Love Wild and Fair (12 page)

Michael Leslie would be marrying Isabella Forbes in less than two years, and taking over her estate. It was therefore up to Adam Leslie to learn the management of Glenkirk in the event that Patrick died before his son, James, reached his majority.

“Spend a year at Glenkirk, and ye can hae a year to travel,” promised Patrick, seeing Fiona’s disappointment.

Cat, meanwhile, had found a house to suit her. Like Leslie House it was on a quiet side street. But her choice was off Canongate, which ran towards the Palace of Holyrood rather than towards High Street. Built of brick, it contained a large and sunny kitchen, a pantry, a washroom, a still room, a storage room, a servant’s hall, a comfortable room off the garden for the cook, and several cubicles for the kitchen help. The main floor held a wide reception hall, a bright formal parlor, a library, a dining room, a family dining room, and family parlor. The second floor was made up almost entirely of one great hall. Off it were several private anterooms. On the third floor were six bedrooms, each with its own dressing room, and indoor sanitary facilities. On the fourth floor was the nursery, and on the fifth, the servants’ quarters.

The property had a flower garden, kitchen garden, and orchard. It also had a fine large stable. When the earl complained of the size of the house, he was reminded of the size of their families. Glenkirk House would serve for all the Leslies when they visited Edinburgh, and would be useful later on when the little king came into his own, and held court. Cat had hired Mrs. Kerr on a permanent basis to run her new house. She wanted to stay in Edinburgh at least till the end of June so she might attend to the ordering of the furnishings. Glenkirk gave her till mid-May.

“Why can’t you and Adam go home alone?” she protested. “Fiona and I will stay in town to finish this business, and then join ye later.”

Patrick laughed. “Madame,” he said looking down at her, “I hae no intention of letting ye out of my sight ever again. Yer an impossible wench to catch up with, my dear. We’ll return to Glenkirk together in mid-May. Ye’ll hae to have yer business finished by then. Besides, what difference does it make if the house is finished now, or not?”

“Because, my lord, I hae no intention of spending the entire winter snowed in at Glenkirk. After Christmas, or before if it be possible, we will return to town for the winter.”

The earl was amused. So she had plans to come to town each winter? He chuckled to himself. What a handful she was going to be. Best to keep her little belly filled with his children. A full nursery would keep her busy.

During the next few weeks Cat spoke with numerous craftsmen and, approving hundreds of sketches, ordered the furnishings. She arranged with Benjamin Kira that the craftsmen be paid, upon Mrs. Kerr’s approval, after delivery had been made. She did not tell Patrick about this. The earl might have forgotten, but Glenkirk House belonged to Cat.

Before they left Edinburgh they were visited by George Leslie, the Earl of Rothes, who was the head of the Leslie clan. Both Patrick and Adam were pleased by the honor done their minor branch of the family. Cat, however, was not impressed.

“We’re richer,” she said. “He has decided to keep on good terms wi us in case he has to borrow money.”

Though the men were shocked at this lack of respect, Fiona laughed. “Ye really are a bitch, Cat, but I happen to agree wi you. Besides, George Leslie is of the new kirk, and his family was implicated in the murder of Cardinal Beaton years ago. I dinna trust him.”

They left Edinburgh for Glenkirk in mid-May. The earl, his countess, Adam, and Fiona all rode. Sally, Lucy, and the baby were comfortably settled in a wagon. A troop of Glenkirk soldiers under Conall More-Leslie escorted the party, for the roads were not safe. Many small merchants, hearing they planned to travel by way of Aberdeen, asked leave to travel with them. The larger the group, the safer everyone was.

They reached Glenkirk two weeks later. Fiona chuckled wickedly at the reception awaiting them. Lined up were the dowager countess Margaret Leslie, Cat’s parents and brothers, Fiona’s parents and brothers, all the Leslies of Glenkirk, and the More-Leslies of Crannog.

“Jesu,” swore Cat under her breath. “They’ve dragged the whole clan out! The only one missing seems to be our uncle, the abbot.”

“No, he’s there. He just stooped to pick up Aunt Meg’s glove.” Fiona sounded as if she were going to laugh.

“Christ’s toenail!”

“It’s nae us, Cat. Tis his next Earlship of Glenkirk they’ve come to welcome,” returned Fiona as the mob descended upon them.

She was right. Poor Jamie was snatched from Sally and passed, howling his outrage, among the delighted relations. Cat angrily retrieved her son, soothed him, and quelled the protest from the group. Ellen called, “I’ll take him, my lady.”

“Ye most certainly will not,” snapped Cat. “Yer far too good a maid, and I have missed ye,” she told the crestfallen woman, who immediately brightened. “Sally,” called Cat. “Take yer wet master.”

She endured the welcoming banquet arranged by Patrick’s mother before being allowed to escape to her apartments. Her mother cornered her long enough to ask whether all was well between her daughter and the earl. Assured that everything was fine, Heather breathed a sigh of relief and returned to her husband. As evening drew in, Cat yawned hugely. Meg Leslie smothered a laugh.

“I think,” she whispered to her daughter-in-law, “that it would be perfectly permissible for ye to end this banquet.”

Cat leaned over to Patrick. “Glenkirk! Must I fall asleep in the jellies before ye’ll end the evening?”

“All right, sweetheart, but I’ll stay awhile. Let us stand up now, and put the others who also wish to retire out of their misery.”

They stood, giving the signal for those who wanted to leave. Cat politely bid her guests good night and hurried to the nursery. Jamie, his eyes bright, lay on his stomach sucking his tiny fist.

“He’s such a good bairn,” said the doting Lucy.

Cat picked up her son and cradled him for a moment. His tiny nose twitched.

“Och,” crowed Sally proudly. “The smart laddie smells the milk!”

Jamie began to cry. Lucy took the baby from Cat while Sally hurried to help her mistress remove her bodice. Cat sat down. Taking her son again, she gave him her breast When the child had sated himself and lay drowsily in her lap, she smiled down on him. “He’s growing so big,” she noted, her voice soft

“Aye, madame,” answered Sally, “and bright he is, too, our little lad.”

Cat lay her son back in the cradle on his stomach and drew the coverlet over him. “When I see him so helpless, so tiny,” she said, “it’s hard to believe he’ll be a great impossible man like his father some day.”

The two nursemaids giggled, and the countess, rising, buttoned her bodice and bid them good night. She hurried to her own apartments, where Ellen had a steaming tub waiting. Stripping her clothes off, Cat climbed in and luxuriated in the warm fragrant water. She, who was used to bathing daily, had not had a bath since leaving Edinburgh two weeks before. “Ellen, tell the earl’s man, Angus, to hae a bath ready for his lordship. I won’t hae him climb stinking into my bed this night.”

And while Ellen was gone, Cat lathered up her hair, rinsed it, lathered it, and rinsed it again. She climbed from the tub and sat naked before the fire while Ellen rubbed her hair dry and then brushed it till it gleamed. Finally, Cat stood and held her hair up while Ellen powered her body.

“Perfection! You are pure perfection!” Her husband stood in the doorway.

“Angus has prepared you a bath, my lord,” she told him.

Lazily his eyes traveled the length of her body. She boldly returned his glance.

“Ye smell like sunshine, love.”

“And you stink of horses and two weeks on the dusty road.”

He laughed. “I’ll nae be long. Good night, Ellen.”

Ellen chuckled. “Which nightgown, my lady?”

“Dinna bother, Ellie. Just gie me a shawl.”

Cat got into the big bed and, sitting up, drew a lacy wool shawl about her shoulders. “Good night, Ellie.”

“Good night, madame.”

Cat sat in her bed listening with amusement to the sounds coming from Patrick’s bedroom. He splashed. He sang off-key. He made noises like a duck, and she laughed. A few minutes later he came naked through the doorway connecting the two rooms, and made straight for the bed. For a moment they just looked at each other. Then he enfolded her in a bear hug, and she snuggled contentedly into his arms.

“Are ye glad to be home, Cat?”

“For now, but I meant it, Patrick, when I said I wanted to spend part of each year in Edinburgh. Soon the little king will come into his own. He’ll marry, and there will be a real court again. I dinna want to be a stranger in Edinburgh when that happens.”

“Nay, hinny! We’ll be no part of James’ court. Grandmam always said the key to survival was to stay out of politics, and out of court. We’re but a minor branch of our clan, but we are the richest. We have always avoided trouble by not allowing ourselves to be noticed. We will continue to do so.” He shifted his position and slowly began stroking her lovely round breasts.

“Then why,” she demanded, “did ye buy me a house in town?” The nipples on her breasts were pinkly pointed, and she was furious at her body’s quick response to him.

“Because I always pay my debts, madame.” He bent and nibbled teasingly on the tip of her breast.

Angrily she pulled away. “I have furnished that house wi my own money! Am I not even to spend part of each year there?”

“Of course ye may. We’ll go to town each year, I promise you. You can shop, see plays, and visit our friends. But there will be no getting involved with any Stewart court. Stewarts are always notoriously short of funds, and one can hardly refuse the king a loan. One can also not ask a king to return a loan. We’d be impoverished in a year!”

He pulled her underneath him and bent over her. “I’ll talk no more of this tonight, madame, Countess of Glenkirk.” His green-gold eyes glittered dangerously. “Are ye ready to be an obedient and dutiful wife, you impossible minx?”

Her slender fingers wound into his dark hair, and pulling his head down she kissed him slowly and expertly, her ripe body moving subtly beneath him.

“By God,” he swore when she released him, “I never taught you that!”

“Didn’t ye, my lord?” Her voice was honeyed.

“No!”

Her soft laughter teased him.

“You little bitch,” he said. His hand wrapped itself around her heavy hair. “If I thought that any other man even considered sampling your ample charms …”

She laughed again, but her eyes and mouth were defiant. Suddenly, with a savagery that left her gasping, he took her.

“I’ll never possess all of you, Cat, for yer quicksilver! But, by God, my dear, I’ll spoil you for any other man!”

She began to struggle, but he laughed and began kissing tiny kisses over her face, throat, and breasts. He could feel her heart beating wildly beneath his lips. His big hands began caressing her hips and thighs, slowly stroking the silken flesh.

“Patrick! Patrick!” Her voice was frantic. “Please, Patrick!” She could feel her control going, and couldn’t understand why she still fought him. Perhaps it was because she instinctively understood that at these times she and he both lost individual identity. It frightened her yet.

“Nay, sweetheart. Dinna fear what’s happening. Go along wi it, hinny. Go along wi it!”

It was easier to surrender, and she did, allowing herself to be swept away into the whirling rainbow vortex that always gave such pleasure. She lost track of everything except the wave upon wave of exquisite sensation that followed one upon the other until the final rending climax.

Later that night she awoke to find the moon shining through the window and across the bed. Patrick lay sprawled on his back, snoring gently. Carefully, she pulled her leg from underneath his. Turning on her side, she leaned on an elbow and gazed down at him.

She took pride in his good looks as he took pride in hers. His fair skin was tanned in places from their two-week ride. Thick dark lashes spread fanlike on his high cheekbones. His straight nose broadened at the nostrils, and his mouth was wide and generous. Her eyes wandered to his broad, hairless chest. She blushed furiously as her eyes caressed the tangled mat of black hair between his long, muscular legs.

He was a strange man. On the one hand he treated her as an equal, and truly seemed to understand the conflicting feelings that raged through her. On the other hand he treated her like a slave. He was tender, thoughtful, wise, cruel, and didactic. He was hardly the average man, she knew. But then, she was hardly the average woman. In her early teens, she had resented Grandmam for forcing a match on her when she was too young to understand the importance of it. However, and she chuckled softly to herself, somehow that incredibly beautiful white-haired old lady had
known.
We are well suited, my lord, and I, thought Cat. We are damnably well suited! Satisfied, she turned over on her stomach and fell into a deep, contented sleep.

T
HE picture was a charming domestic one. The dowager Countess of Glenkirk sat at her tapestry frame embroidering the wings on an angel. Her two-year-old grandson, Jamie, played before the fire under the watchful eye of Sally Kerr. Her son Adam sat going over the estate accounts. The earl was engaged in deep conversation with Master Benjamin Kira, his banker up from Edinburgh. Her two daughters, twenty-year-old Janet, who was married to the Sithean heir, and seventeen-year-old Mary, who would soon be wed to Greyhaven’s eldest boy, sat sewing clothes for Janet’s expected baby. Their men, Charles Leslie, and James Hay were all dicing in the corner.

Missing was the young Countess of Glenkirk and her cousin Fiona. They were, Meg knew, in Cat’s apartment trying on the latest fashions Fiona had brought back from Paris. The younger Leslies had recently returned from a year of travel. They had been in Italy visiting Rome, and to the courts of Florence, and to Naples. They had been to Spain, to King Henri III’s court in Paris, and had spent a few weeks in England. Fiona could not stop talking about it all, and the more she talked, the more discontent grew in Cat.