“I know,” she agreed. “I do not know what to do. Do you? Should we follow our instincts? Or should we decide this is some madness, and part from each other? You must decide for us, Patrick, for I am much too afraid to do so, and I have never before been a coward when facing life.”

“Neither have I,” he said. “So despite what common sense would tell us, my fair Rosamund, let us follow our instincts and see where they will lead us.” He kissed her again. “Are you ready for the journey?”

“My family’s motto is Tracez Votre Chemin-Make Your Own Path. If we are to follow our instincts, my lord, then that is exactly what I shall do,” she told him, looking up into his handsome face. He did not look to her as if he had lived a half century, even if there were small lines about his eyes. And looking into those eyes she once again felt an overwhelming sensation of giddy excitement.

“So, dear cousin, this is where you have gotten to,” a familiar voice broke into her thoughts, into the privacy of their new world. “And who, dear Rosamund, is this gentleman who would drag you out into the cold night? God’s foot! I am frozen just seeking you, dear girl.”

She laughed as his voice brought her back to reality. “This, my lord of Glenkirk, is my cousin Thomas Bolton, Lord Cambridge. He escorted me from Friarsgate, and is, he assures me, enjoying himself immensely, having never believed the Scots could be so civilized, he says.”

Patrick knew immediately what Thomas Bolton was, and the irritating jealously he had felt at the arrival of the other man drained away. He smiled and held out his big hand to shake that of Rosamund’s cousin. “I saw her well protected before I brought her out, my lord. The sky above, however, is well worth it.” The earl drew up Rosamund’s hood again in a tender gesture. “We should nonetheless return to the hall. So you find us civilized, do you?” He chuckled.