“You really are in love with Patrick Leslie, then?” the queen asked.

“I really am in love with him,” Rosamund replied.

“I hold myself responsible for what has happened to you,” the queen said. “If I had not invited you to visit me, you should never have met Patrick Leslie. Logan Hepburn might have even forced you to the altar, Rosamund! I have saved you once again, as I saved you from my brother all those years ago!”

Rosamund laughed. “It is true, Meg! Though until now I never thought of it that way. If I had not come to see you at this moment in time, I should not have met Patrick Leslie. But believe me when I tell you, Logan Hepburn would have never forced me to the altar. If I ever marry again, it will be for love alone, and the choice will be mine to make and no one else’s.”

“You remember Grandmother’s advice,” the queen chuckled.

“I do indeed, Meg. The Venerable Margaret was a great woman, and I admired her muchly.”

“I wonder what she would think of us today. I think she would approve of your exchanging Logan Hepburn for the Earl of Glenkirk, no matter he is an old man. She always considered a woman advancing her status in life a good thing. Will you marry Lord Leslie?”

“Nay,” Rosamund said quietly. “And before you ask, Meg, or attempt to interfere, let me explain. Patrick has a duty to Glenkirk. I have a duty to Friarsgate. Neither of us will eschew our duty. We both comprehend that, and we are content. This is the way it must be between us. I know you will not understand, but you must not meddle, Meg. Promise me that you will not involve yourself in this matter.”

The queen sighed. “I just want you to be happy,” she said.

“We are happy,” Rosamund told her.

“But one day you will part from each other,” Meg replied.

“I know,” Rosamund said. “That is what makes whatever time we have together all the sweeter, Meg. No one is ever happy constantly. I should rather have these days with the Earl of Glenkirk than with any other man. I should rather know this perfect happiness for even a short span in my life than to never know it at all. What memories we are making together. What dreams of the past we shall cherish when we are no longer with each other in the years to come.”

“You are far braver than I am, Rosamund, and I should have never thought it of you,” the queen said softly. She sighed. “I need the security of a marriage. I need to know that my husband is there for me even if he does stray now and again. You are really alone, and you are not afraid.”

“I think I have been alone my entire life until now,” Rosamund answered.

“But you wrote that Owein loved you,” the queen protested.

“Oh, he did, Meg, and I was so fortunate to have him as my husband. But Owein was raised to a life of service to his betters. He always stood slightly in awe of me as the lady of Friarsgate. He always deferred to me, bless him. Not once did he ever corrupt my authority. And he loved Friarsgate.”

“Did you love him, too?” the queen wondered. “He seemed like the right match for you back then when we were girls at my father’s court.”

“Aye, I learned to loved him, which is why I know what I have with Patrick Leslie is so much more. My love for the lord of Glenkirk is something that comes only rarely, Meg. That is why I will not let it go until I have to let it go.” She smiled. “What a serious conversation we are having, and all because you wanted to tell me that Logan Hepburn is to be wed in a few days. I wish him good fortune.”

“Wish the bride good fortune,” the queen said, and she chuckled. “She is certain to tell him if you do so, and you will have your own back on him for teasing you the day you wed with Owein. I am certain that he still loves you, Rosamund. This marriage is for his family’s sake.”

“All he could talk about was his need for an heir when he was with me. I felt like a prize mare or heifer. Yet when I spoke with him in Lord Bothwell’s apartments he said I should have understood that he loved me even if he didn’t say so,” Rosamund replied. She shook her head.

“How just like a man!” the queen exclaimed, and she laughed.

“Aye,” Rosamund agreed. “How just like a man.” Then she sipped her wine thoughtfully. “I hope he will be happy, for I am so happy myself I can but wish him the same.”

“You always had a good heart,” the queen said. “I am glad to have you with me again, Rosamund. Do you miss your Friarsgate as much as you ever did?” She smiled.

“Not as I did when I was a young girl,” Rosamund answered the queen. “It is my lasses, Meg, that I miss the most. Kate insisted after Owein’s death that I come to their court, and I could not disobey, but it was hard. Philippa, the eldest, knew that I was gone and missed me the most, though Maybel says she is like me, and is a good child. The two little ones, however, did not understand. I was almost a stranger to them when I returned.”

“And then my invitation came,” Margaret Tudor said.

“I might have refused you, Meg, but we were such good friends I could not. Besides, it is not as long a journey as going down into England,” Rosamund replied with a small smile.

“And my invitation was a convenient excuse to escape the laird of Claven’s Carn,” the queen said, laughing mischievously.

“Aye, it was,” Rosamund agreed, grinning. “The priest at Friarsgate is his kinsman, but he would not have forced the issue if I said nay. Still in all, it would have been difficult. Here at Stirling, Logan is overruled in his intentions by the Earl of Bothwell. I do not think Patrick Hepburn was pleased with the idea his cousin might marry an Englishwoman. When I told him he need not fear I would wed his cousin, I asked if he had a lass for Logan. He told me one or two, the devil, when all along he had the little Mistress Jean in mind.”

“He’s a clever man, this particular Hepburn,” Margaret Tudor noted. “He supported my husband even before the breach with the late king. Jamie never forgets those who are loyal to him. He was simply the Hepburn of Hailes until Jamie created him the first Hepburn Earl of Bothwell. He has risen high in the hierarchy of this kingdom, and he brings his family along with him, as is right and proper. My husband has a good friend in him. If he had asked Jamie for you for Logan Hepburn, Rosamund, you would have been wedded and bedded whether you would or nay.”

“But I am English!” Rosamund cried, shocked.

“That would have made no matter,” the queen told her. “If the Earl of Bothwell had desired it, it would have been so. Had you not fallen so publicly and passionately in love, Rosamund, you would not have escaped Logan Hepburn here at Stirling. Indeed, you would have been shoved directly into his arms.” She laughed softly. “But fate did indeed intervene to save you. I have never particularly believed in fate, but perhaps in light of all that has happened to you, I will now.”

Rosamund had gone pale, but now she laughed weakly. “Mayhap I, too, will believe in fate, as well, from now on, Meg.”

There was a discreet knock upon the door of the queen’s privy chamber.

“Come in,” the queen called, and the door opened to reveal one of the queen’s chamber women. “Yes, Jane, what is it?” Margaret Tudor asked.

“Little Mistress Logan would speak with you, madame. She says she will not take a great deal of your time,” Jane said.

Margaret Tudor’s blue eyes twinkled wickedly as she looked to Rosamund. “Tell Mistress Logan that she may come in, Jane,” she replied.

The chamber woman stepped aside, and Jean Logan entered the room. She curtsied deeply to the queen, but her eyes were surprised to see the queen’s companion.

“Madame, I have come to tell you that the king has given his permission for my marriage to Logan Hepburn, the laird of Claven’s Carn, to be celebrated on Twelfth Night Day. I hope that we may also have your highness’ permission and blessing.” Jeannie Logan stood before Margaret Tudor, her head modestly lowered, her hands folded neatly.

“This is sudden, child, isn’t it?” the queen said. “Tell me how this has all come about so quickly. I hope that you have not been forced to any imprudent decision.”

“Oh, nay, madame! I am more than content to marry the laird. I was to enter the convent, where I had been schooled, but Uncle Patrick… the Earl of Bothwell, madame… was seeking a good wife for his kinsman and asked my father for me. While I venerate our dear Lord and his Blessed Mother, I have no calling to the church. But my dower portion is not large, and none had asked for me. My father thought in that light that perhaps the convent was the place for me. When my father said my dower was slight, Uncle Patrick added a purse to it. At first my father protested, but Uncle Patrick said since I was his god-daughter and he had scarce seen me in the last few years, it seemed only right that he do it. Then he told my father what a fine man his kinsman was and how he had put his family and their welfare ahead of his own needs, but now he was ready to wed. My father could not refuse under such circumstances. Then Uncle Patrick told my father that his kinsman’s mother had been a member of the Clan Logan, but we are not closely related or within the forbidden bonds of consanguinity, and so the church has given us a dispensation to marry.”

“You already have the dispensation, my child?” the queen purred solicitously.

“Oh, yes! Uncle Patrick said his kinsman was eager to wed and so the sooner the better,” Jeannie Logan confided ingenuously.

“How fortunate you are to have your uncle Patrick,” the queen murmured. “The Earl of Bothwell has always been known for his kindness. But, my child, how rude of me. This is my friend, Lady Rosamund Bolton of Friarsgate.”

“Oh, I know who she is,” Jeannie said innocently.

“Do you?” Rosamund answered her. “And who am I, Mistress Logan?”