the blue sky was filled with clouds of all hues, scudding back and forth in the wind. About them, the hills were a May green, and here and there were grazing sheep. They saw parties of men twice on distant hillsides, but their party being larger, the two bands turned away.

Seeing the second group, Rosamund said to the laird, “I thank you, Logan Hepburn, for your escort this day.”

He turned and grinned. “I suspect you would have been a match for any borderer intent on robbing you, lass, but better cautious than sorry.” He moved his horse ahead.

Tom rode up next to her. “Well, cousin, you seem calmer this day than you have been since we departed Edinburgh. I am relieved to see it.”

“You were right,” she told him, “about last night.”

“I know,” he answered her calmly.

She swatted at him affectionately. Then she grew serious once more. “I do not ever remember being so miserable, Tom,” Rosamund told him. “I shall never get over what has happened. I cannot believe it is over and Patrick is gone from my life.”

“He may in time regain his memories of you, cousin,” Tom began, but she waved an impatient hand at him.

“Nay, he will not. Do not ask me how I know, but I do. It is the same way I knew when we first met that we should not be together forever,” Rosamund responded.

“Then what will you do, cousin?” he asked her.

“I will not marry again,” she said. “Friarsgate is my responsibility. I have my daughters. Philippa is half-grown, and I must begin considering families to approach with an eye to making her a match. And you and I have a new enterprise to consider. I shall fill my days.” But not my nights or my heart, she thought silently.

They had departed just as the sun was creeping over the horizon. By late morning Rosamund began recognizing landmarks and knew they were almost home. Finally they topped a hill rise, and there below lay the lake. Her meadows were heavily dotted with sheep and lambs. Her pastures were well tenanted by her cattle. The fields were green with the new growth of grain. They could see the Friarsgate folk going about their workday. Coming down the hill, Rosamund called out greetings to those she saw. A boy ran ahead of them announcing the mistress’ return. Rosamund briefly wondered if they had been told of her unfortunate adventure, but she knew Edmund would not have left her people in the dark lest they ask questions. She smiled at some children waving in the orchards now in bloom. It had been a day like this when she had come home to Friarsgate with Patrick a year ago.