Love Wild and Fair (9 page)

Mrs. Kerr bobbed a curtsy.

“And,” continued the abbot, “the young woman who calls herself Mistress Abernethy is in fact the Lady Catriona Hay, the earl’s betrothed wife. For reasons I’ll nae go into, my wayward niece has twice fled her marriage. Now, however, the time for foolishness is over. Within a few days’ time the earl’s son will be born. He must, of course, be legitimate. If ye would be so good as to show me to my niece’s bedchamber, we will see her now.”

Mrs. Kerr said not a word, but moved quickly out of the formal parlor and up the stairs, the earl and the abbot following her. On the second floor she pointed to a door. “That is my lady’s room. Let me waken her, my lord.” A few minutes later she stuck her head through the door and beckoned the men inside. Then she turned and hurried back down the stairs to tell Sally this extraordinary turn of events.

Cat Hay, wearing a dark-green velvet dressing gown, stood with her back to the blazing fireplace. “Well, uncle. What brings ye here?” she asked calmly.

For the briefest moment Charles Leslie was reminded of his grandmother, Janet “I’ve come to hear ye exchange yer wedding vows wi Patrick,” he said.

“Such a long ride for nothing,” she said.

“Niece! Yer time is very near. Ye carry wi’in yer belly the next rightful heir of Glenkirk. Would ye deny him his birthright?”

“Save yer breath, uncle. I will nae wed wi Patrick. He does not want a wife. He wants a brood mare—a thing on which to breed his sons. He believes he owns me. He told me so himself.”

Patrick winced. “Please, Cat I love ye, hinny. I’ve been crazy wi worry over ye and the bairn. Please, sweetheart! ‘Tis my son you carry.”

“Nay, my lord. Not yer son. Yer bastard!”

The earl staggered as if she’d struck him, and for a moment Charles Leslie felt sorry for his nephew. It was going to be no easy task getting Cat to speak her vows, but he had not risen to the office of abbot by meekness.

“Leave us, nephew.” When Patrick had left, and the door closed behind him, Charles Leslie turned to his niece. “All right, Catriona, let us talk. I want the whole story. A year ago ye were willing to marry Patrick. What happened to cause this breach between ye?”

Sighing, she eased herself into a chair. “At first it was but a misunderstanding. Fiona claimed to be sleeping wi him, and I was furious, and why not? He claimed to love me, and yet appeared to be sleeping wi another woman.”

“You might have asked him, child,” said the abbot.

“Uncle! His reputation preceded him, and I was a very young girl. When he found me at my house, A-Cuil, he beat and raped me, uncle! He said I was ‘a thing on which to breed his sons,’ and I’d nae go home till I was carrying his child, because then I would have to wed him. I would hae no other choice.”

The abbot silently thanked God that he had chosen the religious life. Women, particularly those born into his family, could be such damned nuisances.

Cat continued. “He called me his ‘possession.’ I am no man’s possession! When Patrick acknowledges me as an individual, and not as a part of himself, then I will consider the matter of marriage.”

Charles Leslie sighed. It was worse than he had thought However, and he chuckled at the realization, his niece was a remarkable strategist She had the Earl of Glenkirk by the throat If he wanted his son—the abbot never considered that the baby might be a daughter—then he must agree to her demands. The abbot decided to appeal to Cat’s maternal instinct

“Have ye no feeling for the bairn, niece?”

“No,” she answered. “Should I?”

Charles Leslie exploded. “God’s nightshirt, girl! Ye are the most unnatural mother I hae ever known! To have no feeling for yer child?”

Cat laughed. “Dinna be silly, uncle. Why should I hae any feeling for my child yet? I dinna know him. I hae never seen him. What is there for me to get soft about? A dream? Foolishness! If I dream the lad a blue-eyed redhead, and he arrives wi brown eyes, and black hair …” She stopped a moment, and then said in a solemn voice, “… or worse yet, a blond lassie! Why, uncle, I should be very disappointed then. And that’s overlooking the fact that the bairn’s father and I are not exactly on the best of terms.”

Charles Leslie pursed his lips. “Ye are being deliberately difficult,” he said.

“Aye,” she rejoined sweetly. “It comes from being tired. I bear a heavy load, uncle. Ye and Patrick are welcome to stay the night. If ye’ll send Mrs. Kerr to me on yer way out, I’ll gie her instructions for yer comfort.”

He retreated as gracefully as he could to the library on the main floor. Patrick was waiting. The abbot shook his head. “It’s going to take time, lad. She’s got the upper hand, and is in no mood to settle easily wi you.”

“She must!”

“Nay, lad. Be careful, now. That’s where ye made yer first mistake. Ye assume ye can bring Cat to heel, and ye cannot. She is proud, and has a wide streak of independence that I’ve seen before. My grandmother, Janet Leslie, was very much like that But she had wisdom to go with her willfulness.”

“I wonder if she had it when she was Cat’s age,” mused Patrick.

“She must have to have survived all she did,” replied the abbot. “However, nephew, our problem is Catriona. She is very angry with you because of the things ye have said and done to her. She feels yer interest in her is not for herself, but for her breeding ability. Ye must humor her. Women about to gie birth have strange notions.”

“I dinna understand what she wants,” complained the earl. “I love her. Isn’t that enough?”

“Nay, nephew, ‘tis not. You are considering only yerself. I am not sure I understand entirely what it is she wants, but I think she wants ye to take an interest in her as a person. To talk wi her, to consult wi her on matters affecting yer life together—not simply to make demands. Catriona is, after all, a well-bred and an educated young woman. I think, Patrick, that yer problem stems from consorting wi so many low women, that ye dinna know how to treat a well-born one. Catriona is nae a plaything. And until ye realize that, she willna hae ye.”

The earl flushed. But before he could defend himself, Mrs. Kerr was at the door asking them to dinner.

“Will yer mistress be joining us?” the abbot inquired.

“No, my lord. She’ll sleep till late afternoon.”

They ate in silence. The abbot noted with pleasure that Cat kept a good table. There was a hearty soup filled with carrots, barley, and thick chunks of mutton. Next came large bowls of fresh-caught oysters, a joint of rare beef, a fat capon, artichokes in vinegar, and some pastries of rabbit and of venison. There was bread, hot from the oven, and sweet butter. A tart of pears, apples, nuts, and spices and a fine cheese finished off the meal. Their goblets had been filled repeatedly with a good red wine.

Belching delicately, the abbot commented, “Ye’ll nae go hungry wi Catriona in yer house, nephew. She sets a good table.”

“Provided I can get her into my house to start with,” the earl said ruefully.

The afternoon was long, and the abbot retired to his room to sleep and to make his devotions. Restless, Patrick found his cloak and went out into the city. The gray February cold was bitter, and he could smell on the wind the snow that would begin falling by evening. He walked without thinking. He walked to calm the feelings that raged through him. Suddenly he caught sight of a small jewelry shop and went inside. The owner, recognizing wealth when he saw it, came forward.

“Do ye hae any rings for sale?”

“Yes, my lord. If my lord would be seated.” He signaled an apprentice, who hurried forward with a chair.

Patrick sat down. “A lady’s ring,” he clarified.

“Ahhhh,” smiled the jeweler. “His lordship wishes something for a good friend.” He snapped his fingers at a second apprentice, who came forward with a tray.

Patrick scornfully eyed the contents. “Lord, mon! Is this the best ye can do? I’m buying a ring for my wife, not for my whore.” A second tray was presented. Patrick smiled. “This is more like it, mon!”

Four rings nestled on the pale-blue velvet; a diamond teardrop, a ruby heart, a round sapphire, and a square-cut emerald. Each was set in heavy gold. Carefully he examined each, asking its price. At last, picking up the heart-shaped ruby ring, he said, “I’ll take this one, but only on one condition.”

“And that is, my lord?”

“Send one of yer apprentices to the Kiras in Gold-smith’s Lane. Tell them the Earl of Glenkirk wishes an appraisal immediately.”

The jeweler bowed and bade one of his lads go. His prices were honest, and for that he thanked God. Getting a customer like the Earl of Glenkirk was a feather in his cap. If the earl took the ring, the jeweler thought, his wife could have the new cloak she’d been hounding him for all winter, and his mistress would get the lace cap she wanted. The apprentice reappeared soon, bringing a man with him.

“Benjamin!” The earl stood and grasped the newcomer’s hand warmly.

“My lord, it is good to see you. When did you arrive in Edinburgh?”

“Just today. My Uncle Charles has accompanied me. We stay at my brother’s house off High Street.”

“Yes,” said Benjamin Kira. “I know the house. I spoke with Lord Adam and his wife before they left for France.” He smiled at the earl. “So you’re buying jewelry?”

“For my lady Catriona.”

“Ahh,” said Benjamin Kira. He knew most of the story, but was far too polite to say so. “The ring, master jeweler.” Slipping a small loop on his eye, he held up the ruby. “Ahhhhh. Yes. Hummm. Yes. Good. Very good!” He handed the ring to Patrick, and turned to the merchant “Well, Master Adie, it’s a beautiful stone. Well cut, nicely set. Your price?” The jeweler named it. “Very fair,” pronounced Benjamin Kira. “In fact, you’re getting a bargain, my lord. Let me see the other rings you showed the earl.” He turned back to the jeweler. He examined the diamond, the sapphire, and the emerald, and then asked the price of each. “Too low, Master Adie,” he told the surprised jeweler. “Raise the price on the emerald by twenty percent, and on the diamond and sapphire by ten percent.”

Patrick directed Benjamin Kira to see that the jeweler was paid. Thanking him for his appraisal, the earl bid him and the jeweler good day. A blue-gray dusk lit the city, and snow was beginning to drift down in large, fat, sticky flakes. Briskly he walked back to his brother’s house. Sally opened the door for him and, taking his cloak and cap, shooed him down the hall into the family parlor. “There’s a good fire going, m’lord, and I’ll bring ye some hot spiced wine.”

He found his uncle and Cat engrossed in a game of chess before the fire. He said nothing, but sat down. Sally came in and set the goblet by his hand. He drank slowly, savoring the sweetness of the wine, the pungency of the spices, and the lovely warmth that began to seep through his chilled body.

“Check, and mate,” he heard his uncle say.

“Yer far too skilled a chess player for an abbot,” Cat complained.

“I generally win what I set out to win,” came the reply.

“There speaks the Leslie in ye,” Cat laughed. “I believe yer trying to tell me something, uncle.”

“Yes, my child, I am. Whatever your misunderstanding wi Patrick, the bairn is the innocent party. Dinna let him be born nameless.”

“Oh, he won’t be nameless. I intend calling him James, after the king. I saw the lad out riding one day. Such a solemn boy, but verra bonnie.”

Glenkirk bit his lip to keep from laughing. The minx was deliberately baiting the abbot, and she had succeeded admirably. Charles Leslie exploded in a rash of very unabbotlike Gaelic oaths. Cat stood up and curtsied. “Good night, uncle. I find I am once again fatigued,” she said, leaving the room. She had never, even once, acknowledged Patrick’s presence.

“Someone ought to beat the wench on her backside!” growled the abbot.

“I already have,” replied the earl. “It did no good.”

The abbot snorted. “Tomorrow I will speak wi her again. Now, I am for my bed. I’ll need a good night’s rest if I’m to contend with Catriona Hay.”

Patrick stood by the window watching the snow. It was falling quite thickly now, and the deserted street outside was already well covered. The parlor door opened to admit Sally, carrying a tray. “Mistress thought ye might be hungry after yer walk, m’lord. She and yer uncle ate earlier.” She put the tray on the table by the fireplace. “I’ll come back in a bit, sir. Ye eat up now!”

The tray contained a steaming bowl of boiled shrimp, a plate with two thick slices of cold ham, a small, hot loaf of bread, a dish of sweet butter, and a pitcher of brown ale. Patrick devoured it all. When Sally returned she brought a plate of warm shortbread and a bowl of highly polished red apples. He ate all the shortbread and two of the apples. Sally, clearing away the tray, smiled warmly at him. “It does me good to see you eat, m’lord! It’s like watching me brother, Ian. Now, sir, if you’ll look in the cabinet there,” she pointed across the room, “you’ll find some good whisky. Will there be anything else before I go to bed?”

“Nay, lass. Thank ye kindly. Run along now.”

Alone again, he poured himself a whisky and drank it slowly, enjoying its smoky bite. Trust Cat to find a man with a good still, he thought Cat! Ah, sweetheart, I’ve hurt ye, and now I am going to have the devil’s own time wi ye. My uncle may do all the diplomacy he chooses tomorrow, but I must talk wi ye tonight.

He put down his glass and exited the family parlor. Sally had left him a nightstick burning on the table by the stairwell. Slowly he climbed the stairs, dreading the moment he’d have to face her. Standing in front of her door, he knocked. For a moment he hoped she was asleep. Then the door opened, and there she was in her green velvet dressing gown, her heavy, honey-colored hair loose about her shoulders. He stared tongue-tied, feeling like a fool.

“Patrick.” Her voice was soft. “Either come in, or go away.” She turned and walked back into the room.

He followed her, closing the door behind him. A fire burned in the grate, lighting the room. She had been in bed. Paying him no heed, she climbed back into the warmth of her quilts. Two huge pillows propped her up. He drew a chair up next to the bed and sat down.

“Well, my lord,” she said, folding her hands over her enormous belly, “I think I am safe in assuming ye’ve nae come to rape me this night. What is it then ye want?”