Love Wild and Fair (7 page)

Ellen came back into the room bearing a tray. “Fresh bread new from the oven! Half a broiled rabbit, a honeycomb, and some brown ale.”

Cat found she was hungry.

“Yer all right if ye can eat like that” observed Ellen.

“Only a moonstruck idiot stops eating in a bad situation,” said Cat. “If I’m going to think of a way to escape his high lordship, I’ve got to keep up my strength.”

“Mistress Cat! I dinna know why the earl puts up wi ye except he loves ye!”

“He loves me? Nonsense, Ellie! He thinks he owns me, and it pleases him to show his superiority over me by abusing my body.”

Ellen shrugged. She didn’t understand Catriona when she spoke like that. Taking up the empty tray, she left the room, shaking her head.

Cat began to prowl the room. Until last night it had simply been a place to sleep. Now she looked on it as her prison. It could be entered only by a door from the stairway. There was a small fireplace on the door wall, and to the left was a bank of casement windows. There was one small, round window to the right. It was not a large room, and held only four pieces of furniture—a large canopied and curtained bed opposite the door, a low clothes chest at its foot, a small table on the single-windowed wall, and a chair by the fireplace. A pier glass hung on the bit of wall to the left of the door.

She stood by the windows looking out. From her vantage point she could see part of the valley below, and into the forest that surrounded the house. She saw Patrick coming out of the woods now. He was riding Dearg, and a buck was flung across his saddle. Conall ran to meet him and, taking the buck across his shoulders, went off in the direction of the stables. The earl followed.

Opening the bedroom door, Cat called down to Ellen. “Prepare a tub in the kitchen for the earl, Ellie. He’s just brought in a buck, and he and Conall have gone to butcher it. I’ll nae have him dripping blood all over my bedroom.”

When he entered the bedroom an hour later clad only in a rough towel, she couldn’t help but laugh. He grinned back at her.

“You see, madame. I’ve done as I’ve been told. Come now, and gie me a kiss.”

Shyly she walked to him, and putting her arms about his neck kissed him.

“Jesu, yer sweet,” he muttered, running his big hands over her silk-sheathed body and burying his face for a moment in her neck.

“Please, Patrick,” she whispered.

“Please, Patrick, what?” he demanded thickly. He drew her over in front of the pier glass, and standing behind her gently slid her gown off. His big hands cupped her lovely breasts, and instantly the nipples sprang erect. “Look at yerself, Cat! I hae but to touch ye, and yer hungry for me!”

“No! No!” she protested, closing her eyes tightly.

He laughed softly, and turning her to him began to kiss her throat, her lips, her eyelids, with tiny, soft little kisses. His mouth began to move downward to her breasts. He knelt and, holding her firm but gently by the waist, kissed her shrinking belly, his kisses becoming more intense as they traveled lower. His lips found the tiny mole, and kissed it tenderly. Cat began to weep softly.

“Don’t, sweetheart,” he said gently. “There’s nae shame in being a woman, and enjoying it.”

“Ye knew?”

“Aye,” he said, drawing her down on the floor in front of the cracking fire. “I knew. I’ve made love to enough women in my life to know when one is enjoying it, even when she struggles like a demon, and vows she hates me.”

“I do hate ye,” she insisted.

He chuckled. “Then in the next few weeks I’ll gie ye cause each day to hate me more.” Swiftly he slid between her legs and thrust his aching manhood into her softness. She tried to squirm away. “Nay, hinny! I told ye last night that ye belong to me. And what I hold, my sweet Cat, I keep!”

T
HE spring sped by, and Midsummer Eve came and went. Still the Earl of Glenkirk held his beautiful betrothed a prisoner at A-Cuil. Often he rode the almost two hours down to Glenkirk so he might attend to his estate’s business. Many days he hunted to provide game for his small household. But never did he spend a night away from Cat.

Though she would never have told him so, Cat now looked forward to the nights she spent in Patrick’s arms. She was young, and healthy, and more than half in love with her handsome husband-to-be. As for the earl, he was passionately in love with her, and would have killed any man who dared to look upon her with even the slightest interest.

As the days grew warmer and longer, he took her upon his horse and rode with her through the forest and the high meadows. Several times they made love beneath the sun in fields of new heather. She was as warm as wine, and as sweet as honey. Patrick marveled that he, who had never been faithful to one woman for more than a week or two at a time, dreaded the thought of returning to Glenkirk and sharing her with even his family.

The return would be soon. Cat had not yet connected her loss of a show of blood with impending motherhood. Ellen had, and she sought a way to bring the matter to her young mistress’s attention. One morning opportunity presented itself.

The earl had risen early and gone to Glenkirk. Ellen cheerfully entered the bedchamber bearing a tray that held a small pigeon pie, fresh from the oven. “Yer favorite,” she chortled. “Doesn’t it smell wonderful,” she enthused, waving the tray beneath her lady’s nose.

Cat went white. Scrambling from the bed, she grabbed the basin from the table and retched into it.

“Och,” sympathized Ellen, putting down the tray and wiping the girl’s damp forehead with the linen chamber cloth. “Back into bed wi you, my dearie.” She tucked Cat in. “The naughty laddie, to make his mama so sick,” she said coyly.

Cat stared at her tiring woman as if she had lost her mind. “What are ye babbling about, Ellie? And take that damned pie away, or I’ll be sick again! Get me some brown ale to drink, and some oat cakes.”

Ellen removed the offending pie and returned a few minutes later with the requested meal. She watched as Cat cautiously sipped the ale, and then, apparently satisfied, wolfed down the oat cakes.

“How do ye feel now?” she asked.

“Better. I canna think what made me so sick. It’s the third time it’s happened in the last week. Do ye think that perhaps something has gone rotten in the larder?”

“Mistress Cat!” Ellen was exasperated beyond all. “Ye be wi child! He’s put his bairn in yer belly, and now we can go home!”

Cat’s leaf-green eyes widened. “No,” she whispered. “No! No! No!”

“Aye! Yer ripening! There’s no doubt about it. The earl will be so happy!”

Catriona turned angrily on Ellen. “If ye dare to tell him, I’ll cut yer tongue out! Do ye understand me?”

“My lady!”

Cat closed her eyes for a moment Opening them again, she spoke calmly and quietly.
“I
will tell my lord of my condition, Ellie, but not yet The moment he knows, he’ll rush me down to Glenkirk. I dinna want to leave A-Cuil yet Please. I canna be very far along. There is time.”

Ellen was soft-hearted by nature. The thought that her young mistress wanted a little more time alone with the earl appealed to her sense of romance. “When was yer last show?” she asked.

Cat thought a moment “Early May,” she said.

“Ah, sweeting, yer a good three months along,” said Ellen, “but we can wait a week or so before his lordship must know. The wee laddie will be a winter child.”

“No hints, Ellie. No arch looks. I would surprise the earl.”

And she might have told him, and gone meekly home to Glenkirk, had not Patrick himself spoiled it Kept at Glenkirk for three days and nights by a foolish problem, he arrived back at A-Cuil as randy as a young stallion in first heat.

Cat had decided to tell him, and she ran joyfully to greet him only to have him sweep her up in his arms and carry her to their bedroom Swiftly, without preliminaries, he tore his clothing off, shoved her down on the bed, pushed her nightgown up, and thrust into her. Cat was outraged.

Satisfied for the moment, he sat up against the pillows and pulled her back against him. He had always loved her breasts, and now he fondled them hungrily. Beginning to swell with her pregnancy, they were sore, and his touch irritated her. He further annoyed her by chuckling, “I think these sweet little titties of mine are growing bigger, Cat.” He squeezed them playfully. “A man’s loving care can work wonders, eh, love?”

He should have been warned by the ominous silence, but his mind was on other things, and his body was hungry for her again. He took her once more. Then, pushing her from their bed, he patted her buttock and asked for his dinner.

She descended to the kitchen. Ellen was long since in her bed, so Cat loaded a tray with half a roasted bird, a small cold game pie from the larder, bread, butter, a honeycomb, and a foaming pitcher of brown ale, to which she added a pinch of dried herbs. The earl was going to have an excellent night’s sleep.

She served him sweetly, and almost felt guilty when he said, “You are going to be the most beautiful countess Glenkirk’s ever had. Lord, sweetheart! How I love you!” The drugged ale was beginning to work on him. Climbing into their bed, he fell asleep.

From childhood Cat Hay had been able to wake herself on command. It was still dark when she rose and dressed herself in riding pants and a linen shirt. She packed a small bundle and, picking up Glenkirk’s warm cloak, slipped out of the room and down the stairs. It was fully three hours till dawn. Cat crept softly into the stable. Above, in the loft, Ellen was snoring. Conall, she knew, was sleeping with his mistress of the moment, about half a mile away. Quietly she saddled Dearg. Putting a lead rein on Conall’s Fyne, she led both horses from the stable.

She walked them a good quarter-mile from the house. Then, mounting Dearg and leading Fyne, she galloped off in the direction of Greyhaven. She planned to get there before even the servants were awake. Once in the house she would gather a few more clothes, her jewelry, and some gold from her father’s cache.

Achieving her objective, she headed for the high road, but not before first releasing Fyne with a swat on his rump. He’d go straight to his stables at Glenkirk. Munching oatcakes, she rode along, chuckling to herself. She had outwitted Patrick! He had been so kind and loving in the last weeks that she had almost believed he accepted her as an equal. Last night, however, had told her the truth of the matter. It was as he had said. She was his possession, something for him to breed sons on. Well, she would soon teach him the folly of taking her for granted. She was nobody’s slave.

She kicked Dearg into a gallop. Had Patrick really believed that by taking Bana from her she couldn’t escape? If he had taken the time to learn as much about Catriona Hay the woman as he had taken learning about Catriona Hay’s body, he would have known that there wasn’t a horse bred she couldn’t ride. It would have given her great pleasure to know that, at that very moment, Patrick Leslie was learning just that.

He had awakened with a headache and a funny taste in his mouth. Reaching out he discovered that Cat was gone. A frantic knocking on the door tortured his head. “Come in, damnit!” he shouted. Both Ellen and Conall tumbled into the room, talking at once. “Silence!” he roared. “One of ye at a time. Ellen, you first.”

“She’s gone, my lord. Mistress Catriona has gone. She’s taken both horses, and run away.”

“When?”

“Sometime in the night I am sorry, my lord. I sleep like the dead till six each morning. I never heard a thing.”

“Where were ye?” said the earl, turning to Conall. “Nay. Dinna tell me. Ye were off sticking it in yer little shepherdess. Jesu!” he swore. “When I catch her this time she’ll not sit down for a month!”

Ellen rounded on him. “Ye’ll nae lay a hand on her. My little lambie! She’s more than three months gone wi yer bairn. She planned to tell ye when ye returned from Glenkirk. What did ye
do
to her to make her flee ye, my poor Cat? Ye must hae done something.”

Patrick flushed.

“So!” pounced Ellen. “Ye did do something!”

“I only made love to her,” Patrick protested. “I’d been wi’out her for three days!”

“If only you Leslie men thought more wi yer heads and less wi yer cocks! So ye ‘made love’ to her? I can see it now.” Her scornful glance swept the room. “Having come home, and wi’out so much as a by-yer-leave, ye fucked her. Was it once or was it twice? Then I’ll wager ye demanded yer dinner.” The earl looked shamefaced, and Ellen snorted. “God, mon! Where’s yer sense? If ye’d been an Englishman or a Frenchie I’d expect stupidity, but a Scotsman knows that a Scotswoman is the most independent of creatures! Well, she’s got a good start on ye now, and ye’ll nae find her easily this time.”

“She canna have gone far,” said Patrick. “She’s run home to her mother, mark my words on it.”

Ellen shook her head sadly at him. “Nay, my lord. If she’s run home to Greyhaven, ‘twill only be to get her jewels, and perhaps steal some gold from her father. But where she’ll go to hide, my lord, I dinna know. She’s never traveled out of the district before.”

“I thought her jewels were at Glenkirk.”

“Nay, my lord. When Mistress Cat fled ye in February I brought them back to Greyhaven, and she knew it.”

For a second Patrick Leslie looked stricken. Then, swinging his legs over the bed, he stood up. Without another word, Ellen handed him his breeches and left the room.

He spoke to Conall. “The nearest horses?”

“In the valley. Gavin Shaw has the nearest farm.”

“Get going,” said the earl. “I’ll meet ye there.”

Conall nodded and left. Patrick finished dressing and went down to the kitchen. Ellen handed him a large sandwich of bread and ham. “Ye can eat as ye walk,” she said.

He nodded his thanks. “Pack everything up here for for me, Ellie. I’ll send someone up for ye by afternoon at the latest. Will ye stay at Glenkirk until I find her? She’s going to need ye more than ever now.”

“I’ll stay. Her apartments have never been properly refurbished, and there’s the nursery to prepare.”

Flashing her a smile, he left A-Cuil and began his walk down to the Shaw farm.