Virginia Henley (20 page)

Catherine decided to wear her lilac velvet with slashed sleeves that showed the cream satin beneath. Maggie helped put up her hair, then fastened the matching ruff around her neck. “Are you not coming with me tonight?”

“No, I’ll stay and have dinner with yer grandfather.”

“He’s not coming either?” Cat asked, surprised.

“Too many females under one roof fer his liking.”

“But Malcolm will be there.”

“Aye, he’s the head of that household. He was married, but his young wife died. He has no children, but his sisters do, all of them wee lasses. Go and enjoy.”

The grand house was a little more than a mile away from the castle, and Catherine was transported there in the earl’s carriage. Jessie met her at the door and a servant took her cloak. Cat was immediately surrounded by four little girls between the ages of three and seven who were so excited they danced about her in a circle. The two young women who were their mothers seemed just as thrilled as the children.

Jessie hurried through introductions and Cat quickly memorized their names as they all moved to a big sitting room.

“Are you a princess, Lady Catherine?” the seven-year-old asked.

Cat laughed. “No, I’m not a princess, Jessica.”

“You are wearing a princess gown,” the child insisted.

“Thank you. Would you like a princess gown?” She looked into the four upturned faces. “Would you all like princess gowns?”

Catherine spoke to their mothers, who were little more than her own age. “Do you have a sewing woman who makes their dresses?”

“We make most of them ourselves,” Jessica’s mother replied.

“That’s quite an undertaking. I only sew a little, but I love to design clothes. Would it be all right if I designed party dresses for your girls?”

They all clustered about Catherine telling her their favorite colors and stroking her velvet and satin with eager fingers.

“Where the devil are yer manners? The lady is our guest! Joan, Judith, control yer unruly bairns,” a man’s voice ordered.

Cat looked up and saw Malcolm. “It’s all right. I love children.” She looked into his gray eyes.
God, mayhap I said the wrong thing. He too loves children but sadly has none of his own.
“Malcolm, thank you for inviting me.” She held out her hand.

He took it and raised it to his lips. “I just don’t want ye to think all Scots are barbarians.”

She smiled into his eyes. “Why would I think that?”

He smiled back. “After meeting Lord Stewart and the Earl of Winton, why would ye not?”

Cat laughed, delighted that he had a sense of humor. “Neither could be described as
gentle men,
but surely not barbarians?”

Malcolm signaled his sisters and they bade the children to say their good nights. “They eat in the nursery,” Joan explained.

Cat felt a pang of disappointment. “Good night. I will begin designing your princess dresses right away,” she promised.

When they sat down to dinner, Malcolm was the only male. “Won’t your husbands be joining us?” Cat asked Judith.

“They are busy with the calving tonight,” Malcolm answered.

No children allowed at his table and no husbands either, by the looks of it. Another controlling Scot,
Cat thought irreverently.

The food was delicious and the atmosphere warm and welcoming. The women asked her about her mother and had dozens of questions about the English Court. She in turn asked questions about Seton. In essence they told her that Malcolm was indispensable to the Earl of Winton’s estate and that her grandfather relied on him for everything. They made it sound as if the business success was solely due to Malcolm. Catherine smiled to mask her thoughts.
I don’t doubt that Malcolm has heavy responsibilities, but I don’t believe Geordie Seton would allow any to control him or Seton.

When the meal was over, Malcolm poured her a glass of wine. “Come, let me show ye the house, Catherine.”

As she walked beside him, she noted that he was not nearly as tall as Patrick.
Do not compare all other men to Hepburn!

“This is my wing. I enjoy the family but value my privacy.”

She noticed that the chambers were not furnished in a starkly masculine style and wondered if that was a result of a wife’s influence. He looked to be about thirty, and Cat was curious about how long he had been widowed. She decided it would be impolite to ask and sipped her wine instead. When he led the way up a wide staircase, she followed and, before she knew it, found herself in a spacious master bedchamber with tall windows.

“My house faces the sea, though it’s too far off to see it; ye can smell the salt tang.” He opened the windows.

“Since Seton land goes all the way to the sea, wouldn’t it be a good idea to have its own port?”

“Someday.” He asked abruptly, “Catherine, why are ye here?”

She took a deep breath, reluctant to answer. She had been so happy that her grandfather had not asked, and that it had been unnecessary to confess that she’d been banished from Court as a result of her foolish plotting.

Because of her reluctant pause, Malcolm answered the question himself. “Ye are here to survey yer domain, of course. Geordie made you his heir, since yer mother showed no interest. Someday ye will be a wealthy woman.”

She raised her eyes to his. “I am already a wealthy woman.”

He took a step closer and ran his fingertip along the edge of her ruff. “Wealthy, aye, but perhaps not yet a woman?” He gazed at her mouth. “Are ye betrothed to an English nobleman?”

Catherine almost took a step back but decided against retreat. She lifted her chin and asked her own question. “Why do you ask?”

“It would be hard to stomach an Englishman owning Seton.”

Do you dream, Malcolm? Do you dream of becoming master of my domain by seducing me into marriage?
“No, I am not betrothed.”

He dipped his head and covered her lips with his in a kiss.

Catherine stood perfectly still and did not yield her mouth to him.
You think I’ve lived at the Queen’s Court all my life and not learned to handle seduction?

Malcolm raised his head, and then looked down at her. “Do ye want to slap me?” he asked huskily.

Catherine knew laughter was as effective as cold water to a male bent on intimacy. “Slap you over something as innocuous as a kiss between cousins? I like a man with a sense of humor.” She drained her wine, handed him the glass and strolled from the room. Downstairs again, she made a point of thanking Jessie profusely for her hospitality. “I shall write to Mother and tell her what a lovely welcome you have given me.”

When she arrived back at the castle she found her grandfather and Maggie in a small chamber off the great hall, where they had obviously taken supper and were now enjoying a dram of whisky.

“Catherine, my beauty, come an’ join us in a drink.”

“I will happily join you, but I’ve already had wine.”

“Wine? Ye’ve sadly neglected her education, Maggie. I’m about to give ye a lesson in how to appreciate Scotch whisky. Are ye game, lass?”

“I’ve never turned down a challenge in my life.”

“We’ll cut it with water until ye acquire a head fer it, then we’ll gradually make it stronger every night. By the end of summer, ye’ll be drinkin’ strong men under the table.”

“Oh, I won’t be—” She hesitated mid-sentence. She had been about to say that she wouldn’t be here until the end of summer, but didn’t want to say anything that might hurt Geordie. “I won’t be able to climb the stairs to my turret, if I’m legless.”

“Wheesht, I’ll carry ye if that happens.” He looked at Maggie and winked. “I’ll carry both of ye—one under each arm!”

“Is that by any chance a dice box?” Cat asked with interest.

Geordie laughed. “Shades of the Devil, ye want lessons in gambling too, d’ye, Lady Catherine?”

Cat pulled up a chair. “I do indeed, Lord Winton.”

It was two o’clock in the morning before the three dice players attempted the stairs. They finally managed, but only because they threw their arms about each other and climbed in concert.

Chapter Twelve

E
arly Monday morning, Patrick Hepburn, accompanied by four of his moss-troopers, rode to Seton. He had invitations from Queen Anne of Scotland for the Earl of Winton and his granddaughter, Lady Catherine Seton Spencer, to attend the Court entertainment planned for Saturday night and to join in the Royal Hunt on Sunday.

Four moss-troopers per week took turns patrolling Seton land at night to ensure none of the longhorns were stolen by reivers.

“Have there been any attempts to lift livestock from Seton?” Patrick asked Keith Hepburn.

“Nay, my lord. We expected it when we had trouble at Crichton an’ were ready fer the bastards, but no attempts made so far.”

“Good.”
That points the finger at someone with a personal grudge against me, namely the Armstrongs.

When the men arrived at Winton Castle, the four moss-troopers went to relieve the Hepburns who’d just finished their week’s patrol, while Patrick visited at the castle.

Geordie had once again taken breakfast with Catherine in the small dining room off the great hall, so that he could present her with a gift that had belonged to her grandmother.

“She wore it always, whether out riding or dancing in the ballroom. I know Audra would want ye to have it, Catherine.”

Cat ran her fingers over the small silver dagger whose chased handle and sheath were set with precious amethysts. “It’s lovely. I fancy having a weapon of my own! I shall treasure it because it belonged to Audra. Thank you, Geordie!”

“I think we have company, lass—something else to keep me from my outdoor work. I’ve neglected it shamefully of late.”

Cat followed her grandfather into the hall and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the tall figure of Hepburn.

“Lord Stewart, ye’ve caught me dawdlin’ about this morning.”

“Just look at what my grandfather has given me.” Cat displayed the knife proudly. “It belonged to my grandmother, Audra.”

Patrick grinned. “D’ye think it wise to give a weapon to a lady with such a volatile temper, my lord?”

“I refuse to be baited, Hepburn. In fact I believe a truce is in order between us.” She blushed when he looked into her eyes.

Geordie laughed. “Audra had a fierce temper when riled, but she never threatened me wi’ her knife more than a dozen times.” He winked. “What good is a woman without fire in her belly?”

“I’m here to bring you invitations from Queen Anne to attend a Court entertainment. The king said he hadn’t seen you in years.”

“That’s a splendid idea. Would ye like to go, Catherine? It’ll give me a chance to show ye off!”

“I would love the opportunity to visit the Scottish Court!” Cat read her invitation avidly. “Oh, dear, there is to be a hunt the following day. Queen Elizabeth hasn’t hunted the last few years. I’m not very experienced ... could I be excused, do you think?”

“Hunting is James’s passion, so he’ll think you fainthearted, but Anne and her ladies will understand your timidity, I’m sure.”

“I have no
timidity
in me, Hepburn!” Catherine flared.

“I thought you refused to be baited,” Patrick teased.

“If you must know the truth, I’ve only ridden sidesaddle.”

“It would be my pleasure to teach you to ride astride.”

If her cheeks had blushed before, now they positively glowed. She silently cursed her imagination and lowered her lashes.

“If you know how to handle a horse, there’s nothing to it. You’ll be able to master it in just a few miles. Crichton is only five miles distance. Come with me now, then I’ll escort you back.”

“She picked out a nice wee filly fer herself.” Geordie turned to Cat. “Go fer a gallop to Crichton; ye’ll be safe wi’ Hepburn.”

Catherine was far too impulsive to refuse. “I’ll have to change. Will you wait?”

“If you don’t take all day about it,” he conceded.

Catherine moved toward the stairs with dainty steps, torn between hurrying and dawdling to annoy the dominant devil. The minute he could no longer see her, however, she began to run.

“Maggie,” she cried breathlessly. “I’m riding to Crichton with Patrick. Which of my riding dresses has the widest skirt? I’m going to learn to ride astride. I’ve been invited to Court!”

Within minutes, Catherine, dressed in her hunter green riding dress, was pulling on black leather riding boots. Then she brushed her hair back and secured it with a pale green ribbon. “I shall wear the knife Geordie gave me. It belonged to Audra.”

“Here, let me fasten it to your riding skirt with this silver fan clip so you won’t lose it. I remember Audra wearing it.”

When Cat descended the stairs she found that the men had gone.

“If he left without me, I’ll never forgive him!” But when she arrived at the stables she found that Hepburn had saddled her horse. “Thank you.” She led the filly outside to a seldom-used mounting block and saw four rough-looking men garbed in leather ride into the yard. “I don’t want an audience,” she said softly.

“They are my moss-troopers.” He raised his voice, “No need to wait; we’ll follow you.”

When they rode off, Cat asked, “Which foot do I use?”

“The same one. Put your left foot on the block, bend forward and swing your right leg back over the horse.”

Though her skirt was restrictive, she managed to mount with grace and only a small flurry of petticoats. When she thrust her boots into the stirrups she threw him a triumphant glance.

“You’ll do better with practice.”

She had opened her mouth to deliver a cutting retort when she spotted Malcolm standing outside the stables watching her. His eyes were narrowed and he did not look pleased.

“Seems you have an audience after all,” Patrick observed.

“He must be glowering at you. That look of disapproval couldn’t possibly be directed at me,” she said lightly.