Love Wild and Fair (19 page)

They did not, however, travel poorly escorted. Learning of her plans, Francis Stewart-Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, offered to escort her himself. She could hardly turn down James Stewart’s favorite cousin, and regent of Scotland.

Francis Stewart-Hepburn was a tall, handsome man with dark auburn hair, an elegantly barbered short beard, and piercing blue eyes. He was an educated man, unfortunately born in advance of his proper time. His amazing fund of knowledge and his many scientific experiments

terrified the superstitious—educated and uneducated alike. Though he alternated between new and old kirk, he was not a particularly religious man. Too, sad women trying to bring excitement into their lives by playing at witchcraft, had sometimes named Lord Bothwell as their leader. Francis Hepburn was therefore whispered to be a warlock. He was not, but rumors often persist.

Cat knew the rumor to be nonsense, but it amused Francis Hepburn’s macabre sense of humor not to deny it. Besides, it terrified his cousin James, who alternated between love and hate for Francis. For some reason the king brought out the devil in Bothwell. Although Francis was fond of his cousin, as one might be fond of a clumsy hunting dog, there were times when he simply could not resist playing on the king’s absurd fears.

James admired Francis and would have given anything to be like his tall, assured cousin. Consequently, in an attempt to impress the Earl of Bothwell, James had told him of his affair with the Countess of Glenkirk.

Though he congratulated his cousin on his good fortune, Francis was shocked. He himself had loved many women, married and unmarried, but he had never forced one as the king was forcing Glenkirk’s wife. That she was being forced he knew instinctively, for he was sensitive to people, and though she tried to appear her old self, he saw the faint darkness beneath her eyes and heard the hollow tone in her laughter.

Gallantly, he set out to become her friend and confidant. And he did. But something else happened that Francis Hepburn had not planned on. He fell in love with the Countess of Glenkirk, a state he was forced to hide from her and from his jealous royal cousin as well.

Cat had never had a man for a friend, but she enjoyed Francis Hepburn’s companionship greatly. He was a font of knowledge, and Cat rarely found anyone learned

to talk with. Since everyone assumed their relations were chaste, the court thought the relationship eccentric. All laughed to see the greatest rake at court and the most beautiful woman enjoying intellectual discussions.

The Earl of Bothwell’s lineage was an interesting one. His father had been John Stewart, Prior of Coldingham, an illegitimate son of James V—whose daughter, Mary Queen of Scots, began spelling her surname “Stuart,” a spelling that eventually prevailed in the royal line. Francis and James Stewart shared the same grandfather. The earl’s mother had been Lady Janet Hepburn, only sister to the last Earl of Bothwell, James Hepburn, who was Mary Stewart’s third husband. James Hepburn left no legitimate issue, and his title and estates had gone to his nephew, Francis, who added his uncle’s last name to his own as a gesture of respect.

Francis Hepburn’s father had died when he was scarcely more than a baby. Francis had only an illegitimate brother and sister. His mother remarried, and he was ignored in early childhood and then shipped off to be educated in France and Italy.

He had returned home to Scotland in his teens, an elegant, self-assured, educated man. He was quickly married to Lady Margaret Douglas, daughter of the powerful Earl of Angus. Lady Margaret was a widow with a son, and slightly older than Francis Stewart-Hepburn. She did not like her second husband, and he did not like her. Theirs was a marriage of convenience and they dutifully sired children to maintain the line, but between them there was not a bit of warmth. Margaret Douglas was relieved that her sensuous, oversexed husband sought other beds. She did not want him in hers.

The Earl of Bothwell, with a troop of fifty wild borderers, escorted the Countess of Glenkirk home. Conall was not sure he approved, but his lady’s safe journey was what mattered. Cat insisted that Bothwell stay at

Glenkirk a few days, and though he meant to stay but three or four, he ended up staying through Twelfth Night. Since the dowager countess had been a cousin to his father, he was considered a cousin himself, and treated as a member of the family. The Glenkirk children called him Uncle Francis, the boys following at his heels like admiring puppies and the little girls flirting outrageously with him. Bothwell adored it. His own children had been taught by their mother to give their loyalty and obedience to her alone, and he felt no kinship with them. Even Glenkirk’s younger brothers treated him with a rough camaraderie and called him cousin. The men hunted, wenched, diced, and drank with him. It was the closest thing he had ever had to a real family, and he loved it.

When he finally left, on the day after Colin Leslie’s sixth birthday, it was with great regret. But he had been left in charge of Scotland, and the time for self-indulgence was over. Bothwell was above all things a disciplined man. He left with Cat a small Damascus-steel sword with an exquisite openwork handle of Florentine gold scattered with tiny semiprecious stones.

“For your eldest boy’s birthday next month,” he said.

“Oh, Francis! It’s marvelous! Jamie will love it—though I know he’d rather ye were here.”

“I wish I could be, but I’ve indulged myself long enough, Cat Cheer up, my darling! The winter will go quickly, and Patrick will soon be home.”

“James has insisted that I come back to court when he brings the queen home,” she said, frowning. “I told Glenkirk I would hae no more bairns, but Francis, I swear I am going to do my damnedest to get wi child when my lord comes home! The only way I’ll escape James Stewart’s attentions is to be safe at Glenkirk, but I’ll nae get permission unless I am big in the belly.”

Francis Hepburn kissed her lightly and rode away to a long and lonely winter. And it was a snowy, gray,

cold, depressing winter. Had Cat not loved her children she would have gone mad, but she did, and their company saved her.

James Leslie celebrated his twelfth birthday, and if he was disappointed that his father seemed to have forgotten him, Francis Hepburn’s gift made up for it. They had had no word from Patrick in months, and though Cat knew he was safe, she missed him terribly. The nights were the worst. It was now seven months since she had seen him. Alone in their big bed she wept bitterly, and swore to herself that when he came home she would obey him, and not ever return to court. He had been right not to want to involve them with the royal Stewarts. What had it gained them. Separation and shame!

Spring came, a lovely, early, warm spring. The hawthorn and pussy willow were in bloom. The hillsides around Glenkirk sprouted in yellow and white, and Easter Sunday was sunny. The Glenkirk courier who had been with the earl in Denmark arrived bearing a pouchful of messages. There was even one with the royal seal that, opened, revealed her official appointment as a lady of the queen’s bedchamber. A small personally scrawled note enclosed with it from James himself stated that he expected to see her back at court when he got there. She tossed it aside impatiently and reached for the letter from her husband. It was short, almost impersonal, and she was disappointed.

“Beloved,” he wrote. “By the time this reaches ye we should be under sail and on our way home. It has been a long, hard winter here, and I have missed ye. The king’s wedding was performed in Oslo, but we returned to Denmark for Christmas, and have been here ever since. Tell Jamie that I am bringing him a surprise for the birthday I missed. I send my love to ye, and to all our bairns. Your devoted husband, Patrick Leslie.”

It was not the letter of a man hungry for his woman,

and Cat was furious. The bastard, she thought angrily, and wondered if he had taken a mistress or was simply tumbling an occasional doxy. If he did have a mistress, then she must be part of the court Would she be left behind, or would she be coming with them? “I’ll soon find out,” she muttered aloud. Damn! Here was a fine situation.

She wanted to get pregnant to escape the attentions of the king. Yet if she did, she would have to return home to Glenkirk, leaving Patrick at court to entertain his mistress. There was only one thing to do. She would have to get rid of the whore.

On May 1, 1590, James and his queen arrived at Leith in the lead ship of a convoy of thirteen. The road to the capital was lined with a cheering populace. Their pretty young queen sat comfortably ensconced in a gilded chariot drawn by eight white horses, each dressed in red velvet blankets embroidered in gold and silver thread.

In Edinburgh the nobility were assembled to greet Anna. Catriona Leslie stood with Francis Stewart-Hepburn as the royal progress arrived at Holyrood House. She immediately spotted Patrick lifting a petite woman down from her horse. The woman had silvery hair, and was dressed in pale-pink velvet trimmed with some kind of gray fur, probably rabbit.

“Ye were in Leith, Francis. Who is the wench Glenkirk is lifting down?”

Francis Hepburn smiled wolfishly and wondered how Cat had found out so quickly. “She is Mistress Christina Anders,” he said. “A childhood friend of the queen’s, and a lady of the bedchamber.”

“Who’s bedchamber?” snapped Cat “She’s at least four months gone wi child. Damn Glenkirk! I’ll roast him for this!”

Bothwell chuckled. “I am sure ye’ll find a way to get even wi him.”

“I will,” she replied grimly. Then, “Oh, Francis! I missed him so much! It’s been months since I last laid eyes on him. How could he?”

The Earl of Bothwell put a comforting arm about Cat. “Probably because he was lonely, and needed ye. So he took a woman to cheer him. ’Tis no great thing.”

“I was lonely too, Francis. I burned for him every night he was away—even when the king was wi me.”

“Dinna feel sorry for yerself, my darling,” said Lord Bothwell. “She may have had the fire to keep Patrick warm this winter, but she doesna hae the fire to keep him permanently. See how his eyes are scanning the crowd? He’s looking for ye.”

“I am sure he is,” she answered. “Looking to see if I’ve caught him wi his whore! God, Bothwell! Look how she clings to his arm! I’ll scratch her face to ribbons!”

Francis Hepburn chuckled deep in his throat. “If ye make a scene in public all the sympathy will be to
poor
Mistress Anders. However, if ye greet Glenkirk in good wifely fashion, the sympathy will lie wi ye. My wife always plays that game when she ventures out of Crichton. Everyone knows yer called the Virtuous Countess because of yer faithfulness and devotion to yer lord. If ye really want to get even wi him, play the part to the hilt!”

“Bothwell, I adore ye! Yer so wonderfully diabolic!” said Cat gleefully. “How do I look?”

His blue eyes swept over her with obvious approval. She was dressed on this cool spring day in a very simple mulberry velvet gown. It had long, fitted sleeves with ecru lace cuffs, and a small stiff ecru lace collar. She wore her famous pink pearls. Though she had four ropes of them, she wore only two. She had removed her matching cape, which was trimmed in sable. Her dark

honey-colored hair was caught up in a gold mesh net, and held with pearl and gilt pins.

“Dinna bat yer wicked green eyes at me, my darling,” said Bothwell in a low voice. “I need no encouragement to ravish ye. If Patrick doesn’t rush ye home to bed, he’s a bigger fool than I think.”

They had reached the reception room. Francis Hepburn squeezed Cat’s hand and then gave her a little shove toward the door. Giving her skirts a small shake and her hair a final pat, she nodded at the major-domo.

She walked through the door and down the center of the room to the foot of the two thrones. Her head was high, and she could hear the faint whispers around her. Gracefully she sank into a curtsy, her head bowing for just a second.

“Welcome home, my lord king, and to ye, dearest madame, a gracious welcome to Scotland from all the Leslies of Glenkirk.”

James Stewart beamed on her. “Cat! Yer as lovely as ever! Annie luv, this is Glenkirk’s wife, Cat Leslie. I hae made her a lady of yer bedchamber, so she’ll be serving ye now.”

Anna Stewart looked down at the countess and felt sorry for her friend Christina. Not only was the countess beautiful, but her expression was sweet and kind. “Thank you for your welcome, Lady Leslie,” said the queen.

“I will do my best to serve ye well, my queen,” said Cat. Then before she could be dismissed she turned again to the king. “A boon, cousin!”

“Name it, my dear.”

“It has been almost nine months since I have seen my husband, sire. Now that ye are so happy in yer own marriage, perhaps ye can understand how I feel. I hae not yet even seen my husband except from a distance. May I please take him to Glenkirk House for just this

night?” She cocked her head appealingly and smiled sweetly.

“Oh, James,” said the queen, “say yes! I give Lady Leslie my permission. Please give her yours.”

“Glenkirk! Where are ye?” roared the king.

The earl stepped forward, and as he did Cat saw the little hand that tried to hold him back. For a brief moment they looked at each other, then Cat flung herself into his arms and kissed him passionately. Unable to help himself, he kissed her back.

“God’s foot, Glenkirk! Take her home to bed,” chortled the king.

They turned and, bowing to their majesties of Scotland, walked from the chamber. Just before exiting, Cat turned her head ever so slightly and looked directly at Christina Anders. Passing Francis Hepburn, she winked.

“Why,” asked the queen of her husband, “do they call Lady Leslie the Virtuous Countess? I thought it was because she was cold, and only did her duty by her husband.”

The king laughed. “Lord, no, my innocent Annie! Cat Leslie is deeply in love wi her husband, and always has been. She is called the Virtuous Countess because, unlike so many women at this court, she will nae sleep wi any other man. She is a most faithful wife. They hae six bairns. The reason I chose her to serve ye is that I thought she would be a good influence on ye.”