Love Wild and Fair (28 page)

“It’s been done. Darling Cat, ‘tis Midsummer Eve, and everyone will be celebrating.”

“Damn!” swore Cat “I should hae guessed! Fiona, tell yer servants that they may hae tomorrow off as well. Please do this for me. My lord will nae wish to be seen by other than you and me.”

Fiona agreed. “They’ll all be suffering the effects of too much ale, wine, and lovemaking, and be no use to me anyway. Oh, cousin! I am fascinated! Who is this man?”

“Bothwell,” said Cat softly.

“But he’s in prison!” said Fiona, and then her smoky-gray eyes widened and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

Cat had to laugh, but Fiona recovered quickly. “Ye
really
are the deep one! Are ye telling me that Francis

Hepburn is the man? Ye hae been wi him since ye ran away from Glenkirk? He is yer lover?” Cat nodded. “Damn me!” said Fiona. “Ye really hae all the luck! First Glenkirk, and then the border lord himself!” Her eyes glittered. “What is he like?” she begged. “Is he really a warlock? Does he make love like mortal men?”

Cat choked back a fit of giggles, for she could see that Fiona was quite serious. “Nay, cousin. Francis is no warlock or wizard, and he makes love very nicely, thank ye.”

“How did ye meet him, Cat?”

“At court. He was my friend then, not my lover.”

“He has a wife, Cat.”

“He is divorcing her as I am divorcing Glenkirk. We’ll be wed by year’s end, Fiona.”

“Does Glenkirk know about Bothwell? Does the King?”

“Nay. Neither of them does. Say nothing, Fiona. I would rather no one know until Francis and I are safely wed.”

“What should we do to prepare?” asked Fiona.

“Food, cousin! Francis eats ravenously when he’s elated, and outfoxing both Jamie and Maitland will make him jubilant.”

That evening, the servants gone, Catriona Leslie and her cousin Fiona waited. Cat assumed that Bothwell would not escape until late, when festivities were well underway. She was right It was close to midnight when there came a knock at the kitchen door. Cat flew to open it, and two muffled figures slipped quickly into the room.

Flinging his cloak off, Francis Hepburn grinned impudently at Cat “Good evening, my darling,” he said.

Tears glistened in her eyes as Cat stepped forward. “Oh, Bothwell!” Suddenly she stopped. “Christ in heaven!
What
is that stink?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I’m afraid my mode of conveyance from the castle was not at all elegant.”

“What was it?” she demanded.

He hesitated. “A dung cart.”

She stared at him. “A dung cart?”

“It had a false bottom,” he explained. “I hid there, while above me rested the contents of the entire castle stables.”

Cat looked directly at Hercules Stewart. “There’s a tub in the closet there,” she said. “Please get it out and fill it with hot water for his lordship.” She instructed the wide-eyed Fiona, “Get some of Adam’s clothes and put them in my room. Bring a dressing gown here.”

Hercules pulled out the hip bath while Cat began to heat water. When the tub was filled she took Bothwell’s clothes from him and flung them into the fire. Before she would allow him to climb into his bath she led him naked into the scullery and sluiced him down. Once he was in the tub she scrubbed him down with a stiff brush and washed his hair. “Thank God, no lice,” was her only comment Bothwell chuckled as he climbed from the tub at last and wrapped himself in a large towel.

She sat him by the fire to dry his hair. Fiona returned with a long, soft robe of lightweight wool, which Bothwell quickly slipped on. Then he caught Fiona’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Lady Leslie.” He spoke in a low, intimate voice that brought a blush to her cheek and caused her heart to beat fast “I thank ye for yer hospitality. I hope I’ll not inconvenience ye in any way.”

“ ‘T-'tis an honor to hae ye in my house,” stammered Fiona. “When yer ready we’ve a supper in the small dining room,”

“Ye’ll join us, of course,” said Bothwell, offering his arm to Fiona.

They had set on the sideboard a small meal of boiled shrimp, ham, ribs of nearly raw beef, roasted capon, a salad of cress and dandelion greens, hot bread, sweet butter, and fresh fruit There were brown ale, red and white wines, and whisky. Cat watched indulgently, barely nibbling as the earl stuffed himself. Sated at last, he sat back and sipped a glass of whisky.

She had sat next to him so she might serve him. Fiona was at the opposite end of the table with Hercules. Pushing back his chair, Bothwell said softly to her, “Come sit on my lap, my darling.” Cat settled herself comfortably. “Did ye miss me?” he asked gently.

“Aye,” she whispered. “I was so frightened.”

His mouth found her eager one and he kissed her passionately, feeling her lovely body come alive beneath his caresses. “Christ I’ve missed ye,” he muttered into her neck. “I had the money for whores, but I took nae a single one. I stayed true to ye, my darling, and I have nae done that before for any woman.” Her hands caught his and pressed them against her taut breasts. He felt the little nipples hard against his palms. He rose, cradling her in his arms. “I am sorry, my darling, but I canna wait tonight,” he said.

“Neither can I, Bothwell,” she answered him softly. “Take me to bed. I burn for ye!” He complied willingly, walking from the room with his beautiful burden.

Fiona had watched the entire scene, fascinated. She could not hear what they said, but the open desire between her cousin and Francis Hepburn was stunning. Her own breath quickened, her lovely breasts became swollen, her full lips were moist Guiltily, she looked up to see Hercules smiling a slow lazy smile at her. She blushed to the roots of her auburn hair, thinking, He’s

going to seduce me, and dear heaven, I am going to let him!

She tried to think of Adam and found to her horror that she could not even recall his face. Fiona stood up quickly and fled to the windows that opened on her gardens. She could smell the heady perfume of the damask roses, and silently cursed the fact that everything in the world seemed to be conspiring against her own sensuality. The air was charged with the passion created by Bothwell and Cat. Fiona was terrified by her mood, but at the same time she was elated.

Hercules was behind her now, putting an arm about her waist and drawing her back against him. He kissed her soft, bare shoulder, and then his fingers began to undo the bodice of her gown. Turning her about to face him, he pushed the gown from her shoulders and bent to kiss her lush, red mouth. Forcing her lips apart, his tongue ravished her mouth. For all her experience, Fiona nearly swooned. She made a token resistance, freeing herself to look up at him. “Sir,” she protested weakly, “I hae never been unfaithful to Leslie before.”

“How very admirable of ye, madame,” he drawled. “Where is yer bedchamber?”

“Upstairs to the left.” Fiona realized suddenly that the time for protest was long past. He picked her up as if she were a child, and carried her to her bed. As they moved up the stairs she suppressed a giggle. Why? thought Fiona Leslie. Why do I always end up wi the brother?

In the gray half-light of Midsummer Eve, Francis Hepburn made passionate love to Catriona Leslie until they fell asleep, exhausted. She woke at dawn to find him awake, watching her. Reaching up, she drew his head down to her breasts and cradled it there.
“Ye’ll
incinerate me wi that look, my love,” she whispered.

“I did not sleep well away from ye, Cat. I need ye,

my darling. I’ll nae leave ye again,” he murmured contentedly. Raising himself up slightly, he leaned over her and looked down into her face. It was wet with silent tears. Gently he touched her cheek. “Dinna weep, my sweetest love. We are safe together.”

“For how long, Bothwell? For how long? I am afraid! They will nae let us be happy.”

“Don’t, love. Don’t I am taking ye home to Hermitage today. Here ye are too close to James Stewart I think it frightens ye.”

She clung to him, pressing her slender body against him until his desire for her overcame everything else. He saw that she hungered for him as strongly as he hungered for her. Her green eyes glittered. Her soft, round breasts hardened. He could feel the trembling in her thighs. His laughter was soft “Dear Christ, yer my wench! There is no mistaking it! I never met a woman before who could keep up wi me—but ye do.”

She pulled his head down to hers. “Come into me, my lover,” she begged him, and then his mouth captured hers.

He was deep in the warm softness of her, straining to go further, feeling her strain beneath him as he released his boiling seed within her. As always—and it had never been this way with any other woman—he grew hard again inside her. He strove to pleasure this woman whom he knew loved him, and whom he loved above all others. His own delight was greatest when she cried out in joy.

Later, he cradled her in his arms, murmuring soft words and placing little kisses on her face, her hair, her throat He had missed her terribly. He had discovered that he needed her as he had never needed anyone before. He had always been a lone wolf. But now he had found a mate. And he was going to have to fight the king himself in order to keep her.

With the coming of the beautiful June dawn sounded the frantic tolling of the alarm bell at Edinburgh Castle. Bothwell sat up, instantly awake. “It took them long enough to discover me missing,” he chuckled. “Ah, this is going to spoil Jamie’s day.” He gently swatted Cat’s pretty backside. “Come on, Cat! Wake up! If we’re riding home to Hermitage, I want a good breakfast first!”

“I am nae awake yet,” she murmured, curling into a tight little ball.

He pulled the coverlet from her and began kissing her body. She stood it for a few minutes, then protested, “Damn ye, Bothwell! Ye could raise a corpse with those lips of yers,” and she climbed from their bed. He watched with pleasure as she washed and then pulled on her riding clothes. It pleased him to note that she wore the gold-and-topaz chain he had given her.

“We’ll eat in the kitchen, my lord. Shall I wake Hercules, or will ye do it? I’ll wager a gold piece he’s in Fiona’s bed. I know for a fact that she’s been faithful to Adam all their married life, but if she could resist that brother of yers and his passionate looks last night, I’ll make a pilgrimage to Iona!”

Bothwell’s laughter rang loudly. “No wager, Cat! If he’s not in her bed, I’ll go to Iona wi ye! Hercules is a winning rascal.”

They opened their bedroom door and walked quietly across the hallway to the opposite room They heard nothing. Cat gently opened the door and peered into the chamber. Hercules awoke at once and grinned wickedly at them Fiona was curled naked in a corner of the bed, sleeping soundly and looking very tousled.

Closing the door again, Cat’s mouth twitched with silent laughter. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she whispered, and ran lightly down the stairs.

The earl went back to their bedroom, where he

shaved and bathed as best he could using the china basin. Finished, he went downstairs and discovered that Cat had ready a tempting breakfast of oatmeal, cold ham, and bread. Hercules was already seated at the trestle eating heartily and washing it all down with brown October ale. Bothwell joined his half-brother. After Cat had served the men she sat down with them and ate with her usual enthusiasm.

When he had finished the earl pushed back his chair. “Hercules, I want ye to take Cat to the edge of the city by the Lion Tavern. Wait there for me.” “Where are ye going?” demanded Cat “I hae a wee bit of unfinished business. Dinna fret my darling.”

“Ye should nae allow yerself to be seen, Francis. Ye deliberately bait Jamie.”

“No one will harm me, my love.” He drew his brother from the kitchen. Cat could hear only the murmur of their voices, and then laughter.

Sighing, she collected the dishes from the night before and this morning, and washed them all in the scullery. There must be nothing misplaced, nothing to give servants cause for gossip. When she returned to the kitchen, Bothwell was putting on his cloak. “Come kiss me, my darling,” he said.

“Ye promise me ye’ll be safe?”

“Aye, wench! I’ll be safe. Now ye must leave wi Hercules in ten minutes. Be sure Fiona knows to keep silent.”

Cat laughed. “Fiona will nae admit to even having met ye, let alone sheltering ye. Adam would beat her black and blue! I’ll wager he knows yer brother’s reputation.”

Bothwell grinned at her. “I’ll be wi ye soon, my love.” And in a second he was out the back door into the stableyard, where Hercules was holding a prancing Valentine.

Cat left the kitchen and hurried up the two flights of stairs to Fiona’s bedroom, carrying a tray with wine, bread, and a small honeycomb. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she called to her cousin. Fiona mumbled and snuggled down into the feather bed. “I’m leaving, Fiona. Bothwell and I must go home to Hermitage this morning.” She put the tray on the bedside table. Fiona sat up. “My God!” said Cat “Ye look like a castle surrendered after a great battle.”

“I feel like it” answered Fiona. “Hercules lives up to his name.” Suddenly she blushed. “Christ Cat! Dinna tell Leslie! I’ve nae been unfaithful to him ever before. I dinna know what came over me.”

“I do,” returned Cat laughing. “I’ll nae tell on ye, cousin, if ye’ll nae tell on me.” She bent down and hugged Fiona. “Be good, and if ye need to get in touch wi me, the landlord at the Oak and Thistle can get a message to Bothwell.”

“God go wi ye, Cat” Fiona said.

Bothwell, meantime, was riding through the city making sure he was plainly seen by the populace. A crowd began to follow him He heard their excited voices behind him.

“'Tis Bothwell!”

“'Tis the border lord himself!”

“Francis Hepburn!”

“He’s escaped the king!”

“Did Jamie really think he could hold Bothwell?”

“Bless me, Mary, he’s as bonnie as they say!”

The earl rode to Nether Bow, where he brought his horse to a stop. The crowd kept a respectful distance, wary of Valentine’s sharp hooves. “A good morrow, good people of Edinburgh,” his deep voice boomed.

The crowd shifted, the spectators punching at each other genially and grinning.

“Is there a man here,” said Bothwell, “who would earn an honest gold crown? A crown to him who’ll