Virginia Henley (32 page)

“I don’t want you in Scotland! I’m sending you back to London.”

Catherine stiffened. Hepburn’s rejection was unendurable. She saw her grandfather appear and saw the two men exchange brief words, their voices too low to be overheard. Cat turned and blindly made her way back up to her chamber.

“Geordie, I have reason to believe Catherine’s life is in danger. She will be much safer at home in England.”

The earl’s face turned purple; he crashed his fist on his desk. “Who dares threaten her?”

“The question I ask myself is,
Who gains from her death?
The answer is,
Your eldest nephew, Malcolm Lindsay.
”

“Malcolm has threatened her?” Geordie was aghast.

“I was escorting Jenny Hepburn home from here yesterday. Because she was wearing Catherine’s cloak, I believe she was mistaken for your granddaughter. She was wounded by this arrow. I am convinced she was shot by Malcolm Lindsay.”

Geordie looked at the arrow. “Did ye witness him shoot her?”

“If I had, he’d be a dead man.”

“Is it a mortal wound?”

“Nay, the lass caught it in the arm. She will survive.”

“I find yer accusations impossible to believe. If it is his arrow, it was a huntin’ accident,” Geordie said with conviction. “Mayhap it was meant fer ye. Ye’re not without enemies, Hepburn.”

“Are you willing to take a chance with Catherine’s life?”

“Never! Home she goes, but I’ll not have ye accuse my nephew without proof, man. Both Catherine and myself would ha’ to be dead before Malcolm would inherit.”

“Exactly, Geordie. I advise you to watch your back.”

The Earl of Winton’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the warning. “Do you intend to escort Catherine an’ Maggie back to London?”

“No, I’ll take them to Edinburgh and put them in the care of Robert Carey, who is returning to England tomorrow.”

Geordie nodded. “The sooner she’s out of harm’s way, the better. I’ll just go up and have a word with her.”

Geordie knocked on Catherine’s door and a grim-faced Maggie let him in. For a moment no one spoke, and then he broke the awkward silence. “I want ye to pack yer things with all speed. There is a possibility that it’s not safe fer ye here at Seton. Hepburn will escort ye to Edinburgh and Robert Carey will escort ye to London.” He held up his hand when he saw that Cat was about to demand answers. “I can tell ye nothin’; the suspicions are not mine, but I want ye to know how much yer visit has meant to me. I cherish the time we spent together and hope ye will come again in the future when the danger has passed.” He hugged Catherine, then he did the same with Maggie. “Take care of each other.”

When he left, a furious Cat, with hands on hips, told Maggie, “I don’t believe it. He’s taking orders from Hepburn! Lord Bloody Stewart wants to be rid of me!”

“He must have a reason, my lamb.”

Chapter Nineteen

C
atherine dragged out her trunks and began packing with furious speed. Inside, her hot anger slowly turned into an icy carapace around her heart. She would not let the hurt touch her; she would distance herself from the pain of rejection, aye, and keep herself aloof from the cruel monster who inflicted that pain.

When she and Maggie had packed everything they owned, she picked up Tattoo and cuddled her. “I won’t take you away from the home you love, but I will think of you every day. Goodbye, puss.”

Cat swept down the stairs with her traveling cloak over her arm and Maggie at her heels. Though Hepburn was in the hall with Geordie, she did not address him. Instead she spoke to a servant.

“Kindly inform his lordship that our trunks are upstairs.”

The servant approached Patrick, who had obviously heard Lady Catherine’s words. Hepburn waved him aside, gave Cat a level look and then took the stairs two at a time. While he was gone, she took the opportunity to put her arms around Geordie.

“Good-bye, Granddad. Thank you for everything. I promise I shall come back to Seton again.” To allow Maggie and Geordie to say their good-byes in private, she went outside to await the carriage that was being readied, displaying deliberate indifference about how Hepburn would cope with all their luggage.

When Patrick helped Maggie into the coach, he glanced at Catherine. She was sitting ramrod straight with her eyes fixed on a distant mountain. Hepburn was not in the habit of explaining his decisions to women, but in her case he would have made an exception. He would not tell her about Jenny, because he didn’t want to alarm her, nor have her feel guilt. He did want to alert her to danger, however. He saw this was not the moment and clamped his mouth shut. If he spoke, Hellcat would use the opportunity to coldly rebuff him. He mounted Valiant and told the driver to make all haste to Edinburgh.

With each mile, his premonition of trouble grew stronger. Since previously his sixth sense had not warned him of danger to Catherine, he assumed the menace was a threat to him or Crichton. He touched the long dagger and the dirk in his belt as his eyes scanned the horizon. The sunny day and blue sky did not lend themselves to foreboding thoughts, and his mind began to explore why he had not sensed the impending danger to Cat.

If Catherine was a part of me, I should have been aware of her peril. I lusted for her and her lands, but I did not allow myself to love her—not until now. Stop being fanciful, Hepburn—to love someone is to lose them.
He glanced at her profile in the carriage window. She was easily the most beautiful, elegant female he’d ever known.
Love or lust, I don’t intend to lose her or her lands. This is a temporary separation. The queen won’t allow her to wed, so she will be safe until she comes of age in March. By then Elizabeth will be dead and Catherine will be mine!

 

When the coach driver pulled into the courtyard at Holyrood Palace, Catherine was mildly surprised. Had Robert truly gone to London and back in just over a week? And more to the point, why was he again visiting the Scottish king? Cat smelled intrigue. She watched Hepburn dismount and approach their driver. She deliberately listened to what he said.

“Look after the ladies’ trunks while we are in the palace. It may be some hours before you can transfer them to the other traveling coach.” Patrick gave the driver money for his trouble. He opened the carriage door, and since Catherine sat immobile as a rock, he helped Maggie descend.

“Would you tell m’lady that I am taking her to Queen Anne while I conduct my business with His Majesty?”

Catherine alighted daintily from the coach and addressed Maggie. “I would ask you to give m’lord my condolences that he must deal with such a shabby excuse for a monarch in his pigsty of a Court, if the swine did not fit in so well.”

He did not take the bait. “This way, ladies.”

When they arrived in Anne’s spacious rooms, her ladies squealed and flocked to Hepburn’s side. “Patrick, it’s been a fortnight!” Another asked coyly, “Will you stay until tomorrow?” A third flattered with a double entendre: “I swear you’ve grown an inch.”

The queen gave him a radiant smile and beckoned them. “How lovely to see you, Lady Catherine. Give your cloak to Margretha and come and sit beside me. I hope you will stay for lunch?”

Cat sank into a graceful curtsy. “You honor me, Your Majesty.”

Patrick kissed the queen’s fingers and whispered in her ear.

“Take your time, my lord; it will give us a chance to visit.”

Hepburn cast a warning glance at Cat before he left, and she raised her chin in icy defiance.

As he made his way to James’s Privy Chamber, Patrick could not shake the sense of a threat. He hoped it was not connected to the king or Robert Carey in any way. When he arrived in the anteroom, the man he had been thinking about sat awaiting a second audience. “Good to see you, Robert. I trust your family bore up and got through your father’s funeral, which I imagine was well attended?”

“Aye, even though Elizabeth was too tight-fisted to declare an official day of mourning, most of London was there.”

“Cecil sent you back immediately, which I shall take as an auspicious sign for our future fortunes. Robert, I need a favor, but it can wait until our business with James is done.”

Just then the inner door was opened and Hepburn was told the king wished to see him alone. He shrugged his shoulders at Robert and entered James’s sanctum.

“Where the de’il ha’ ye bin, Patrick, lad?” James demanded petulantly. “It’s no’ politic tae keep yer old dad waitin’.”

Since the king often referred to himself as
yer old dad
when speaking with his younger courtiers, Patrick didn’t blink an eye. “Forgive me, Sire. I won’t insult you with an excuse.”

“Cecil’s letter is most encouragin’. He suggests we take someone we can wholly trust intae our confidence and send him tae England as my ambassador. Right away I thought of my old playmate Johnny Erskine an’ would like yer thoughts on my choice.”

“The Earl of Mar is an excellent choice, Sire. If one ambassador is good, two might be better. I take it upon myself to suggest a second man of utter dependability. Edward Bruce, the Abbot of Kinross, the judge who is Lord of Sessions, has served you in successful missions in the past and will be invaluable when you become King of England.”

“True! Bruce made a good impression because he likes the south and envies the English judiciary their fees and perquisites.”

Patrick hid a smile. Royalty always thought in terms of money. An inner voice mocked,
As do you, Hepburn.
Another answered,
Am I not descended from royalty?

“I’ll suggest the two men tae Cecil. Let’s ha’ Carey in.”

Patrick opened the door and beckoned Robert inside.

“I meant tae offer ye my condolences earlier, Carey. Lord Hunsdon was a braw mon tae produce ten offspring, I ken.”

“Ten
legitimate
offspring, Your Majesty,” Carey replied dryly. As James roared with laughter, spraying spittle in every direction, Robert made a mental note to not amuse James in the future.

“I’ll ha’ a reply fer Cecil wi’in the hour. Are ye willin’ tae start back tae England today, Carey?”

“Perfectly willing, Your Majesty.”

“Off ye go, then. Patrick will amuse ye fer an hour.”

When they left the king’s presence, Patrick quipped, “I’ll amuse you if you won’t spit on me, Robert.”

“James fascinates me. I have to stop myself from staring!” Robert confessed. “What is the favor you need?”

Patrick sobered. “I want you to take Catherine back to England with you. Though I have no proof, I am convinced she is in danger at Seton. I suspect Geordie’s nephew is lusting to become the Earl of Winton’s heir.”

“Good God! Does Catherine know?”

“I have not revealed my suspicions because I don’t want her frightened. I’ve told her only that she will be safer at home. Of course I informed her grandfather of what I suspect. I may not have convinced him, but he agrees that Catherine must go home.”

“Thanks for keeping your eye on her and guarding her safety.”

“I have an agenda, Robert.”

“And how does Catherine feel about you, my friend?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Patrick Hepburn is an uncivilized brute! I rue the day I ever laid eyes on the savage, uncouth Scot in the woods at Richmond.” Cat and Maggie sat across from Robert as his traveling coach set out from Holyrood Palace.

“When we met at the hunt, a fortnight ago, I thought you were enjoying your sojourn in Scotland.”

“Oh, Robert, I absolutely adore Scotland. I love my grandfather and wish I’d known him all my life.” She opened her cloak to show him her amethyst dagger. “He gave me this. It belonged to Audra, my grandmother. I saw her portrait and was amazed that I look exactly like her. No one ever told me; not even Maggie!”

“And of course you tell me everything, like Lady Carey not being able to chaperone you at Crichton,” Maggie said sweetly.

“I’m sorry Liz didn’t return with you,” Cat said ruefully. “I would have enjoyed her company on such a long journey.”

“I left her at Widdrington. She has an estate to run.”

Cat pounced immediately. “I was surprised to learn you were again at Holyrood. Is there intrigue you are keeping secret?”

“Nothing so interesting. Just mundane Border warden business, I’m afraid. I was delivering reports from Philadelphia’s husband, Lord Scrope, who as you know is Constable of Carlisle Castle.”

Cat was about to dig deeper, for even Philadelphia said her husband, Thomas, was crooked as a corkscrew and dabbled in intrigue, when the coach stopped so quickly, she was thrown to the opposite seat. “What on earth has happened?”

Robert reached for the handle and was halfway out the door when it was wrenched from his hand and thrown open to reveal six burly Borderers who were armed to the teeth.