Sylvia went to join her sons, quite intent on finishing the conversation with Miriam before she did so. ?Ewan has given up prying into my personal life unless I ask him to do so, and I think that is well for all that I do not.?

It was an end to that and Miriam, with a resigned smile, nodded and turned back to the house for some time to her own interests and needs. Sylvia watched the woman go until she disappeared inside the main manor. Miriam had always been a romantic. Much of Kieran and Sylvia?s secreted time away prior to their marriage had been facilitated by her. A wistful memory painted a generous smile on her face, she felt the brightness of it, particularly when Beata began to push her hands on the plump of her mother?s cheeks.

?Well, my boys, what will we do this afternoon before supper?? She set her daughter down. The little soft feet unbound by shoes, curled dainty toes into the grass. A hobbling few steps cast up a butterfly from its grass perch, and Beata cooed, arms outstretched, fingers grasping at air, towards the pretty, delicate thing.

Cian and Aidan were frowning in thought at each other as if their entire communication could be contained in such looks. Sylvia divided her attention between her exploring daughter and contemplative sons. ?Well, while you are thinking on it, I should let you know we may have another guest with us on our return to Yransea.? That reminded her she needed to write to the captain of the Lark, which was scheduled for that day, to prepare for their transportation.

Cian turned his frown up to her, ?Who??

?Your Uncle Lucky has said he might come.?

?Hurrah!? Both boys jumped and laughed. Beata liked the game and wiggled up and down, clapping with a rhythmless glee. Lucky-puppy snapped up to attention, ears alert and head turning for the source of excitement. ?Professor Jolyon and Uncle Lucky!? Cian danced in triumph, and Sylvia was rather certain he had it in his head of two new playmates for the journey. She wondered how much she should warn Jolyon of that possibility, and then laughed deciding he would most likely prefer the discovery on his own. He was that sort.

?Master Hudson coming, too?? Cian looked up with a greedy sort of grin.

Sylvia gave a shake of her head. A week here and she had not seen him once, but it was to be expected with all his work. If Eva were to not consider the position of accountant, then it was certain before she left once more that she see that matter was done. She could not leave it in such a state. However, at Cian?s gleaming grin, she could only laugh at her son?s expectation of even more company. ?No, I suspect Master Hudson is quite busy.?

Cian huffed, released his disappointment, and then instantly was delighted again thinking of Jolyon and Lucky as travel companions. "I have to practice keeping them safe from the sea monsters!"

"Me, too!" Aidan chirruped and tagged along after his brother now intent on battle with an imaginary creature of the oceans.

Jolyon woke the morning after their arrival hugging one of the pillows, legs sprawled beneath the sheet and thick coverlet. The curtains were drawn over the one slender window of his room and the gap allowed a slice of sunlight to peak through. He rubbed at his eyes and his stubble chin as he sat up.

It was a comfortable room, but of no grand size. Feet met the cool floor as he stood from the embrace of the warmed bed and shuffled to the small table with its basin and pitcher of water. He filled the basin a third of the way and scooped up the water to splash his face awake. The towel was soft and smelled of soap and honeysuckle. He inhaled deep, the towel kept close to his face as he walked to the window and opened the curtain.

The blast of warm sun struck him full on from his eastern perspective, and he flinched away until his eyes adjusted. Soon his smile matched the sun in warmth and brightness. Today was the first day of the High Summer celebrations. From his questioning of Sylvia on the voyage over and the night before at the dinner she hosted for her family and guests, the lone ceremonial requirement to be performed by Cian and Lord Keefe was at noon. Trouble was, he did not know if his pocketwatch was appropriately coordinated with the hours of this new world.

Thinking on that, another new world, he felt the shiver glide up his body like hundreds of little fingers. This was going to be an experience he could write papers about for at least the next several years in comparisons and theoretical conclusions. The prospect was daunting and delightful and gave new vigor to his preparations for the day.

With a quick shave and dress, clothes purchased with guidance from Sylvia so he might more easily blend in, he went from the room and stopped the first servant he saw. ?Excuse me, miss,? he began with a smile.

The girl curtsied, her eyes kept cast beneath his as if she found something interesting at his throat. ?Yes, m?lord??

Even with his understanding of the culture, to be addressed as such took him a moment to react. ?No, no lordship here. Master,? Sylvia had said it was the closest appropriate title for him to use, ?Jolyon Gardiner is my name, and I would be most obliged if you could tell me where I should find Her Excellency??

?Baroness Sylvia is in the gardens, Master Gardiner, breakfasting out of doors.?

?And the hour?? He did not open is pocketwatch yet, knowing it to be a very new type of invention by Yransea standards and not in common use.

?A little after nine, sir.?

The young lady looked desperate to be on her way, her eyes lowered even more and her feet shuffled a step back. ?Thank you,? he smiled and turned away to release her from the obligation of answering all his questions. He would save that for others.

One other was Miriam, the nanny, who found him wandering the halls on the ground floor looking for the exit to the gardens. ?Master Gardiner, you have missed breakfast, but I will have some food sent out to the gardens for you where the rest have gathered this morning before the beginning of celebrations.? With a smile she conducted him out to the warm maze of greenery and the giggling laughter of children intermingled with richer male voices danced among the hedges, trees, and flowers.

Beata had enjoyed her applesauce with a little too much enthusiasm. The garden breakfast was all but annihilated by the group. Covered dishes of porcelain, iron, and glass all had the hinted remains of their contents. Eggs, bacon, toasted breads, jams and jellys, fruits and cheese were all in much reduced portions cast upon the white cloth of the table.

Jolyon had not been the only one late on arrival. Lyana and Keefe had appeared from the direction of the manor some minutes later while Sylvia was cleaning Beata up from her breakfast.

"Master Gardiner," Lyana smiled as she took a seat by him and Keefe upon her other side, "I see Sylvia has guided you well in the attire of our people." She selected some remains of browned ham and delivered two slices to Keefe's plate and the last slice to hers. "Do you find them strange?"

Jolyon swallowed down his bite of toast. He was not oblivious to the lady's station, whether as captain of one of the warbands, the late baron's sister, or the lover of the Lord Protectorate. "Yes, m'lady, I am glad they meet with your approval. They are rather comfortable, actually. I do not feel so restricted across the shoulders."

"Or elsewhere, I should think." Lyana teased with a bold smile while she sliced off a bite of peach and popped it in her mouth and looked pleased when Jolyon's neck flushed with embarrassment.

"Lyana," Sylvia tried to look severe, but it was too much of an effort to not smile as she saw Jolyon blush along his neck. "Jolly, do not mind her. She spends far too much time with the rough spoken fighters."

"Is that me, then?" Keefe chimed in with the teasing, sending a nod of thanks to Hudson who poured him the remains of the morning mead.

"You two, honestly. We have guests here. Three of them, if you might notice. I am beginning to worry they will find this court more suitable to the northern wilds than Seansloe."

"No," Jolly laughed and shook his head, and it seemed Lucky from his distance with the boys discovering insects and birds of the gardens, and Hudson nearby had similar sentiments with their waving off and chuckles. "Better to be included with the jesting than not."

"Hmm," was the entirety of Sylvia's reply to that. She had much more to say in counter, but as it seems the party was inclined to silliness, she would not dissuade them. Cian and Aidan were too delighted with their findings to pay the adults any attention and Beata was exploring the working motions of tugging on the tablecloth to make the nearby dishes move.

Keefe championed Sylvia in his next question, diverting the conversation from anymore innuendo. "Jolyon, may I call you Jolyon?"

"Please do."

"Jolyon, will you be participating in the events or only observing?"

Sylvia noticed an exchange of glances between Lyana and Keefe. It was one of those burdened glances, brief but full of secrets. Beata's wriggle for escape was granted, and she set the little girl down on the soft grasses to do her halting walk over to her brothers and Uncle Lucky, avoiding being whacked in the face by an energetic Lucky-puppy's tail. When Sylvia caught Lyana's eye, she raised one brow in question and was further intrigued when the lady dropped her gaze to the plate of food in front of her.

"Some I should think I will participate, and others I will not. I am rather certain I shall not be joining in the bonfire handfasting rituals," Jolyon chuckled. After a sip of his mead, he turned his question to Sylvia. "Do you think there will be any? You did say it was a rather old tradition."

"Yes, quite an old tradition, not unlike High Summer itself. Though the celebrations have adapted over the centuries, from my understanding, the handfasting has slowly faded away. Fewer hold to the need of a year's trial of marriage. Most of those were done by members of warbands. These days, some more just use it as a time to renew old promises made."

"I know of at least one couple that will be honoring the old tradition." Keefe cleared his throat as if the words had grated on their way out of his throat.

The table went silent and Sylvia caught that exchange between Lyana and Keefe. The words were out before she had time to think them through. "You cannot be serious."

Jolyon took the cue and took his plate and drink with him to go investigate birds and insects with the others.

"Sylvia, it makes sense. While things are so troubling with the rumors of Keefe's intentions, he and I both know joining is impossible. This binds us for a year, no more. We will renew it as we need until the time is right." Lyana splattered the words out like a rain barrel overfull in the depths of a downpour.

The noon ceremony that welcomed High Summer had been a great success. Cian had performed his duties with a solemn face that split into excited smiles when all was done. Races and acrobats, games and contests ? there was more than enough to capture the attention of Sylvia?s boys, much less the visitors who had never seen the festival before. Swirls of color and laughter on green grass were the young women dancing in a complicated round, while the boys their age lurked and watched. Hudson spotted Jolyon once through the crowd, apparently speaking with one of the story-tellers.

Hudson too had found some of the local clothing ? and though it was less comfortable to him than the kilt, it was still easy enough to move in. He roamed through the crowds and laughed to watch the three-legged race. There were no displays of combat arms, no caber-toss or target archery; other than that, he could have been at any of the Mid-Summer fests of his home. His laughter came easily when Cian came running up to grab his scarred hand, and Aidan the other. ?What dae ye be sae excited by, lads??

?The coracle race! It?s going to start in just a little! I bet you can win it. You know boats! You have to enter before it?s too late!? Cian was almost dancing with his eagerness, running ahead and then back to tug on Hudson?s hand again. When the Scotsman looked in the indicated direction ? sure enough, there were rows of coracles set out by the harbor. He laughed and shook his head, with a glance to where Sylvia was examining a stall draped with brilliantly-colored fabrics while Beata tried to lunge for one of the samples.

?Nae, Cian, I dinnae think I?d win. Th? youths will ha?e th? speed tae them, ye see.? Despite his words, Hudson continued on to the flat of sand where the race was being organized. It seemed the race was to be across the harbor and back, inside the breakwater ? and it had been carefully timed for the incoming tide, so that the current would bear the small boats back to shore instead of out to sea. There was a small entry fee since Hudson didn?t come with his own coracle, well within his reach ? at Cian?s continued urging, he paid the man cheerfully enough.

Willow-frame and bull-hide coated with tar, the coracle was light enough to pick up and carry over his head. Hudson did just that when he brought the loaned craft down to the shore?s edge with the other entrants. He wasn?t the oldest man to have entered, after all, though close to it. Most of those gathered waiting by the start line seemed to be in their early twenties, and they had stripped off their shirts to better show off for the watching girls. Hudson smiled to himself at the familiar sight and sat to pull off his shoes and roll up his pants' legs almost to the knee. His shirt came off as well ? he was broader in the shoulders than the donor, and it was too confining across the shoulders to paddle easily. With the scars on his torso, he certainly wasn?t using it as an excuse to show off.

A sprint from the start line to the boats, then the racers had to get the boats into the water and start across the harbor. Hudson stood ready for the call to start the race and black eyes were merry at the sudden memory of a similar recent footrace. His sprint to the boats was still a bit hampered, but he was far from last to the water. Splashing, laughing, salt and the pull of waves until he was seated in the small hide boat and could begin to paddle. This was an event that could have been taken from his own Highlands; here on the water, he shared the waves with the other men and laughed again for the joy of it.

A few of the hide boats leapt ahead to an early start, skimming over the waves. With only a few inches of draft, it was easy to propel the craft, though more difficult to steer them. By half-way across the harbor, those boats which had led now trailed ? too much energy expended too soon. Hudson wasn?t laughing anymore, he was breathing deep and evenly and in time with the strokes of his paddle. No rowboat, the single length of wood only flattened to a narrow length at the end, and it took skill move the craft and keep it on course. He was near the middle of the string of small boats that trailed across the harbor waters like a necklace.

By the middle of the return journey, Hudson was closer to the front. Only three others had moderated their strength and navigated the tricky turn at the midpoint without any incident. Rowboats stationed out for safety picked up those who overturned their coracles. Two of the three others were younger men, driven and determined, and almost parallel to Hudson was an older man, whose hair shone with more silver than Hudson?s own. As they neared the shore, the clamor of the watching crowd grew, echoing over the harbor. Blur of moving shapes and bright colors through the sweat that stung in his eyes, but Hudson was smiling broadly through the final push for the finish line. It was a reverse of the scramble through the sand from the start, though at half-speed with so much energy burnt away by the race.

Pushing, shoving, the four men who had the lead ran and stumbled, laughed and shouted cheerful barbs as they had been throughout the trip over the harbor. At the end of it, Hudson took a running dive to cross the finish line ahead of the young man with bright blonde hair who came in close second. The third to cross the line was the silver-haired man, barely ahead of the second youth. Remaining sprawled on the sand, Hudson rolled over to lie on his back for a moment, laughing breathlessly. He hadn?t thought he had it in him to win a contest like that anymore.