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could have just written a law acknowledging the Romani.”
    Wulf wisely refrained from pointing out the political imbroglio that would have caused and said in a soothing tone, “Father did what he thought best. He married Mother because he loved her and she loved him. He knew he was fortunate in that, and he wishes for all of us to have the same.”
    Tata threw up a hand. “Love, love, love! That is all you and your father talk of! What about duty? Responsibility? What about that?”
    Wulf smiled indulgently as he pushed open one of the shutters, letting light stream into the cottage, illuminating a stream of golden dust motes that danced in the air. “Rest assured that I will marry a strong woman, one who will give me many brave and intelligent sons. Surely that is responsible of me?”
    Tata wished she could smack her son-in-law. What had he been thinking to free his sons to marry commoners?It was ridiculous. And look what it had led to. Here was her favorite grandson, looking for a wife among the heathens that populated this wild and desolate land. “If you will not believe in the purity of bloodlines, then how will you know which woman is right for you?”
    “I’ll know her when I see her.”
    Tata ground her teeth. “Why did we have to come to this godforsaken part of the world to find your bride? Scotland isn’t even civilized.”
    He sent her a humorous glance. “You sound like Papa.”
    “He’s right, for once.” She scowled.
    “Tata, everyone knows me in Europe. But here . . . here I can be unnoticed.” He took her hand and led her to the center of the cottage. “My little house is more spacious than you thought, nyet ?” He could even stand upright, provided he didn’t walk toward the fireplace. There the roof swooped down to meet it and he’d have to bend almost in half to sit before it.
    Still, he looked about with satisfaction. The front room held a broken table and two chairs without legs. A wide plank set upon two barrels had served as a bench before a huge fire, where iron hooks made him imagine fragrant, bubbling stew.
    Tata walked toward the fireplace, coughing as her feet stirred up dust. “Where will you sleep?”
    “Here.” He went to the back of the room, where a tattered curtain hung over a small alcove. A bed frame remained, leather straps crisscrossed to providesupport for a long-gone straw mattress. “I will have a feather mattress brought down from the manor. This frame is well made and I will sleep like a baby.” He placed a hand upon the low bedpost and gave it a shake. The structure barely moved.
    Tata grunted her reluctant approval and looked around. “I suppose it will make a good hunting lodge once this madness of yours is gone.”
    “So it will. I’ll have some of my men begin work on it at once. I need it cleaned, fixed, and well stocked with firewood.”
    She shot him a reluctantly amused glance. “A poor man of no wealth does not have men to help with such things.”
    “I am not playing this part because I wish to, Tata. I am playing it because I must.”
    “Humph.”
    “I will help as I can, but I’ve no experience with thatching. I’d be foolish to try now when the rainy season is about to begin.”
    “At least you are keeping some of your good sense about you.”
    “I’m keeping all of it.” He smiled at her fondly and held out his arm. “Thank you for coming to see my new home. Come, I’ll take you back for tea.”
    She took his arm, wishing he weren’t so blasted charming. It was hard to argue with a grandson who smiled at her as if she were the best grandmother in the world. “Not the English kind of tea. It’s so weak it tastes like hot water.”
    He gave her a look of mock horror. “Of course not! I will get you good tea from our homeland. We brought enough for a year, though we will only be a month or so.”
    Tata paused before she walked out of the doorway. “Do you not think a month is too little time to persuade a woman to marry you?