"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 yell 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 fetch Chancellor John Maitland here to me. If he'll but come to get me I will willingly return to prison this instant!"
The crowd broke into delighted guffaws, and several men ran off in the direction of the chancellor's house to return a few minutes later saying that the chancellor's servants claimed he was not at home. The crowd hooted with derision. Then Francis Hepburn flung a purse of crowns to them. When they had quieted, Bothwell said, "Tell Maitland I'll be waiting for him if he's brave enough to come after me! I’ll be in the borders! And to my cousin, Jamie the king, I send my deepest loyalty."
Valentine reared up on his back legs as Hepburn shouted, "A Bothwell! A Bothwell!" and galloped unmolested from the Nether Bow, the approval of the crowd reverberating in his ears.
Chapter 28
WHILE Bothwell and his party galloped off to the borders, John Maitland set to work to undermine him further with the king. Maitland was a brilliant statesman. Like other statesmen of his time he was, by necessity, ruthless. He wanted only one power in Scotland-the monarchy-for then he, Maitiand, could rule through the king.
For years the royal Stewarts had been plagued by their earls. They ruled only by the cooperation of their nobility. They scattered their bastards generously among the daughters of the upper clas
s, and then married those valuable bastards to the best families in hopes of joining themselves solidly to the powerful clans. They needed their great lords' support in order to rule unchallenged.
Maitland intended putting a stop to all this. He would break the power of these troublemakers. Beginning first with Bothwell on the borders, he would proceed to Huntley, the Cock of the North. If only, he sighed to himself, the great chiefs could be more like some of the smaller clan branches. He thought in particular of the Earl of Glenkirk, and his cousin of Sithean, a minor branch of Clan Leslie who had built up great wealth. They sought no political power, kept the peace on their lands, and rallied to the Stewarts in time of war.
The chancellor called for his coach and hurried off to Holyrood Palace to see the king. He found James in a panic, and the queen trying to calm him.
"How did he escape?" shrieked the king. "How? How? How? Edinburgh Castle is impregnable. Someone had to help him! I want to know who!"
"Sire, sire! Calm yourself," said Maitland. "Though no one saw Lord Bothwell leave, there is, I am sure, a logical explanation for his escape."
"No one saw him go?" whispered the king. "Witchcraft! Again he resorts to witchcraft!"
The chancellor hid a smile, pleased that his subtle inference had not escaped the king. But he had not reckoned with the queen.
"Nonsense!" she snapped. "I am sure the chancellor means nothing of the sort, do ye, sir? La, James! Do ye think Francis really flew out of his cell on a broomstick? More likely as not he bribed the watch! Men will do anything for money."
"His men won't," said the king sourly. "I've tried to buy information from them."
"Well," allowed the queen, smiling, "Francis is a rather special person."
"Is he?" asked Maitland, hardly surprised to find the queen in Bothwell's camp. Women were quite susceptible to the man's charm. Maitland did not understand it.
"Yes," answered Anna of Denmark, looking straight at the chancellor. "Francis Hepburn could charm a duck out of water."
"I want him found!" yelled the king. "I want him found, and brought back!"
"It will be done, your majesty. It will not be easy, but it will be done."
"If ye had gone to the Nether Bow this morning ye could have had him back in prison already," said the queen blandly. Her ladies giggled, and Maitland shot the queen a venomous look which she chose not to see.
"What's this?" demanded the king.
"Lord Bothwell rode to the Nether Bow earlier this morning, James, and offered to return to prison if our chancellor would but come and fetch him. The servants claimed he was not at home, but I understand he was at home, cowering in a cabinet."
The king began to chuckle, and the chuckle grew to laughter. "He outfoxed ye, Maitland!" chortled the king. "Trust Francis! He's a good fisherman, and he played ye like a salmon! He knew damned well ye'd nae dare venture out of yer house after him. He's made ye look a fool!"
"His behavior is an affront to the crown," snapped Maitland. "It undermines your majesty's dignity. He should be severely punished!"
"It undermines yer dignity, Maitland," said the king, but the chancellor's words had stung him. "How would ye punish him?" he asked.
"Forfeiture," said John Maitland promptly. "His offices. His estates."
"No! No!" cried the queen. "Francis is our cousin, James. I know he is reckless, and at times arrogant, but he is the kindest man I know-and he has always been your majesty's good friend. He has never conspired against ye, or lied to ye as others have."
"There are the charges of witchcraft, Annie."
"Ridiculous charges that no one believes! Your own peers are so offended by these charges that they will not even meet to try him! Please, my dear husband. Do not be harsh with Francis. He is our friend, and we have so few."
"We must make an example of this rogue!" thundered Maitland.
"Sir!" said the queen, angrily drawing herself up. "You quite overstep yourself!" She turned to the king. "I should be very unhappy, sire, if ye punished our cousin severely. 'Tis midsummer, and if I know Francis he has but run off to go swimming."
She made it sound so unimportant. James put an arm about his pretty wife. "Let me think on it, lovey," he said soothingly, and bent to kiss her.
The queen turned and, walking slowly to her bedchamber door, opened it. " 'Tis still early, Jamie. Dismiss Master Maitland, and come back to bed." Her blue eyes were innocent enough, but the look she gave him was very provocative, and the king felt a stirring in his loins.
Maitland was forced to retire for the moment. He was not one to give up easily. The queen had won this round by using her sex, a practice Maitland abhorred. He realized he needed something he could use against Hepburn which would anger the king and keep him angered long enough to allow for forfeiture proceedings.
Suddenly, memory pounced conveniently on the rumor about a woman who had ridden with Bothwell this spring. No one know who she was, but she was said to be very beautiful. Too, his spies had told him that when Bothwell had left for the border today, he had ridden with his bastard half-brother and a beautiful woman. Maitland didn't know whether knowledge of the lady would help him, but he felt he should have it. He sent for one of his most trustworthy men.
"Go to Hermitage Castle," ordered the chancellor, "and find out who Bothwell's woman is. I do not care how you get your information, but I must have it within a week."
Several days later the man returned and said to the anxious chancellor, "Lady Catriona Leslie, the Countess of Glenkirk."
"You are sure?" asked the amazed chancellor.
"I got it from her personal maid." The informant did not explain that he had lured the girl from the castle, tortured the name from her, and then cut her throat.
Maitland's memory leaped once again. The king's chamberboy had come into his pay, and he sent for the fellow. "What do you know of Catriona Leslie?"
Barra wrote his answer on the pad hanging from his waist. "She was the king's secret mistress, but she ran away from him. He still desires her." He tore the paper from the pad and handed it to the chancellor.
John Maitland read. Smiling, he handed Barra a small bag of gold. He was jubilant! Here was just the weapon he needed to destroy Francis Hepburn. But he had to be careful that his spies were absolutely correct.
Discreet inquiries over the period of a few days netted him the astounding information that Lady Bothwell had just been granted a divorce by the kirk. A further probe told him that the Countess of Glenkirk had applied for a divorce through her uncle, the Abbot of Glenkirk Abbey. The abbot was presenting her petition to the Scots prelate. Unable to contain his excitement, John Maitland hurried to Holyrood. By the time his coach had pulled into the courtyard, he had managed to calm himself somewhat. The king must not suspect that his chancellor knew his most intimate secret.
He waited almost the entire day until he was able to see the king alone. "I have," he said, "discovered an amusing sidelight to Francis Hepburn's life. I know the identity of the woman who's his latest mistress-the one who's been riding with him on raids."
James loved gossip. “Tell me, Maitland," he said impatiently. "Who is she?"
" ‘Tis the most amazing thing, sire. Of all the noblewomen in Scotland I would have said this lady was the least likely candidate for Bothwell's bed. He plans to marry her, and Lady Bothwell has just been granted a divorce by the kirk. The lady I speak of is in the process of gaining her own freedom."
"Yes, Maitland, very interesting, but who is she?"
"Why, 'tis the Countess of Glenkirk, sire. Lady Catriona Leslie. That lovely creature they call the Virtuous Countess here at court."
For the briefest moment James Stewart thought his heart had stopped. "Who, Maitland? Who did ye say?"
"Lady Leslie, sire. Glenkirk's wife."
The king looked sick, so Maitland chose that moment to ask permission to withdraw. But as he went he heard the command. "Dinna leave the palace tonight." The chancellor departed, smiling to himself.
Bothwell was as good as destroyed. Maitland hadn't missed the look of anguish in the king's face.
James paced his bedroom angrily. Francis Stewart-Hepburn was his nemesis and always had been. Four years older than the king, he had always been bigger, stronger, brighter. They were both handsome, but Francis was handsomer-almost godlike, with rugged good looks. James studied hard to acquire learning, but Francis sopped up knowledge like a sponge, easily and without strain. Women flocked to Bothwell. He was charming. James was quite uncomfortable with women, having been brought up in a male society where women were rarely included. In short, Francis was everything his cousin James longed to be.
Bothwell had gone too far when he had taken Cat Leslie from the king, and James would not forgive him that after all the rest. In bitter frustration, the king overlooked the circumstances under which Cat had fled him. All James chose to know at this point was that Cat had apparently offered Bothwell what she had refused the king. She had given Francis her heart.
He would stop the lovers. Cat would not get her divorce. lames would instruct Chancellor Maitland to speak to the cardinal about it. He also intended declaring his popular cousin an outlaw. His estates and title would be forfeit. Cat could hardly remain with an outlaw.
James was angry with Catriona Leslie. He had honored this insignificant highland countess by making her a lady of his wife's bedchamber. She had disappointed him badly. She was no better than any of the other women at court who spread their legs for a man with such ease.
John Maitland came later on, as bidden, hoping he did not appear too eager. His face was a study in impassivity as the king ordered that Francis Stewart-Hepburn, fifth Earl of Bothwell, be put to the horn and his estates confiscated. The following morning a royal herald publicly announced the king's decision to the people of Edinburgh. He was pelted with garbage by the outraged citizens. They hated having their hero brought down.
The king was feeling put-upon. The queen was not speaking to him and she had locked the doors to her apartments. Lady Margaret Douglas had forced her way into his presence, insisting furiously that the crown had no right to confiscate anything other than Hermitage. She waved a paper which she claimed proved that Bothwell had signed over all of his estates except Hermitage to their eldest son, the earl's legitimate heir.
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