Love Wild and Fair

by Bertrice Small

  "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 Crich-ton. 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 cho'se her to serve ye is that I thought she would be a good influence on ye."

  "Oh," said the queen, feeling even sorrier for Christina Anders.

  "Francis Stewart-Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell," called out the major-domo. The queen turned to greet the new arrival.

  Chapter 19

  SAFELY in their coach, the Earl of Glenkirk turned to his wife. "I have never seen ye gie a better performance, Cat."

  "Would ya rather I had caused a scene and attacked yer mistress in public?" she asked him quietly.

  "I am sorry, hinny. I dinna mean to hurt ye. Who told ye?"

  "Ye did. The letter ye sent me was hardly that of a man longing for his wife. Ye hae put more warmth into yer correspondence wi the Kiras. One letter in all that time! Was she selling her wares on the dock when yer ship came into port that ye couldna find time to write to me? Jamie was devastated ye forgot his birthday! If Francis hadna left him the sword-"

  "Francis?"

  "Bothwell," she said. "He escorted us home to Glenkirk after the king left Edinburgh last year. His father and yer mother are cousins, so that makes him our cousin. He stayed till just after Twelfth Night. The children," she said with malice, "adore him, and yer brothers had a fine time wi him. He's a good friend, Patrick, I like him."

  "Perhaps, madame, I should inquire what ye were doing while I was away on king's business. Francis Hepburn is a notorious rake."

  "Dinna try to cloud the issue, Patrick! Francis is my friend, nothing more, and ye should not even have to ask. Besides, he is married. Can ye tell me that Mistress Anders is naught but a friend to ye? And the child she carries is nae yer bairn?"

  He had the grace to flush, and she laughed. "Patrick! Patrick! Only the Leslie women know the secret of preventing conception. Yer so used to me that ye got careless wi yer whore."

  Realizing that she wasn't too angry with him was a great relief. He would not tell her that Christina Anders had tricked him, hoping to have a greater hold on him. He had been tiring of the Danish girl and, knowing it, she had become pregnant. He had tried to make her stay behind in Denmark, but she refused to give up her post as lady of the royal bedchamber and threatened to cause a scandal if he told the queen. These things, however, Patrick Leslie would not tell his wife.

  "Do ye love this girl?" asked Cat.

  "God, no!" he burst out. "Damn, Cat! I am no courtier, and there I was alone in Norway and Denmark wi the Stewart court. Do ye know what they do all day? They dice. They drink. They play at games. They change clothes. Aye! Clothes are very important to them! They wench. It is still a source of amazement to me how frequently they change partners. They are the most useless people alive! Had I not found a Kira in Copenhagen, I would hae gone mad!"

  "A Kira?"

  "Aye, sweetheart! They've a bank in Copenhagen, and I was able to keep track of our business through them. It gave me something to do."

  Picturing poor Christina Anders waiting patiently while Patrick kept track of his ships and cargoes made the Countess of Glenkirk laugh. Then she asked, "Ye are sure the bairn is yers?"

  "Aye. Cairi is many things, but she's nae a wanton. The child is mine."

  "What will ye do about it, Glenkirk?"

  "I will acknowledge it, and see to its support."

  "And its mother? What will ye do about her?"

  "I told her from the first that I love my wife, and that our liaison was only a temporary thing. I meant it then and I mean it now."

  They had reached Glenkirk House, which was located just off the Cannongate, near Holyrood House. Cat swept in and up the stairs, bidding Mrs. Kerr a good day. The earl remained below while the servants fussed over him.

  Ellen was waiting for her mistress. "Is it true?" she asked. "Has the earl come home wi another woman? Well! Ye certainly need not feel so guilty now!"

  Cat whirled around. "If ye ever even hint at that again ye'll end yer days alone at Crannog! Do ye understand me, Ellie?"

  The bond of love between mistress and servant was strong. Realizing how deep the hurt done Cat really was, Ellen apologized. "I must be getting old and foolish, my baby."

  The countess caught her tiring woman's hand and squeezed it. Then her eyes twinkled. "Yer gossip is partly correct, ye nosy old woman! His Danish mistress is part of the queen's entourage, and quite an embarrassment to poor Glenkirk. She went and got herself wi child to try and hold him. Poor Patrick! He's been married to me for so long he's forgotten how treacherous women can be."

  "Will ye forgie him?"

  "Of course. He's come home to me, and he's quite ashamed at having been caught. As long as he discards her, I will be content Now, Ellie, see to my bath. I think that wicked new black silk nightgown will do. Glenkirk's about to receive a welcome he'll nae forget!"

  Ellen laughed. "The Danish girl may deliver three sons to the earl and she'd still nae have a chance wi him against ye, my lady."

  When Patrick Leslie entered his own apartments a short while later he found that his valet had prepared a steaming oak tub in front of the blazing fireplace. Stripping off his clothing, he said, "Burn them, Angus," and then climbed into the tub. The water was faintly perfumed and slightly oily. His winter-dry skin soaked it up. He sniffed appreciatively.

  "Oil of musk," Cat said, and he looked up to see her standing in the doorway that connected their bedroom. She walked across the room and, flinging off her black silk robe, mounted the steps and joined him in his tub. Putting her arms about his neck, she molded herself to him and kissed him hungrily. As her little tongue darted back and forth exploring his mouth, her hands fondled him beneath the warm water.

  He had needed little encouragement. The mere sight of her had roused him. Loosening his grip on her, he reached down and, cupping her buttocks in his hands, raised her. As her slim legs tightened about his waist he thrust deep within her. He heard her catch her breath. "Damn ye, Patrick! Did ye have to be away so long?"

  Much later they lay in their big bed, happy and content with each other. Cat slept naked, safe within – the curve of Patrick's arm. He lay awake wondering what had ever possessed him to get involved with Christina Anders when a clean whore would have served his purposes and given him no trouble.

  At Holyrood House, Christina Anders cursed the fact that it was too late to get rid of the bastard growing within her. To try at this stage of the game might kill her. One look at the Countess of Glenkirk had told her the battle was lost. And the fantastic act that the countess had put on for just her benefit! How she had known so quickly was a mystery to Christina, but that she had known was patently obvious. The Danish girl sighed and wondered what would happen to her, and to the child she carried.

  She did not have long to wonder. The following day the Countess of Glenkirk reported for duty as a lady of the queen's bedchamber. Anna took immediately to Catriona Leslie as to a charming and warm older cousin. No help there, thought Christina. Her aid, however, came from the most unexpected quarter. At the first opportunity, the Countess of Glenkirk separated Mistress Anders from the others. They walked in the park surrounding Holyrood House.

  "How far gone are ye?" asked Cat with her usual directness.

  Christina was frightened, but she stopped and looked up at the tall, beautiful woman. "Madame, I do not know what you mean."

  Cat took the girl's arm. "Listen, my dear, I hae been wed to Patrick Leslie for twelve years. We hae six children, and what
I guessed at, Patrick has confirmed. Now, when is the bairn due?"

  Christina's composure crumbled. "Autumn," she whispered.

  "Dinna fret, my dear," she heard the countess say to her. "Leslies take care of their own, and yer bairn is a Leslie."

  "The child is a bastard, my lady."

  "Pish!" said Cat impatiently. "Patrick's great-grandfather, the second earl, fathered a bastard son, the first of the More-Leslies. They have always served us since then. The More-Leslies are respected, and respectable. Your child will be taken care of, and ye need not worry. Yer lucky in that respect. Good God, girl! Why did ye nae pick an unmarried man who would possibly have married ye? Yer of good family."

  "I am married, madame. To my third husband, a boy of twelve. Even if my lover had been free to wed me, it would have taken too long to get an annulment, and I can scarcely claim a boy not yet potent as this child's father. I appreciate and will accept your aid, but my child will not be raised as a servant! He is of good blood on both sides even if he is not legitimate."

  Cat smiled. Christina Anders had given the countess the weapon she needed in order to control the situation. "Ye will be a good mother, my dear, and the Leslies will see yer bairn is raised as befits a noble bastard. However, if ye attempt to ensnare my husband again, I will see ye sent back to Denmark in disgrace and yer child will be sold East into slavery." So saying, the Countess of Glenkirk patted the girl's arm kindly and walked away.

  Christina shuddered. She had no doubt that Catriona Leslie meant exactly what she said, and could do exactly what she threatened. Christina did not love Patrick Leslie. He had merely been a refreshing change. She was not about to get into a fight with his countess over him Just as long as the baby was taken care of, she would be satisfied. The earl may have confessed his infidelity to his wife, but Christina would wager he had not confessed to all the presents he had lavished on her„ She chuckled. She had done quite well.