Love Wild and Fair (8 page)

Several hours later Patrick Leslie knew that Ellen had been right. Cat was not at Greyhaven, and a check revealed that her jewelry and a generous portion of her father’s household gold was missing.

He rode to Sithean, and stopped at Ruth’s house in Crannog. Cat was not in either place. At Glenkirk his lovely mother berated him for a fool and demanded, in a voice he had never heard her use before, that he find Cat, and
her
expected grandson.

“James,” she said, “can run the estate for ye while yer gone. Adam and Fiona are, unfortunately, in Edinburgh. They are going to France to visit our cousins.”

“Mother, I dinna even know where to look for Cat.”

She looked at him pityingly. “Ye hae a bit less than six months to find her, my son. Else the next rightful Glenkirk will be born a bastard.”

Groaning with despair, he left the room. Cat Hay would have been terribly happy to see the desperate look on the earl’s face.

F
IONA Leslie pulled her hood over her beautiful face. Looking around to be sure she wasn’t followed, she slipped into the Rose and Thistle Inn. “I seek Mistress Abernethy,” she told the landlord.

“Up the stairs, to the right,” came the answer.

Fiona mounted the stairs. She had no idea who this Abernethy woman was, but when the urchin had shoved the note into her hand, curiosity had overcome good sense. She knocked on the door. Hearing a voice bid her enter, she did. The woman by the window turned. “Cat!” she gasped.

“Shut the door, Fiona, and come sit down.”

Fiona settled her black velvet skirts and looked at her beautiful cousin. “I thought Glenkirk held ye captive at A-Cuil? What do ye here?”

“I escaped him again, and I want yer help, Fiona.”

“God’s toenail, yer a fool, Cat!” she sighed. “I promised Adam that when we met again I would tell ye the truth. I never slept wi Glenkirk, though until his brother took me I was hot to.” She grinned ruefully. “As a matter of fact, he wouldna have me! There I lay—mother-naked on his bed—and he wouldna have me! All he wanted was ye. And that’s the truth!”

Cat smiled. “Thank you, Fiona. Thank ye for telling me. Patrick already told me he had not slept wi ye, and though I was inclined to believe him, I really do now.”

“Then what are ye doing here in Edinburgh? I’ll wager poor Glenkirk doesna know where ye are.”

“Nay, he doesn’t He’s probably looking for me now, but I’ll nae go back to him! Nae until he acknowledges me as a human being and nae a brood mare! Help me, Fiona! I know we’ve nae been close, cousin, but I hoped ye’d understand. Ellen said that ye and Adam leave for France soon. Let me stay in yer house. No one has to know, not even Adam. I’m safer there than anywhere else. Patrick will nae think to look for me in Edinburgh, let alone in yer house.”

Fiona chewed on her lip for a moment. Cat would soon be the Countess of Glenkirk, and a good friend to have. Still, if Adam learned she was helping Cat in her feud with his brother he would punish her again in that terrible way he’d twice used on her. Forcing her to watch him love another woman was the worst hell she had ever known, and she didn’t owe her cousin a damned thing now that she had told her the truth.

Cat stood up, and held her hands out, pleading. “Please, Fiona.”

Fiona’s glance caught a little swell of belly that Cat had certainly never had before. Comprehension dawned. “My God, coz! Yer carrying his bairn!”

“Aye,” said Cat bitterly. “Do ye know what he said to me, Fiona? That I was a ‘thing’ to get his sons on. I hate him!”

Fiona didn’t think Cat really hated Patrick, but she understood how she felt. These Leslie men were so damned proud. All Cat wanted from Glenkirk was acknowledgment of her status as a person. In a few months’ time he’d be frantic, and willing to agree to anything just so his son would be born legitimate.

Fiona felt the wait would do them both good. Besides, she thought, I really do owe my dear brother-in-law for slighting me. She turned to Cat and said, “The house is yers, sweeting, but I’ve already let the servants go.”

“I need no one.”

“Dinna be foolish, chuck. Ye need someone. I’ll send a note to Mrs. Kerr. She usually keeps an eye on the house for me when I am not here. I’ll tell her my poor widowed cousin, Mistress Kate Abernethy, is coming to stay, and would she please look after her. Have ye enough money?”

“I think so, and I’ve my jewels too.”

“If ye run short, or need to pawn something, go to the House of Kira in Goldsmith’s Lane. And Cat, go at once to see Dr. Robert Ramsey. He’s but a few doors from my house, around the corner on High Street. Remember ‘tis the heir to Glenkirk ye carry in yer belly.”

“Thank you, Fiona,” said Cat softly. Suddenly she leaned over and kissed her cousin’s cheek.

“We leave tomorrow morning,” said Fiona gruffly. “Come in the afternoon. Mrs. Kerr will let ye in and gie you the key.” She stood up. Pulling the hood over her face, she said, “Make peace wi Patrick soon, Cat The Leslies may be arrogant, but by God, they’re men!”

Late the following day, Cat moved from the Rose and Thistle Inn to Fiona’s house. The house had originally belonged to Cat’s and Fiona’s grandmother, Fiona Abernethy, wife to the first Earl of Sithean. The cousins’ mutual great-grandmother, the legendary Janet Leslie, had felt it fitting that the house go to Fiona Abernethy’s namesake, and so Fiona Leslie had inherited it.

It was not a large house. Built about seventy years before, it was a mellowed red brick, well covered with ivy on three sides. The basement held a good kitchen, a pantry, a still room, and a wash room with several large tubs for doing laundry. The main floor held a charming dining room, a formal parlor, a small family parlor that opened into the garden, and a full library. On the second floor were four bedrooms, each with its own dressing room. And in the attic were rooms for the maids.

The house had a small stable where Cat housed Dearg, and the garden was filled with flowers, herbs, and fruit trees. Set off fashionable High Street, it was quiet, and little traffic passed by.

Mrs. Kerr, a cozy, plump widow of middle years, was sympathetic. She had, she confided to Cat, once been in the same position. Her husband had been killed in a border skirmish with the English when she was six months pregnant. She had raised her boy alone, and a fine lad he’d turned out to be, too! He was apprenticed to a butcher now.

“Did my cousin, Lady Leslie, tell ye how my husband died?” asked Cat.

Mrs. Kerr shook her head.

“A border skirmish also,” said Cat sadly. “In the Cheviot only two months ago.”

“Aye,” said the other woman, nodding in sympathy. “I remember it. But they lost more lads than we did.”

Alone once again, Cat chuckled to herself. “Kate Abernethy” would soon be established. She had recognized Mrs. Kerr as a gossip—a kindly soul, but a gossip.

The following day, she took Fiona’s advice and visited Dr. Ramsey.

He examined her and then advised, “Unless there’s an emergency, ye’ll not likely need me, my dear. That’s a fine, healthy laddie yer growing there, and yer Mrs. Kerr should be able to deliver him with no trouble. But if ye should need me, dinna hesitate to send around.”

Settled into Fiona’s house now, Cat found she was enjoying herself. She was no longer sick in the mornings, and her appetite was picking up. Never in her entire life had she been so far from home. No mother. No father. No Glenkirk. No Ellen. No one to answer to except herself. Mrs. Kerr came each morning to tidy the house and see that she was properly fed, but she left before dark each evening.

As autumn advanced, Cat walked the more respectable streets of Edinburgh, exploring the town. Her dress was simple though expensive, her pregnancy obvious, and her manner modest No one bothered her. As the days grew colder she confined her walks to the garden or to short trips to market with Mrs. Kerr.

These outings fascinated her. At Greyhaven, food had simply been there. In accompanying her housekeeper, a whole world opened up to Cat Mrs. Kerr expanded this new world when she took Cat shopping for cloth to make garments for the baby. It was not long before Cat was saying, “Mrs. Kerr, I must go to the ribbon shop. I seem to be out of that lovely blue silk for the baby’s bonnets. Do we need anything at the butcher, since I’ll pass it on my way?”

Mrs. Kerr did not think it strange at all that her young mistress was so innocent of everyday matters. Cat had explained to the good woman that she had been orphaned early, and raised in a country convent It was a common story.

As the days grew shorter, Mrs. Kerr decided that young Mistress Abernethy should not be alone in the evenings. Her niece, Sally, was brought into the house to look after Cat Sally was twenty, and as plump and cheerful as her aunt Her presence made the evenings less lonely for Cat The two young women sewed, or Cat read to them before the fire. Cat liked her enough to ask her if she would stay on and help look after the baby. Sally was delighted.

Fiona and Adam celebrated Christmas in Paris with their Leslie cousins. The New Year brought greetings from Glenkirk. Adam shook his head. “He’s not yet found her. It’s as if the wench had disappeared off the face of the earth.” He looked at his wife. “Would ye ever do that to me, love?”

“Nay,” said Fiona, glancing quickly away.

Adam looked at her more closely. “My God!” he shouted.
“Ye
know where she is! Ye do! Don’t ye?” The look in his eyes was terrible, and Fiona panicked.

“She’s in our house in Edinburgh! She made me promise not to tell! I thought she would be home, and safely wed wi him by now!” Then Fiona laughed. “She’s got courage, has Cat! Good for her!”

“Ye know,” said Adam ominously, “how I’m going to punish you, Fiona, don’t ye?”

Fiona’s temper snapped. If Patrick could be brought to heel, then so could Adam. It wouldn’t hurt to try. “Ye do, Leslie,” she shouted back at him, “and I’ll spread my legs for the first man that comes through that door! I’ll nae be treated like a naughty child any longer!”

For a moment they glowered at each other, and then Adam laughed. “I dinna think ye and Cat were friends.”

“We weren’t, but we are now. We must both contend with Leslie arrogance. Your ass-eared brother called her a ‘thing on which to breed his sons.’ Do ye blame her for fleeing him? I don’t!”

“I’ve got to tell him, Fiona, else the innocent bairn will be born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

“I know,” she agreed. “The Glenkirk courier is still here. Send your message back wi him And Adam—tell Patrick to use Cat gently. She does love him, you know, but she wants him to love her for herself and not just for the children she can gie him. He must treat her wi
respect.
This was all his own fault.”

“I think,” he said teasingly, “that being married to me is good for ye, sweetheart Yer gaining in wisdom.” He ducked as a pillow flew by his head.

“Write yer letter, Leslie, and come to bed,” she answered him. “Cousin Louise showed me some fascinating pictures today, and I’m dying to see if we can do the same things.” She looked provocatively over her shoulder at him.

Adam Leslie gazed back at his lovely wife. “I shall be your most willing and eager pupil, madame,” he said, raising a rakish eyebrow.

T
HE Leslie courier had no difficulty in reaching the French coast from Paris, but once there he was forced to cool his heels. A nasty winter storm was brewing, and no captain was willing to set off across the North Sea. It wasn’t that the fellow minded holing up in the cozy little French inn. He enjoyed the hearty food and excellent wine. But he knew the news he carried was of great importance to the earl. Lord Adam had given him a gold piece, and told him the earl would give him another.

Finally one windy but sunny morning, the courier stood in the center of the taproom, holding the gold piece high. He announced, “This to the man who gets me safely to Aberdeen! And another from my master, the Earl of Glenkirk, when we get there!”

The coin was plucked from his hand by a black-bearded man. “If this wind holds, laddie,” he said, “I’ll hae ye there in no time!”

The courier reached Glenkirk on the morning of February 2. Not only did the earl replace the gold piece he’d been forced to spend, he gave his messenger two more. The seacaptain was rewarded as had been promised.

Patrick Leslie left Glenkirk on the afternoon of February 2. He stopped at the abbey and asked Cat’s uncle, Abbot Charles Leslie, to accompany him to Edinburgh.

“We’ll have to ride hard, uncle. Ellen says she’s nae due for at least two more weeks, but ye canna tell wi a first bairn.”

Charles Leslie nodded, went to his apartments and returned a few minutes later. The monk’s robe was gone. Abbot Charles had become a tall, hard man of forty-five, booted and ready to ride. “TU do better in Edinburgh,” he said, “if I dinna look like a priest in that heretic town.”

Several days later they stood in front of Fiona’s house in Edinburgh. Sally opened the door. Her eyes widened in approval of the two imposing figures.

“Is yer mistress at home?” asked the earl.

“She’s sleeping, my lord.” Sally wasn’t sure who this handsome stranger was, but there was no doubt in her mind that he was a lord.

“We will wait then,” said Charles Leslie, moving into the house. “I am her uncle.”

Sally put them in the formal parlor and went to get Mrs. Kerr. The housekeeper arrived a few moments later bearing a tray with wine and biscuits. “I am Mrs. Kerr. Might I know the nature of your business, gentlemen? My mistress is in a very delicate condition at this time.”

“She’s nae had the bairn?” Patrick’s voice was anxious.

“No, sir. Not yet, but within the next few days for sure.”

“Tell me, Mrs. Kerr,” asked the abbot, “are ye of the new kirk, or the old kirk?”

Years of religious feuding had made the townspeople wary. But for some reason, Mrs. Kerr trusted this man. Looking quickly around, she answered without hesitation, “The old kirk, sir.”

“I am the Abbot of Glenkirk Abbey,” the older man said. “This is my nephew, the Earl of Glenkirk.”