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you know it, dearie, but Henry Bolton will never be convinced of that fact even when he is dead. I truly believe he would commit murder in order to possess these lands, if he believed he could get away with it. That is why you must be protected in such a way that he dare not render you any harm. It was different when you were a child. You are no longer a child. You cannot easily be controlled anymore, and when your uncle Henry sees it, you will be in danger.”
    “Will you tell him what you have done?” she asked.
    Hugh Cabot smiled a wickedly mischievous smile. Then he chuckled. “Nay, I shall keep my secret. But when he attempts to gain a hold of your person and your lands, you will have the supreme pleasure of seeing his dismay to discover they have been put out of his greedy hands for good and for all.”
    “But how will my uncle know what you have done?” she questioned him. He was so pale, Rosamund thought. And the tiny blue veins on his eyelids were almost black now.
    “I am owed a favor from a powerful man. I have sent for someone to come from him. He will, even now, be on his way. And, too, Edmund knows what I have planned,” Hugh said mysteriously.
    “Surely you have not contracted another marriage for me,” Rosamund said nervously.
    “ ’Tis not my place to do such a thing,” Hugh exclaimed, “and I should not, Rosamund. You must choose next time.”
    “Oh, Hugh, I wish you would not leave me! I do love you, you know. Not as a woman loves a man. I know naught of such love, but I love you nonetheless. I have not been as happy in my whole life since my parents died than I have been with you,” Rosamund told him.
    “And I love you, my dearie,” he said quietly. “You are the child I never had. Because of you my last years have been happy and comfortable. I know you will bury me with honor, and the place will be marked. It is more than I could have hoped for, Rosamund.”
    “It is so little,” she said, “especially when you have given me so much, my dear husband.” Her slender fingers closed about his gnarled and cold hand, offering her youthful warmth to his chilled frame.
    Hugh closed his eyes again, a small smile upon his lips. “I will see him after the meal. Hopefully with a full belly Henry Bolton will be less choleric. Bring me some broth, my dearie. ’Tis all I can stomach. I will sleep now for a bit.”
    She released the delicate grip she had on his hand, and arose. Then, drawing the coverlet up over his chest, she bent and kissed his brow. “I’ll bring the soup myself, and feed you,” Rosamund said. Then she turned and left the chamber. Aye, he was dying, she reluctantly admitted to herself for the first time. She felt the tears pricking at her eyelids again and blinked them back. Hugh was right. She could not allow her emotions to overcome her practical nature. Not now. She had to keep her wits about her for his sake, for her sake, for all of their sakes.
    Reentering the hall she said to her uncle, “My husband will see you after he has supped. He is very weak. You must not remain with him for too long, sir.”
    “Why can he not see me now?” Henry demanded irritably. “This is outrageous! Hugh Cabot behaves as if he were to the manor born when the truth is I am responsible for putting him in this place. He owes me obedience, and respect, yet he renders me neither.”
    “He is a dying old man, uncle, and if the truth be known, you married him to me in order to protect what you perceive as your interest in my lands. I must remind you that Friarsgate is mine. Not yours. You have never cared what happened to me as long as I could not be used by another. But God has a way of protecting the helpless and the innocent. Hugh Cabot is a good man, not that that ever mattered to you, uncle.”
    “You think him a good man because the old fool allowed you to run wild, niece. Your bold stance and your words tell me he did not beat youenough, if indeed he beat you at all,” Henry Bolton