Friarsgate Inheritance: Until You Part 2

Rosamund sighed deeply. Every touch of his hand, his mouth, offered her the most incredible pleasure. While she had loved Owein, it had never been that way with him. Not like this. Nor her own king, who had taken her briefly for his mistress on her last visit to court. Nay. Henry Tudor was always interested in only one thing: his own gratification. This man, however, Patrick Leslie, Earl of Glenkirk, a man she knew hardly at all, this man opened her eyes in a single night of pa.s.sion to the reality of what love truly was. "I think I will die if you leave me now," she said, voicing her thoughts to him with daring audacity.

He kissed her sweetly, his lips brus.h.i.+ng hers tenderly. "We are not meant to part for now, my love, but one day we will, for your heart is at Friarsgate and mine at Glenkirk. This is how it should be, for we are both loyal to our lands and our people. Once, I think, we may have neglected our responsibilities in favor of our love. We are being given the chance now to right that wrong. Do you understand me, Rosamund?"

"Nay," she replied. "I do not."

"What I believe, my love, is considered a heresy, but nonetheless I believe it. I think that we live other lives, in other times and places. I recall that when I arrived in San Lorenzo I had the most incredible sense that I had been there before. I would find my way to certain locations without the benefit of direction. Throughout my life it has been that way. An old clanswoman on my lands has the lang eey, and she told me I have lived before, as have most souls. I believe her. Tonight, when we first met in this time and this place, we both experienced a sense of familiarity, a strong feeling that we knew each other well. You are not a woman with loose morals, yet here we lie together in our bed, and I am about to make love to you for a second time this night. Do you understand now, Rosamund?"

She nodded. "Aye and yet nay," she told him.

"Can you accept this magic between us, or shall we part and pretend that it never happened?" he asked her.

"How could I possibly deny the wonder of what is between us?" she cried softly. "I cannot! I hear what you tell me, but it seems so impossible. Still, I do lie here in your arms, and I feel as if I never want to leave you, that I shall die if you send me away!"

"I will not send you away, Rosamund. Yet there will come a time, as I have said, when we will both know we must part for the sake of others. But that time is not now. For a while the fates will allow us this idyll, and we will be grateful," he told her.

"Could you not have found me sooner, my lord?" she said with utmost seriousness.

He smiled down on her, his green eyes filled with pure love. Then he kissed her mouth and said, "Be silent, my love, and let me join with you once more."

"Yes!" She said the single word, her own love s.h.i.+ning forth from her amber eyes. Then she opened her arms to him and took him into her embrace.

For a second time they met pa.s.sion. For a second time they cried aloud as it swept over them, rendering them both weak with satisfaction. The length and breadth of him filled her love sheath. The rhythm they created was overpowering in the pleasure it offered. Her body arced against him in her great desire. He forced her down, thrusting and parrying with his lance as he brought them to a perfect heaven once again.

"I die!" she sobbed as her desire grew and grew until it burst in a frenetic rush of his love juices that left them both half-conscious and gasping for breath.

"You are the most incredible woman," he finally managed to say, his dark head resting upon her white bosom.

"And you astonis.h.i.+ng, my dear lord of Glenkirk. You tell me you are past fifty, and yet you make love like a younger man," she said with admiration.

He chuckled. "It is only young men who claim excess virility and work to make the myth a truth. A man of my years knows his limits, although tonight I have surpa.s.sed even myself, my love, but that is due to you, I suspect. You inspire me."

"Take your ease, then, my lord, for soon you must help me find my way back to my own chamber. I have absolutely no idea where I am right now," she told him laughing.

"You are in my arms, where you should be," he said. "I will help you find your way back," he promised, "but first let us regain our strength, Rosamund."

She nodded in agreement and closed her eyes, feeling safer and more content than she had felt in many months. This was what it was like to be really loved, she thought happily. If only the whole world could feel just like this.

They dozed for a short time, wrapped in each other's arms, savoring the warmth of their love. But finally the Earl of Glenkirk rose reluctantly and dressed himself. When he was clothed, he handed her the garments he had discarded upon the stool earlier, ordering her to dress within the comfort of their bed, for the air was bitterly cold. Finally he led her from his little chamber through the darkened corridors of the castle, asking her as they went exactly where her own chamber was. She told him, and to her surprise, they were quickly there. They kissed hungrily, desperately, as if they would never again be together. Then he turned swiftly and hurried off, back into the darkness of the hallway.

Rosamund slipped quietly into her little chamber. Annie was dozing in a chair by the embers of the fire. She started awake as her mistress entered. "I am glad you were not worried," Rosamund said to her.

"Lord Cambridge come to me, my lady. He said you might be very late." She rose from her place, yawning and stretching. Then, peeping through the heavy velvet curtain covering the single window, she said, " 'Tis already false dawn. You had best get into bed, my lady, if you are to have any rest before the ma.s.s."

"Build up the fire," Rosamund ordered her, "and heat some water. I stink of pa.s.sion and cannot enter the queen's presence until I have washed. Neither will I enter my bed until I am fresh."

Annie looked shocked with her mistress' p.r.o.nouncement.

"I have taken the Earl of Glenkirk as a lover, Annie," Rosamund said bluntly. "You will not gossip about it with the other servants even if they ask you. Do you understand me, girl?"

"Aye, my lady," Annie said. "But it ain't right, a respectable lady such as yourself!" she burst out.

"I am widowed, Annie, and were you not my confidante when I was with the king?" Rosamund asked her servingwoman.

"That was different," Annie said. "You was just obeying our king. There was no harm in it as long as good Queen Katherine didn't know or be shamed by it."

"Nay, Annie, 'twas no different than all of my life before it," Rosamund said. "I have always done what I was asked. What was expected of me. Now, however, I shall do what I want. I shall live my life to please myself and no one else! Do you understand?"

"What of the laird of Claven's Carn?" Annie asked. "He ain't going to marry with a lady who lifts her skirts so easily, my lady."

Rosamund slapped her servant. "You presume upon our friends.h.i.+p, Annie," she said. "Do you wish me to send you home to Friarsgate? I shall do it, for there are plenty who would be willing to serve me-and keep their tongues silent. I will tell you what I told Logan Hepburn. I do not wish to marry again! And I will not be forced to it. Friarsgate has an heiress, and two more besides. I will unite my daughters one day in marriages that will bring honor and wealth to our family. Logan Hepburn wants a son. He needs an heir for Claven's Carn. Let him get it upon some sweet young virgin who will adore him and be a good wife to him. I am not that woman. King Henry's mother, she who was my guardian, once told me that a woman must marry first for her family. Twice at the most. But after that, the Venerable Margaret said, a woman should marry where it suited her. Twice my uncle Henry Bolton has made marriages for me. My third husband was the king's choice. Now it is my choice, and I choose no husband! Do you understand me, Annie? I will do as I please now."

Annie rubbed her cheek and sniffled softly. "Yes, my lady," she said.

"Good. Then we are agreed, and you will serve me without question, eh?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Go about your duties, then," Rosamund instructed her servant, and she sat down upon the bed while Annie built the fire back up and began to heat the water for her ablutions.

What a night it had been! She had been at court only a short time, yet now, as the day of Christ's Eve dawned, she was filled with a joy such as she had never known. She knew not where this was all leading, but she realized, to her surprise, that she had no fears in the matter. She was truly, deeply in love for the first time in all of her twenty-two years. She would follow where the road led, and when it ended . . . well, she would worry about that when it happened. For now she meant to live for the moment, and the moment was Patrick Leslie, Earl of Glenkirk.

Chapter 2.

King James looked closely at his old friend the Earl of Glenkirk. "By the rood, Patrick, if I did not know better I would say you were in love!" he exclaimed.

Patrick smiled. "Why do you think it impossible for me to be in love, Jamie?" he inquired of the king. "Am I not a man like any other?"

"A man, aye, but like any other? Nay, Patrick, you are not. You were my amba.s.sador to San Lorenzo. It was an important a.s.signment for an unimportant Highland laird. I created you an earl to honor San Lorenzo's duke. And you served me well until the tragedy of your daughter, Janet. Then, without even waiting for my permission, you packed up your family and returned home. You stopped at court only long enough to give me your report, and then you disappeared into your Highland eyrie for the next eighteen years. You would still be there had I not called you back to me. I do not know of any other man so loyal to my crown who would do that, Patrick. You were ever my friend, even from the very beginning, unlike some whom I must smile at, praise, and bestow honors upon. You do not dissemble. Your word is your bond. I can trust you."

"So you said when you asked me to go to San Lorenzo," the earl replied dryly. "And suddenly you have called me back to your side, Jamie. Why?"

"First you must tell me who the lady is, Patrick," the king teased his old friend.

The earl smiled. "A gentleman does not gossip like a cotter's wife," he said. "I know you possess a good soul of patience, Jamie. I will tell you in time, but not now."

The king grinned. "Ahh, then it is love," he chortled. "I shall be watching you, my lord of Glenkirk." Then he grew serious again. "Patrick, I need you to return to San Lorenzo for me."

"You have a competent amba.s.sador there," the earl responded.

"Aye, Ian McDuff is indeed competent, but he is not the diplomat that you were, Patrick. And I very much need a diplomat. You know that the pope is forming what he refers to as the Holy League. He wishes the French out of the northern Italian states, and he cannot do it himself. So he is declaring a righteous war against them, inviting others to join in his cause with promise of eternal salvation, among other rewards. My bombastic young brother-in-law, Henry of England, is his loudest supporter. I am invited to join them, but I cannot. Will not. This aggression is wrong, Patrick!"

"And the French are our auld alliance. You are an honorable man, Jamie, and I know that you would not turn upon a friend without good reason. And there is no good reason, is there?"

"Only Henry Tudor's intense desire to please the pope in order to gain more power than England now has," James Stewart replied. "Spain, of course, joins the pope and England. Venice and the Holy Roman Empire have joined, as well, but before it goes any farther, I would make an attempt to stop them. I must do it in secret and in a place no one would suspect if they knew of my plans. I do not want the most powerful of the Christian states fighting with one another when we should be mounting a crusade against the Turks in Constantinople. And, too, my brother-in-law knows that, unlike him, I am an honorable man. I will not betray an ally even for my own advantage, as he would. He knows I cannot join this league against the French. He seeks to turn the Holy Father against me-against Scotland. You must meet with Venice's and the emperor's representatives in San Lorenzo, Patrick. You must convince them that this league is but England's plan to achieve a dominant hold over us all. There are parties within each of these countries who understand this. I am in contact with them, and they will arrange for delegates from their governments to be in San Lorenzo to hear you out. Instinct tells me it is unlikely we can succeed, but we must try, Patrick."

"There will be war with England sooner than later," the earl sighed.

"I know," the king replied. "My lang eey tells me so, yet I must do what I know is right in this matter. I do it for Scotland, Patrick."

"Aye, and we have never had a better king then you, Jamie, the fourth of the Stewarts. But you should not have wed with England. You should have married Margaret Drummond. The Drummonds had given Scotland two queens, and good queens they were." He sighed. "I mean no disrespect to your wee wife, Jamie."

"I know," the king answered, "and you are right. I knew I should not wed with England, and I avoided it as long as I could. But when my beloved Margaret and her sisters were poisoned, I had no more excuses. Many desired the match with the Tudor princess, and they believed that it would bring peace between our two nations. The peace has been a fragile one at best. But since my father-in-law's death and the ascension of his son, I fear for us all. My wife's brother is a determined man, and the wealth built up so carefully by his father makes him a powerful one, as well."

"But Scotland is more prosperous and peaceful under your rule, Jamie, than it has been in centuries," the earl noted. "It is obvious that we desire nothing more than peace in order to continue on as we have."

"Aye, but Henry Tudor is an ambitious man, I fear," the king replied. "He is jealous of the fact that I have been on good terms with the Holy See. He attempts to destroy that trust by his enthusiasm for the pope's war, and he will succeed, I fear. You have heard about the matter of my wife's jewels, have you not?"

The earl shook his head, puzzled. "Nay, I have not."

"Of course," the king said. "You are only just back at court. My wife's grandmother, the Venerable Margaret, and her mother, the late Elizabeth of York, left their jewelry in three equal parts: to my Meg, to her sister, Mary, and to her brother's good Queen Katherine. But the King of England refuses to send his elder sister her portion, making all sorts of excuses as to why he will not. Finally my wife wrote to her brother that she didn't need the jewelry as much as she desired these mementos of her mother and grandmother, for I, her husband, would gift her with double their value. I can but imagine the sting that gave arrogant King Hal. Meg tells me he used to cheat at their nursery games, and whined and raged if he did not win. These are traits he has obviously carried with him into his manhood."

"When do you want me to leave?" the earl asked.

"Not until after the Twelve Days of Christmas are over and done with," the king answered. "I want it to appear as if I have just lured you back to court for the Christmas season for old time's sake. And you came because it had been many years since you had paid your respects to me. The fact that you have involved yourself with a lady is all to the good. After the holidays have ended, you will disappear, and all will a.s.sume you have returned to Glenkirk. You know that there are spies here at my court, Patrick, and should they know my plans they would report back to England or Spain or even the pope himself. Your mission must be secret. I realize there is little chance of its success, but I do not want the waters muddied before I have at least attempted to stop this madness. Three years ago the Holy See formed an alliance with France to humble Venice. Now France is the enemy. I despair, Patrick, of this chess game my fellow monarchs play. And no one ever really wins! These politicians will be the ruin of the world."

"So, what you actually desire of me is to convince some of the players of the foolishness of this matter," the earl said. "Which ones, Jamie? Which are the weak links?"

"Venice, who is suspicious of everyone, and possibly the Holy Roman Empire, who never quite trusts Spain. Spain will side with the pope no matter, especially as the English queen is Spanish born and bred. If I can but weaken the league, the pressure will be off of me to join it and betray the auld alliance we honor with France. And learning of this new coalition, the Turks are bound to make some hostile move that should turn the pope's attention in other directions. After all, he is the father of the Christian church." The king chuckled wickedly.

"So, Venice's and the emperor's representatives will be in San Lorenzo?" the earl said.

The king nodded.

"Well," Patrick said, "my son, Adam, is a grown man and can manage our lands without me for a short time. And while I do not imagine my trip across a winter's sea will be a pleasant one, January and February in San Lorenzo, as I recall it, are most benign. It has been a long time since I have enjoyed a mild winter."

"And you will not regret leaving your lady?" the king queried.

"Leave her? Nay, Jamie, I shall not leave her. I intend to take her with me to San Lorenzo. You are correct when you say I am a man in love. I am. I adored my daughter's mother. I married my son's mother, a sweet and gentle girl whom I came to care for most deeply, because I needed a legitimate son and heir. Her sudden death broke my heart. It was not fair that Agnes die as Janet's mother had. She was so d.a.m.ned good, even making me promise to legitimatize Janet when our son was born. But I have never, never until this moment in time, been truly and deeply in love. I am a man long grown. I have grandchildren. But nonetheless I am in love. I feel like a young man again, Jamie."

"Will her absence from this court be noted?" the king asked his friend.

The Earl of Glenkirk considered a long moment, and then he said, "Mayhap. She is the queen's friend."

"Does she have a husband we should be concerned about?" the king wondered aloud. "Is her family an important one?"

"She is widowed and of unimportant lineage," the earl said. "It will be said that she has returned to her own home."

"Unless," the king responded, suddenly knowing of whom the Earl of Glenkirk spoke, "my wife wants her here for the birth of our child in the spring."

"You know? That d.a.m.ned lang eey of yours, Jamie," the earl said with a small smile. "Or are you merely guessing?"

"You have fallen in love with the little lady of Friarsgate, Patrick, haven't you?" was the king's answer.

The earl nodded. "We met two nights ago," he began.

"But two nights ago?" the king exclaimed, surprised.

"Hear me out, Jamie. It was the oddest experience I have ever had. I saw her across the chamber. Suddenly I had the most overwhelming urge to meet her. Lord Grey managed the introductions through his friend Elsbeth Hume. Our eyes met, and we both knew in that instant that we had known each other in some other time and place and that we were meant to be together for the here and now. I cannot explain it any more plainly than that. There are many who would think me mad, but I know you do not, Jamie Stewart."

"Nay," the king agreed, "for it was the same with Margaret Drummond and me. Rosamund Bolton is lovely, I will concur. But she is English, Patrick. And she was, according to my information, briefly mistress to my brother-in-law."

"Was she?" The earl was intrigued. Rosamund had not told him that, but why would she? "Nonetheless, Jamie, I do not believe the lady is politically involved, whatever her past," he said. "You cannot believe she seeks to curry favor with her king. I do not believe that of her. She need not know why I go to San Lorenzo, just that I would take her there that we might be lovers in peace, far from the prying eyes of your court and our friends. Arcobaleno, the capital, is a most romantic place. I am certain that Rosamund, having never until she entered Scotland been out of England, will find it delightful."

"The affair was most discreet. Neither my wife nor Queen Katherine knew of it," the king said. "Brother Henry had attempted to seduce the lady when she was a young girl at court. He was prevented from doing so, and she was wed to her husband on the king's orders. He obviously sought her out when she returned to court a grieving widow, to correct his previous failure. He does not like losing at games, I am told."

"You are extremely well informed, Jamie," the earl noted admiringly.

"Almost nothing a king does is truly secret," James Stewart replied. "There is always someone, in this case a servant of her cousin Lord Cambridge, with information to sell to the appropriate buyer. I think this fellow thought I might be interested in bedding the lady myself. I have at the moment, however, a perfectly satisfactory mistress in Isabel Stewart, the daughter of my cousin, the Earl of Buchan. And my wife is again with child. I would not distress Meg, as I know that this child she delivers in the spring will be a son, and he will survive-unlike the other wee, frail bairns she has borne me."

"The queen does not really need Rosamund, but I do," the earl said. "I am your most loyal servant, Jamie, and well you know it, but I will not go to San Lorenzo without my la.s.s. I will speak with Rosamund when the time is right, and she will convince the queen that she must return home to her beloved Friarsgate, but that she will return in the spring when the queen has her bairn. A lad, you say? The lang eey again, eh, Jamie?"

"Aye, a lad!" He sighed. "I can but hope I live to see him grown, but I will not."

The earl did not argue, for he did not want to know what the king knew. James Stewart was known for having incredible intuition and sensitivity to supernatural forces. Patrick knew if the king was concerned, then this mission was of great importance. "I'll be an old man, Jamie, before I serve your son," he said comfortingly.

The king laughed, his mood now suddenly lightened. "You've already bedded her!" It was a statement, not a question.

"Within hours of our meeting. Jesu, Jamie! I feel like a man of thirty again when I am with her. G.o.d knows I have had mistresses aplenty in my lifetime, but none of them ever captured my heart as this girl has."

"They say she has a suitor," the king replied.

"Aye, the Earl of Bothwell's cousin, the Hepburn of Claven's Carn. She told me," he chuckled. "He told her he would come on St. Stephen's Day to wed her. I think he will be most surprised not to find her waiting meekly and eagerly for his arrival."

"St. Stephen's? That's today," the king exclaimed, laughing. "What a wench she is, Patrick. Are you certain you would have her?"

"As long as it is meant to be, Jamie," the earl said.

"Ah, then," the king remarked, "you do not believe it is forever. You will not wed her."

"I would wed her if she would have me. But though she will have me as a lover, she will not have me as a husband," the earl explained. "She has no wish to remarry, and I know she would not leave her beloved Friarsgate any more than I would depart Glenkirk forever. But one day I will ask her," he finished with a small smile. "So we may both be satisfied 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 la.s.s 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.