“I am not afraid!” Henry the younger said quickly. “Do you know when this gold will be moved, uncle?”

“They say in three days’ time, nephew, but if I were you, I should go to Lochmaben as soon as possible and wait in hiding so you do not miss its departure.” Edmund turned his horse’s head as he prepared to leave his nephew’s encampment.

“Uncle,” Henry the younger called after him.

Edmund twisted in his saddle. “Yes, nephew?” he asked.

“If you have lied to me, I will come back and kill you,” Henry the younger said.

Edmund laughed harshly. “You are surely your father’s son,” he said, and then he rode off with his escort of clansmen to return to Friarsgate, where he found Tom just returned from his visit to Lord Dacre.

The two men entered the hall of the house, where Rosamund awaited them anxiously. “Well?” she said.

“Your cousin said as I was departing his camp that he would kill me if I lied to him,” Edmund chuckled. “He has taken the bait, niece.”

Rosamund turned to her cousin. “Tom?”

Lord Cambridge nodded. “At first Dacre was not certain that I knew what I was talking about. ‘Dear boy,’ I told him, ‘I have not ridden across half of England for my own amusement. The information I have practically comes from the source.’ Then I went on to tell him he had really been quite naughty continuing his raids in the borders. I happen to know, I said, for haven’t I just returned from court, that the king has told you it must stop! You are endangering all of us who live here. My cousin, Lady Rosamund Bolton, Queen Katherine’s dear, dear friend from their shared childhoods at court, has a large estate, Friarsgate, nearby. Then I lowered my voice and became quite chummy with Dacre. ‘Her daughter has just been chosen to be a maid of honor in two years’ time. If you do not stop, dear boy, you endanger Friarsgate, for the Scots will surely retaliate and come marauding. Now,’ I continued, ‘one of the men who guards Friarsgate has a sister married to a Scot over the border. And he has told her that a large shipment of gold that has been hidden at Lochmaben in an abbey is to be transported across the country to the queen regent for the support of her son, the little king. Now, if you seized that shipment of gold, our king would be very pleased. His sister, the Queen of Scotland, is being most difficult with him right now. If our dear King Henry had her gold, then she would have to be more amenable, wouldn’t she? Of course, if you are fearful of that band of renegades that have been about of late, well, I might understand, dear boy, but would King Henry?’ ”

They laughed, and Rosamund said, “You really are quite wicked, Tom. He listened to you, then?”

“I told him exactly where and when, dear girl, and suggested he would not be amiss leaving sooner than later. Like Edmund, I left behind a man to observe, who will return to us when both of our unsuspecting victims reach Lochmaben, when the battle is over and done with. Lord Dacre and his men are really quite well armed.”

“Henry the younger will fight harder,” Edmund said.

“Perhaps, but he will be overcome,” Tom told them.

“Then we have but to wait for news,” Rosamund responded.

“Where is your brazen Scot, dear girl?” Tom asked her.

“He is not mine, Tom!” Rosamund exclaimed.

“Of course he is,” Lord Cambridge replied with a grin. “Now, where is he?”

“He has gone to Lochmaben,” Rosamund said. “I will not believe that Henry the younger is dead unless I see his body and bury it.”

“God’s wounds, dear girl!” Tom exclaimed. “I am quite relieved not to be your enemy.”

“I do not do it out of vindictiveness, Tom, but I must be certain that Philippa is safe,” Rosamund told him. “And he is my cousin. Our blood. He should be interred here. Like his father, it is all he will ever have of Friarsgate.”

So they waited, and ten days later Logan came riding over the border and down the hill to Friarsgate with his men. Among their number was a riderless horse that carried a body. The body had already begun to stink, but in anticipation that he would not fail her, Rosamund had seen the grave already dug and the shroud ready. The body was put into its burial cloth. Rosamund looked upon Henry the younger’s face. In death he was a pleasant-looking young man who did not seem in the least dangerous. She nodded silently, and then she sewed the top of the shroud closed herself before they buried her young cousin.

“It is over at last,” she said as they all sat together in the hall that evening. “For my whole life I have battled Henry the elder and Henry the younger. Thank God it is finished.” She looked at the three men with her. “Thank you.” she said simply.

“Was it as you planned it?” Maybel demanded, wanting to know all the details.

“Exactly,” Logan said. “I have never in my life known any plan to be so flawless in its execution. Both parties of men arrived unknown to the other. They secreted themselves on opposite sides of the path. They were silent and determined. Your cousin struck first. At his attack the drivers leaped from the wagon and fled into the woods. And then Lord Dacre swooped down on Henry the younger and his men. He thought them Scots, and he was savage in battle. There were no survivors among your cousin’s men.

“Dacre then undid the covering on the wagon and pulled forth one of the bricks. He felt its weight and grinned, delighted. He unwrapped the brick, and seeing what was inside, he swore an oath. Then he began, with all his men, unwrapping the bricks until there wasn’t a one left. He spoke some of the most colorful language that I have ever heard,” Logan said, smiling.

“What happened then?” Maybel asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“He and his men galloped down the path to the abbey. They found it deserted, of course. They came back up the path, and dismounting, examined the wagon most carefully. I was near enough to hear the English milord. He decided that the monks had run away to hide in the woods knowing the wagon was empty of gold, but that the gold must assuredly have been there at one time because of the renegades who attempted to steal it before he attempted to steal it. He came to the conclusion that somewhere between there and Stirling there was a wagonload of gold, and he would attempt to find it before it became too dangerous for him and his men. He had his men unhitch the horses and then rode off with his troop.”

“So you lost two horses. I am sorry,” Rosamund said. “I will replace them.”

“There is no need,” Logan said. “We stole them back that night.”

They all laughed, and then the servants began bringing in the meal. It has been agreed that the laird would spend the night at Friarsgate.

“And you will return my daughters tomorrow?” Rosamund said.

“If you want Banon and Bessie back,” he told her wickedly, “you must come to Claven’s Carn and fetch them, Rosamund Bolton.” The blue-blue eyes were dancing.

Rosamund felt her temper rising. But when she glared down the high board at him, he pursed his lips in a kiss to her. For a moment her head spun at the memory of the last time he had cooled her tantrum. She was, to her family’s surprise, silent, and she could see he knew exactly what she was thinking and was restraining his laughter. I will not let him make me angry, she decided, and then she lifted her goblet to him in a taunting gesture and drank deeply. She heard his chuckle as she set the goblet back down on the high board.

Edmund and Tom played a game of chess before the fire afterwards. Maybel dozed, her feet turned towards the warmth of the hearth. Several dogs sprawled about them, and a single cat lay dozing in Philippa’s lap.

“Am I really safe now, mama?” Philippa asked. “And Friarsgate, too?”

“We are all safe now, poppet,” Rosamund told her daughter. “One day you will inherit Friarsgate, and your descendants after you. With me, the Boltons die. There will be none afterwards to harm you or yours.” She put an arm about her child, and Philippa dropped her head for a moment upon her mother’s shoulder as she had done when she was younger, seeking security and solace.

“I do not think I could ever be as brave as you have been, mama,” Philippa said.

“I wanted you and your sisters to have a happier time in your childhoods than I did,” Rosamund told her daughter. “But you have had your share of sadness, too, my child. I know how hard it was for you to lose your father.”

“But if you married again, mama, we could have another father,” Philippa said.

“We will see,” Rosamund murmured, not noticing her cousin Tom wince.

“When will my sisters come home, mama?” Philippa asked.

“Soon,” Rosamund said. “Now find your bed, my daughter.”

Curtsying to her elders, Philippa left the hall. And soon Maybel and Edmund were gone. And Tom, after pouring himself a goblet of wine, swiftly sought his own chamber.

Rosamund arose from her place on the settle where she had sat with Philippa. “Come, my lord. I am certain you remember the way, but I shall lead you.” She glided from the hall, the laird of Claven’s Carn’s footsteps behind her. Reaching the guest chamber, she opened the door for him, gasping as he drew her inside and shut the door behind them firmly. “My lord!”

He stopped her mouth with a hard kiss. “Tonight, madame,” he told her, “we will begin to get to know each other as we should have years ago but that you kept marrying other men. We are getting too old for these games, Rosamund, my darling.” His arms tightened about her.

“I have not said I would marry you,” she whispered breathlessly.

He took an index finger and ran it from the top of her head down her nose and over her lips and chin in a tender gesture. “I have not asked you to marry me, Rosamund,” he told her softly. “I have just said it is past time we got to know each other, my darling.”