The Last Heiress (39 page)

Colin Hay took the soft hand and shook it, for to do otherwise would have been intolerably rude, and he had no quarrel with this fellow. Yet. The handshake surprised him for it was firm and hard. He had not expected such a handshake from such a creature. “My lord,”

he said. The man was obviously nobility. Then his gaze swung to the peacock’s companion, and he relaxed, recognizing the garb and stance of a border laird. He held out his hand again, this time towards his fellow Scot. “Sir.”

Logan Hepburn shook the hand offered him firmly. “My lord. I am Logan Hepburn, the laird of Claven’s Carn. My companion is Thomas Bolton, Lord Cambridge of Otterly. We are kin through my marriage to Tom’s cousin Rosamund Bolton.”

“Of Friarsgate?” Colin Hay grinned. “You’re both welcome to Grayhaven,” he said jovially now that he knew who they were and could place them. Wine!” he shouted to his servants. “Come and sit by the fire, gentlemen,” he invited them.

“Gladly!” Lord Cambridge said. “Your weather is not disposed to be kind to travelers, my dear sir. I thought at least twice I should die of the bitter cold. Were it not of the greatest importance that we see you immediately I should be safe at home cataloging my library.” He sat in a wood chair directly next to the fire.

A servant brought goblets of wine, and when the three men were finally all settled by the hearth, Colin Hay asked, “Why have you made such a journey in the dead of winter, sirs? I agree with Lord Cambridge. It is not a good time of year to travel.”

“Where is your son?” Logan Hepburn asked.

“Which one? I hae three,” the master of Grayhaven said.

“Baen,” Logan Hepburn replied. “Baen MacColl.”

“Baen will be out with his sheep right now,” Colin Hay replied,

“but he’ll be back by dark, when he’s certain his shepherds are safe with their flocks for the night. He fights a losing battle, for the sheep no longer thrive here. They did at first. ’Twas a good idea, but it does not seem to be a successful one now. He is disappointed. Do you wish to sell him more sheep, my lords? You have wasted a trip if that is your purpose, I fear.”

Thomas Bolton chuckled. “There is only one little ewe sheep he must have whether he will or nay. But ’twill be to his advantage, I assure you, sir.”

“Tom!” Logan Hepburn looked decidedly aggrieved. “This is no laughing matter. This is serious business we come upon.”

“What is it then?” Colin Hay demanded to know. “You surely do not need my son’s presence to tell me what you must.”

“It would be better if he were here too,” Lord Cambridge responded, now serious himself. “ ’Twill save the telling of it twice.

Might you send for him? ’Tis a long time until the night falls, sir.”

“Aye, send for him, and let us get this over and done with,” Logan Hepburn said.

“To satisfy my own curiosity if for no other reason,” Colin Hay said, beckoning a serving man to him. “Ride out and fetch my son Baen,” he told the servant. “Tell him I want him in the hall with all possible haste.”

The man bowed and hurried off.

“I don’t suppose you would have a bit of cheese?” Lord Cambridge said. “We have not eaten since dawn, when we dined on some rather dry oatcakes that had been hiding in the bottom of a clansman’s saddlebag. They had the taste of old leather,” he said, shuddering delicately and sipping from his cup.

“ ’Tis almost time for the meal,” the master of Grayhaven replied.

“We eat our main meal at noon in winter, for other than Baen few venture out after that. Have you ridden far?”

“From Claven’s Carn in the west borders,” Logan said.

“And I several days farther from Otterly,” Lord Cambridge said.

“It must be an important matter that you would come at such a time, and so far,” the master of Grayhaven answered. What was this all about? And why did they insist that Baen be with them when they explained? A servant girl with a big belly wouldn’t merit such a visit. And then Colin Hay remembered the lady of Friarsgate, and how every time his son spoke of her—which was rare indeed, for Baen had been almost taciturn since his return from England this time—but each time he would mention this girl his eyes were soft with the memory of her. What was her name? But he could not remember it, if indeed he had ever known it. The peacock appeared to be dozing now. The border laird sat staring into his wine goblet.

They waited.

It was almost an hour later when Baen came into his father’s hall.

“Da! Are you all right?” he asked as he entered, and then he saw Thomas Bolton and Logan Hepburn. He grew pale. “Elizabeth?” he croaked. “Is she well?”

The peacock was immediately on his feet. “Dear, dear boy!” he exclaimed effusively, embracing Baen warmly. “It is delightful to see you, although I should have preferred it be in a warmer clime.”

“Elizabeth, Tom! Is she all right?” Baen repeated.

“She is as well as can be expected,” Lord Cambridge offered with a teasing grin.

“She’s got a big belly, and ’tis your bairn!” Logan Hepburn said without any preamble. “You’ll come back to Friarsgate and make it right!”

“I can’t!” Baen said low, his voice anguished.

“And why not?” Logan demanded angrily.

“You know the duty I owe my father,” Baen began.

“My stepdaughter is no serving wench, damn it!” the laird of Claven’s Carn snapped. “She’s the heiress to Friarsgate, and this child should be the next heir to the estates. You cannot desert her, Baen MacColl! I will not allow it.”

“Nor will I,” the master of Grayhaven said suddenly. “Do you mean to tell me, you mutton-headed fool, that you would leave the girl because of some foolish idea in your head regarding your loyalty towards me?” His open palm made contact with the side of Baen’s head. “Do you love her?”

“We handfasted. Is that not good enough?” Baen asked in pained tones.

His father smacked him again. “Do you love her?” he demanded.

“Aye, but Da—”

“Then you will wed her properly in the church, and give my grandchild a name. You’ll nae sire a bastard as I did, Baen. I love ye. I’ve loved you from the first you turned up at my door and I saw my own face staring back up at me in the person of a frightened yet defiant lad.

But ye’re my bastard, and there is nothing here for you at Grayhaven.

Especially now that the sheep are failing. Why should you not have a wife and bairns of your own? And a home of your own? Ellen wanted it for you, and I do too. You’ll be the lord of a fine manor.”

“Nay, he’ll not,” Logan Hepburn said. “He’ll be the husband of the lady of Friarsgate, and no more. The father of the heir. No more unless she permits it. I’ll not lie to you, Lord Hay. Elizabeth is very angry that Baen left her. She would have raised her bairn alone but that when her mother learned of her condition, she would not have it. But Friarsgate belongs to the lady even after she weds.”

“I understand,” Baen said.

“I dinna,” his father spoke up. “Who controls the land for the lass now?”

“Elizabeth has controlled Friarsgate since her fourteenth birthday,”

Lord Cambridge began. “She is a fine steward of her own lands, as was her mother before her marriage to dear Logan. She has never had any intention of giving control of her lands to a husband. Baen knows this.

Because of his loyalty to you he tried to stay his attraction towards my darling niece. But she would not have it, for Elizabeth is a strong-willed lass, Lord Hay. She wanted your son, and she boldly seduced him.”

“She seduced you?” Lord Hay was at first disbelieving, and then he laughed. “She sounds like a fine hot-tempered wench to me. A man gets strong sons on a lass like that.” Then he grew serious. “If he weds her, what part will he play at Friarsgate?”

“As we have said, he will be the lady’s husband, a respected position, my lord, you will agree. But she will award him as part of the marriage settlement the position of steward of Friarsgate. Until recently her great-uncle held that place, but he is no longer able to do his duty.

The infirmities of old age have finally overtaken him.”

“Why did you leave her?” Lord Hay demanded of his son.

“It was the most difficult thing I have ever done, Da, but my first loyalty must lie with you,” Baen said. “You took me in when my mother died. I was a stranger, but you accepted me readily. You have loved me and treated me equally with Jamie and Gilly. I owe you my life, Da. And I have learned duty and loyalty from you.”

Colin Hay’s green eyes filled with tears. Impatiently he wiped them away with his fist. Then he hit his son a third blow with the same fist.

“You owe me naught, you mutton-headed fool! A man loves his bairns and does the best he can for them. Sending you away to wed with this lass you love is the best I can do for you, Baen. You know there is nothing for you here. Jamie must come first, and then Gilly. I can barely provide for either of them. This is a golden opportunity for you, and you must take it, my son.”

“I will be English then,” Baen said.

“Nay,” Logan Hepburn said in a kindlier tone. “You’ll be a borderer, lad. ’Tis true we raid one another’s cattle and sheep when we can, but a borderer is a borderer no matter what side of that invisible line he calls home. We’re not quite English, nor are we quite Scots. The wind blows from a different direction in the west part of the border.”

“My son will not be abused? He’ll be respected as the lady’s husband? Obeyed as her steward?” the master of Grayhaven wanted to know.

“He is already well respected there, my lord,” the laird of Claven’s Carn replied.

“Pray God then that no war separates us,” the master of Grayhaven said softly. Then he turned to Baen. “I want you to go back to Friarsgate and wed with its mistress. I want you to do for your bairn what I could not do for you, Baen. Give my grandchild its proper name. And if you would truly please me, my son, I would ask that you finally accept my surname as your own.”

“I have always been content being Baen MacColl,” the younger man said to his father with a small smile.

“Be Baen, son of Colin Hay, now. Not some nameless Colin, but Colin Hay,” the master of Grayhaven said quietly.

Baen nodded slowly. “I have always been proud to be your son, Da,”

he told his father. “And I suppose in England, Hay will be a better surname for my children than MacColl. If I can gain Elizabeth’s love once again I promise you there will be more than one child at Friarsgate in this next generation.”

“Then you will go with my blessing, Baen,” Colin Hay told his son.

“And take those damned English sheep of yours with you before I eat them!”

“Da! Those aren’t eating sheep,” Baen protested.

“All sheep are for eating,” the master of Grayhaven said, roaring with laughter.

Colin Hay’s two legitimate sons now entered the hall. They gawked at Lord Cambridge, having never seen anyone in such fine garb in all their lives. He gazed back at them, thinking them handsome young fellows, but then they did look a bit rough.

“Come and meet Lord Cambridge, lads, and the laird of Claven’s Carn.” Colin Hay beckoned his sons forward. “And congratulate your brother, Baen, for he is to be wed.”

James and Gilbert Hay whooped in a combination of delight and surprise.

“It’s that English girl, isn’t it?” James said.

“Aye,” Baen answered him quietly.

His two younger brothers eyed each other knowledgeably, nodding.

But the words on their lips remained unspoken in the presence of their guests.

“As soon as Baen can gather his flock I’m sending him back to England with the sheep for his dower,” the master of Grayhaven said.

James and Gilbert hooted derisively, for they had thought their elder’s preoccupation with his sheep amusing.

“I thank you both for your good wishes,” Baen said to them dryly.

“If you take the sheep,” James said, grinning, “what will we serve the guests at my wedding to Jean Gordon?”

“Let the Gordons worry about that,” Baen replied. “Besides, your wedding isn’t for another few years. The bride has to grow up first,” he mocked his brother. “At least mine is a woman grown.”

“With a bairn in her belly?” Gilbert Hay asked slyly, unable to restrain himself despite the black look his father shot him. But why else would these two gentlemen have come to Grayhaven in the dead of winter, he thought, except the lass was breeding?

But Baen laughed at his youngest brother’s jibe. “Aye,” he acknowledged, “but I handfasted her in the summer, Gilly. Now I’ll return with our father’s blessing to wed my Elizabeth in the church.”

“Will you come back to Grayhaven?” Gilbert Hay asked, suddenly serious.

“Nay,” Baen said. “Elizabeth has her own lands, and I will steward them. I will have no time to return to Grayhaven, for my duties to Friarsgate will fill my days.”

“But we’ll never see you then,” Gilbert said softly.

“You can come and visit me, Gilly,” Baen told him. “Da has you betrothed to Alice Gordon, Jean’s sister, and she is but a wee girl barely out of leading strings. You will have time to travel, and the Hays of Grayhaven will always be welcome at Friarsgate. Is that not so, Tom, Logan?”

“Aye,” the laird of Claven’s Carn agreed. “The Scots are always welcome at Friarsgate, unless, of course, they come in large numbers uninvited.” He chuckled.

The other men laughed.

James Hay stepped forward and embraced his eldest brother. “I wish you well, Baen,” he said enthusiastically. Secretly he was relieved to see his eldest brother well settled and soon to be gone. He had been a very little boy when Baen had arrived in their midst, and their youngest brother not even born. From the time he was old enough to understand their place in their father’s life, James Hay knew he was his father’s heir, though he was his second-born son. But he also knew that Colin Hay loved Baen best of all his sons, though he would never have said it, and he treated his lads with an equal hand.

Their father had always been concerned with finding a place for Baen. Now one had been supplied, and James Hay, while wishing his brother good fortune, would not be sad to see him gone from Grayhaven. Gilly would miss him more, James knew, but then Gilly had always looked up to their oldest brother. Not to Grayhaven’s heir, but to Baen. James Hay loved his brother Baen, but he had always found it disconcerting that even though he was their father’s heir, Baen came first with so many others. He smiled broadly at Baen now, for his elder’s departure was like a great weight being lifted from his shoulders. But he also felt a little ashamed to think it.