Love Wild and Fair (35 page)

Slowly their breathing returned to normal. She lay back against the pillows and drew him onto her breasts. “Why did ye wait until tonight to do that to me, Francis?” He said nothing and she continued. “It is so easy for ye men. Ye live by a strict code of honor that leaves no room for emotion. Tomorrow ye will turn me over to Sandy Home, who will turn me over to James Stewart, who will probably try to make love to me before turning me over to Patrick Leslie, who will make love to me because I am his wife, and it is his right Ye will feel remorse at my loss. Sandy Home will regret the part he must play in this drama. Jamie will feel lust mixed wi a bit of guilt, but not enough to stop this terrible thing he is doing to us. And Patrick will feel apprehension at my return, which he will try to hide from me by being masterful.

“Where am I in all of this? I am alone again while ye all play at this game of honor. I am forced to submit my honor to a man I dinna love—all the while hungering for ye, Bothwell. Ye are
all
so honorable. So then why do I end up feeling like a whore? I would rather be dead, and even that is denied me.”

“Dinna wish for death,” he whispered huskily. “The only thing that keeps me sane in all of this is knowing that ye’ll be alive and well wi Glenkirk.” Sitting up, he looked at her, his blue eyes blazing angrily. “I care naught for honor, and if I thought we could build a life for ourselves from the wreckage of our families I would take ye away tonight! Could ye be happy knowing that we had destroyed Glenkirk, Sithean, and Greyhaven? Nay, love, I dinna believe ye could. At least my children have Angus and the Douglases. Yer Leslies hae been a law to themselves. Ye’ve taken an occasional outsider

into yer group, but ye’ve been so busy preserving yer wealth together that ye hae no powerful ties.”

“We needed none,” she said. “Our wealth has been our power.”

“It isna now, my darling, it is yer weakness. Now James Stewart uses yer wealth as a weapon against ye, and against me. I love ye, Cat. I love ye wi all my heart I love ye as I hae never loved another woman, and when ye are gone from me my life will be an empty shell. I hae nothing left.”

“Will we nae see each other again?”

“There will come a time—six months, a year or two from now—when I will have to leave Scotland. Before I go I will see ye … if ye still wish to see me. Patrick has promised me that.”

She began to weep softly again, and he held her against him, stroking her long hair. There were no words left Exhausted, they finally slept waking several times before the dawn. He had to arise, but she caught him by the arm, and begged softly, “Once more, my rightful husband.”

So with exquisite delicacy he made love to her, his mouth seeking the sweetness of her breasts, her belly, her thighs. Gently he entered her, bringing them quickly to a mutual satisfaction. Then, marveling, as he always did, he grew hard again within her. This time he took his time, enjoying her lovely body to its fullest and again they dozed.

When she awoke for the second time he was already up, and a steaming tub stood before the fireplace. Without a word she arose and bathed. Downstairs he laid out a cold ham, oatcakes, and brown ale. She tried nibbling on an oatcake, but it tasted like ashes and she only managed to swallow it by gulping some of the bitter ale. She felt as cold as ice. Finally he said, “If we’re to meet Sandy on time we must leave now.” She looked up at

him, her lovely leaf-green eyes mirroring his pain. Catching her to him, his mouth closed over hers, stifling her cry. For a moment he lost himself in the sweetness of her, and as Cat’s lips parted beneath his and her warm breath rushed into his mouth, he groaned.

Suddenly she tore herself away from him and, fleeing outside, mounted her horse. For a moment he could not move. Then he pulled himself together and joined her.

The day was gray and threatening. Here and there the trees showed an early touch of color. They were to meet outside the town of Teviothead at the St Cuthbert’s cross. They rode in silence. Though there was so much she wanted to say to him, she could not speak.

Hercules, Lord Home, and his men were waiting. Francis Hepburn shook hands with his friend. “Ye’ll look after her, Sandy? Dinna let her do anything foolish.” His voice was almost pleading, and Alexander Home nodded wordlessly. Bothwell dismounted. He lifted Cat off her horse. They stood for one long moment looking at each other. Tenderly, he cupped her face in his big hand.

“Ye’ll take care of yerself?”

“Aye.”

“And ye’ll nae hold Glenkirk responsible for this? He would have had ye happy, even at the cost of losing ye.”

“I know.”

“And dinna let Jamie know he’s won.” “Christ no!” she exploded.

“I love ye, Catriona Mairi. Whatever happens, remember that. Remember.”

The beloved leaf-green eyes burned into his. “I love ye, Bothwell, and whatever happens I am always yers. James can force me back to Glenkirk, but he can never change the way I feel. I will never stop loving ye.” She

pulled his head down, kissed him passionately, and then quickly remounted her horse and kicked it into a canter.

Startled, Home looked at the Earl of Bothwell and then signaled his men to ride off after her. For a moment Francis Hepburn looked after them Then suddenly his big shoulders began to shake, and Hercules heard dry, wracking sobs. He stood, helpless, not knowing what to do. He had never known Francis to cry.

Unable to think of anything else, he threw an arm around Bothwell’s shoulder. “Come on, Francis! Let’s go home!”

Francis Hepburn turned to face his brother, and the empty look in his eyes made Hercules recoil. “I hae no home now, Hercules,” said Bothwell. “She was my home … and now she is gone.”

A
drizzle fell without letup, but Cat insisted on riding straight through to Edinburgh. She refused to spend the night at an inn, stopping twice instead so Home and his men could refresh and relieve themselves. She would take no food, but drank a cup of wine, which Lord Home instructed the innkeeper to lace with eggs and spices. Home’s cousin, riding in their party, commented, “I hope ye get her to Edinburgh alive. Wi Bothwell behind ye and the king ahead of ye, I’d hate to be in yer boots, Sandy, if anything should happen to her.”

“She’ll get there,” answered Lord Home grimly. “If only to hae the pleasure of spitting in the king’s face. She’s a brave lass, is Cat Leslie.”

In the cold dark hours before dawn they reached Edinburgh. Lord Home insisted on stopping at this point. “Someone,” he told Cat, “must go ahead to Holy-rood House and inform the king yer here. He has insisted on seeing ye.”

She did not argue, so Home sent his cousin, quietly instructing him to go first to Glenkirk House and inform the earl of his wife’s arrival. Then he was to go to Holyrood and inform the king.

Home took Cat to his own townhouse, where his servants served them with a warm fire and a good breakfast

“Ye must eat something, Cat luv,” urged Home worriedly.

“Sandy, I canna eat, but get me some of that wine mixture. And I want a hot tub. I’m fair chilled, and ‘twill nae do for me to appear before the king smelling of the road. Have one of yer men bring my saddlebags inside. I’ve a change of clothes.” Her voice was calm, her request reasonable, but her eyes were fever-bright.

Having instructed his people, he put an arm about her and asked, “Are ye all right, Cat?”

“Dinna be kind to me, Sandy,” she said softly. “If ye are, I’ll break, and I canna break until I hae seen Cousin Jamie.”

They set a hip bath before the fire and screened it off. The little maidservant took the cake of scented soap from her saddlebags and helped Cat bathe. When she came out from behind the screen, Home whistled low with both admiration and shock.

“God’s bones, luv! Do ye mean to appear before James like that?”

She wore a low-necked gown of black velvet with long tight sleeves edged in cream-colored lace. Across her swelling breasts was draped a Hepburn plaid caught at the shoulder with a large gold pin, an emerald in its center. On her chest, above a marvelous display of breasts, rested the gold Hepburn lion pendant that Both-well had given her. “Do ye think the king will object if I show my loyalties?” she asked.

“Ye know damn well he will! Ye can gain nothing by defying him, Cat!”

“I can lose nothing either, Sandy! He’s already taken my life from me.”

Lord Home shook his head. He couldn’t reasonably argue with her. Instead he handed her the goblet of wine. “Drink it, luv. Yer going to need yer strength for the battle ahead.”

An hour later he was relieved of his burden when the king’s chamberboy escorted the Countess of Glenkirk into the king’s private closet.

James Stewart wore a floorlength robe over his silk nightshirt She curtsied and rose to face him. The hooded amber eyes swept over her, and then he said coldly, “I dinna care for yer gown, madame.”

“I am in mourning, sire.”

“For whom?”

“Myself,” she replied equally coldly. “I died yesterday.”

“Dinna defy me, madame! Ye should be severely punished for yer wanton behavior!”

She laughed harshly. “Instruct me, yer majesty. Tis quite permissible for me to be
yer
mistress, but ‘tis not permissible for me to be Bothwell’s mistress. Is that correct?”

“I loved ye,” he said quietly.

“Ye lusted after me! Nothing grander than that” she shot back. “And even when that sweet girl became yer queen ye were nae content and wouldna behave decently. Ye had to once again force yer way into my bed, though ye knew it would cause trouble. I begged ye not to destroy my marriage to Patrick Leslie, and when he caught ye wi yer dirty hands all over me, ye made it all worse than it had to be. But Jamie, I forgie ye that because in forcing me to flee yer cruelty I fled to Francis Hepburn. And I fell in love. He’s worth a hundred of ye, Jamie. And though ye’ve torn us apart, even death will nae stop our love because it is greater than even the damned royal Stewarts!” She turned from him.

He was stunned by her violence. “Cat …” He softly used her name for the first time. “Cat love, dinna turn from me. I hae hungered so for ye all these months.” He touched her shoulder and she shuddered.

“For pity’s sake, Jamie, dinna touch me! Ye disgust me!”

His hand reached up and caressed the shining dark-gold hair she had bound loosely with a ribbon. “Yer lovely hair,” he said. “Yer lovely soft hair. How I remember it tumbled on the pillows when I made love to ye. Or dropping like a sinning curtain around us in bed. It is so beautiful. So very beautiful,” he murmured softly.

She turned to him then, and as he watched, fascinated and unbelieving, she reached down to the gewgaws that hung from her waist and drew up a small pair of gold scissors. Before he could stop her she had cut through the thickly bound plait of hair just above the ribbon. “If ye like my hair so, Jamie, ye should hae it, for ‘tis all ye’ll ever get of Cat Leslie!” She flung the golden mass at him, her face blazing contempt.

The king drew back, horrified. It was at this point that the Earl of Glenkirk entered the room. For a moment James and Patrick stood side by side. Seeing them together, Cat’s heart began to pound violently. It was Glenkirk who realized what was frightening her and, leaping the space betwen them, he caught her as she crumbled in a dead faint Before she lost consciousness he heard her cry out piteously, “Francis! Help me!”

Cradling his wife in his arms, Patrick Leslie said quietly to the king, “I’ll bid ye good day, Jamie. When Cat is fit to travel I am taking her home to Glenkirk. If ye try to stop me, I swear I’ll return her to Bothwell myself, and the devil take the consequences!”

But James said nothing. He stared at the silken rope of hair in his hands. Patrick Leslie, following the king’s chamberboy, carried his unconscious wife to his carriage and ordered the coachman to drive quickly back to Glenkirk House. Mrs. Kerr, clucking sympathetically, helped put Cat to bed.

Patrick was relieved to see that she was now merely in a deep sleep. That she was exhausted emotionally as well as physically he did not need to be told, though Lord Home had talked with him as they left the palace. The Earl of Glenkirk sat by his wife’s bedside throughout the day, watching over her. He learned how deep her love for Francis Hepburn really was. Patrick Leslie felt a great sadness come over
him
as he listened to his wife talking in her sleep. He was not sure he could ever win her back, but he realized once more that he still loved her.

Towards late afternoon he saw signs that she would soon be awakening. Stepping into the upstairs hall, he called to Mrs. Kerr, instructing her to bring a tray with capon, bread and butter, and a small decanter of sweet white wine. When Cat opened her eyes she saw Patrick crossing the room with a tray in his hands.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” he said gently. “How do ye feel?”

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked him.

“About ten hours.” Putting the tray down on the bedside table he fluffed the goosedown pillows, and helped her to sit up. “Mrs. Kerr fixed ye this tray.” He placed it on her lap.

“Take it away. I canna eat.”

Patrick Leslie drew a chair up next to the bed and sat down. He held a capon wing under her nose. “Lord Home told me that ye did not eat during the whole trip from the borders. When did ye have yer last meal?”

“Two nights ago.” She said it so softly that he barely heard her.

“Eat,” he said quietly.

She raised her head up and looked at him. Her lovely eyes filled with tears that spilled down her cheeks in a torrent He quickly put down the poultry wing and tenderly gathered her into his arms. He felt her stiffen,

but chose to ignore it. “Cry!” he commanded. “Damnit, Catriona! Cry!” At this, the great sorrow that she had been forcing down welled up and spilled over. She wept until her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, until she could weep no more. And all the while he held her protectively, crooning softly to her. When she was finally quiet he held her off from him a moment and, with a silken handkerchief, wiped her cheeks. But when he put the silk to her nose, she snatched it from him angrily. “I’m nae a child, Glenkirk!”