Love Wild and Fair

by Bertrice Small

  "Nonsense," laughed Fiona. "Ye simply jog yer hips and roll yer head a bit. Then ye moan and breathe heavily. Most men are so intent on their own lust that they rarely notice whether a woman is really enjoying herself. Look, Cat, 'tis only a few nights. He will be gone after the wedding. Hold him tight, and tell him how marvelous he is, and that ye love what he does to ye. Ye know how, cousin."

  "I think so, Fiona, but 'tis nae for a few nights. He has ordered me to court come spring."

  "Hell, Cat! Why tell me that? Ye dinna intend going. Ye'll do what I would do if this were my dilemma. Ye’ll run to Bothwell! And if ye don't, then yer the biggest fool I've ever known! Is it any wonder ye feel nothing for Jamie, having had Francis Hepburn between yer legs? Now, there's a man!"

  Cat laughed delighted. "I'm glad we are friends, Fiona! Yer so deliriously sensible. Jesu, though, coz! I was so frightened last night! Jamie was' randier than an old billy goat. And I felt nothing!"

  Fiona's mouth twitched with amusement. "What did ye do?"

  "I cried, and Jamie thought my tears were for Patrick. He soothed me by saying that Patrick would be relieved to know I was 'safe' wi him! Can ye believe the man?"

  Fiona choked on her wine. " 'Tis a wonder Glen-kirk's ghost didn't rise up and kick the king's royal ass!" Then she said, "Well, 'twas a good start. If Jamie detects any reluctance on yer part now, he will believe it stems from yer inability to accept Patrick's death."

  Cat looked worried. "Is it Jamie, Fiona, or is something the matter wi me?"

  " 'Tis Jamie," Fiona said without hesitation. "Ye've ne'er been a cold piece. Leslie women never are. Oh, ye and I may be the most obvious in our sensuality, but dinna think that because they look so prim and proper those milksop cousins of ours are cool. My poor brother, Charles, is exhausted from all the demands of dear Janet, and I understand yer own brother has been known to flee his eager Mary on occasion. Why, I have it on the best authority that our brother-in-law James must service Ailis daily else she flirts wi the stableboys!"

  Cat collapsed on the bed, helpless with laughter. "Oh, Fiona!" she gasped. "How will I ever look Janet, Mary, and Ailis in the eye again wi'out laughing? What a wonderful bitch ye are, coz! And just how do ye know all of this?"

  Fiona raised an elegantly plucked eyebrow. "I hae never been unfaithful to Adam, if that's what yer thinking," she said, and then her cheeks reddened with a memory she shared with Cat. "Well… only once," she amended softly. "I am simply the kind of woman men talk to, Cat."

  For a moment the two women were silent, and then Cat spoke again.

  "Can I do it, Fiona?"

  "If anyone can," Fiona replied, "ye can! Cousin Jamie, in taking one kind of happiness from ye, has unwittingly given ye another. Go after it, Cat Leslie! Dinna let anyone stop ye this time!"

  Chapter 41

  GLENKIRK Castle filled to the bursting point as the wedding day drew near. The Earl of Huntley was a power to be reckoned with in Scotland, and the presence of the king put a special seal on the whole affair. The guests overflowed into the dower house, into the very eaves of the castle. Cat had even been forced to allow some ladies and their tiring women to sleep in her antechamber. Her body servants were doubling up in Susan's room in order to free two small rooms. Servants who had accompanied guests were sleeping in every available nook and cranny.

  Fortunately the December weather was good, and the guests were able to spend their days out of doors, hunting with the king, who had a passion for it. Cat did not enjoy hunting and used the excuse of wedding preparations to avoid it. But Meg and the Gordons, along with the younger family members, rode daily with James. The king was delighted with the elder dowager of Glenkirk, whom he now addressed publicly as Aunt Meg. She rode knee to knee with him each day, rarely leaving his side. Young Jemmie also showed an admiration for James, which pleased the king greatly. He enjoyed this healthy, normal family. Once Cat's position in his life became public he intended including them in his own growing family.

  To Cat's immense relief, the king was too busy during the next two evenings to visit her. What she was not aware of was that her son Jemmie had slipped a sleeping herb into the king's wine. James Stewart was scarcely into his night shirt before he fell asleep.

  On December 18, however, the king insisted that Cat ride with him. As she detested the long riding skirts that fashion decreed, she wore what she always wore when riding-men's green trunk hose, high leather boots, a leather jerkin, white silk shirt, wide belt, and a wide, heavy Leslie plaid to wrap about her in case of very cold weather. Tucked into her belt was a jeweled dagger, and she wore soft leather gloves.

  The men of the party were of one mind: Catriona Leslie looked marvelous. Not only had she handsome breasts that jutted out as impudently as a young girl's, but she had a damned fine well-turned leg. The younger women admired her daring. Among the older ones, there were those who thought her costume shocking, and those who were amused by the countess' apparent eccentricity.

  Though Cat detested the sport, she rode like a young Diana. At the kill, it was Cat who leaped from her horse and drove the dogs back with a small but fierce rawhide whip. What no one knew was that she had learned to handle the dogs in order to avoid seeing some beautiful wild creature's throat cut. The dogs took all her concentration.

  They had killed but two does and a stag when the king ordered an end to the hunt. His amber eyes burned with desire as he looked upon the Countess of Glenkirk. The huntress had roused the king's passion, and to Cat's embarrassment, he did nothing to hide it. The men now eyed her boldly, and she knew they wondered if the king would bed her. The women looked at her with something akin to envy, for James Stewart had never publicly sought any woman but his pretty young queen. To be a king's mistress was considered an honor. Cat was distressed. She wanted no public acknowledgment of the king's feelings towards her.

  To break the tension she swung back into the saddle and, looking boldly about, declared in a loud voice, "Ten gold pieces there's nae a man here who can beat my lolair back to the castle!" And pulling her horse about sharply, she kicked him into a gallop.

  A dozen men-the king included-galloped after her. Adam Leslie turned to his wife, who was biting her lip with laughter. "She thinks to cool his ardor," said Fiona in a low voice to her husband, "but she only inflames him all the more."

  Cat bent low over Iolaire's neck. The big golden-bay gelding moved with smooth strides, easily outdistancing his pursuers. "Go, my great, gold love," she crooned at him. "None can beat ye!" Suddenly she saw a dark, wicked-looking beast drawing up alongside her. It was the king's midnight-black stallion. James was a magnificent horseman, and he was determined to win. But Cat was not the type of woman to give him victory. He would have to take it if he could.

  A dozen horses thundered down out of the forested hills onto a flat stretch of road that led to the castle. Wild highland yells rent the air, and it seemed that sparks flew from the flying hooves as they struck the frozen ground. On the castle battlements, Glenkirk's men-at-arms cheered their lady as the bay led and roared disapproval as the black gained. The men shouted as the bay pulled ahead again and galloped across the lowered drawbridge into Glenkirk's courtyard, followed just a second later by the king on his black, and a minute later by the rest of the party.

  Cat leaped lightly from her saddle, tossing the reins to a stableboy. She rubbed the bay's muzzle and whispered something in its ear. Running up the steps, she turned.

  "I'll be collecting the gold ye all owe me this evening, gentlemen!" And she laughed at their expressions. "Ah, Sandy," she teased Lord Home, "ye know Iolaire's speed. Of all people why did ye take my wager?"

  "That damn new gray of mine was supposed to be so fast, Cat," muttered Lord Home irritably.

  Laughter greeted his remark, and Cat called again, "There's meat and wine in the great hall, gentlemen. Eat hearty!" And she disappeared into the castle.

  Laughing and talking, the noblemen dismounted and trouped up the steps into the great h
all. It wasn't until they had poured themselves great goblets of sweet, golden wine and were tearing off chunks of meat and bread that they noticed the king was not among them. Looking about him, one man observed, "Looks like Jamie's not through riding for the day."

  "Aye," murmured another softly but distinctly, "but I'd surely rather mount and ride that honey-haired mare than that wild black brute of his."

  There was laughter, and then someone observed, "I wager the mare is wilder than the stallion."

  "But sweeter!" shot back another man.

  Laughter rang as each of the noblemen tried to mask his thoughts about the beautiful Countess of Glenkirk.

  James Stewart mounted the stairs to Cat's apartments two at a time and strode angrily into her bedroom. Naked but for her silk shirt, she showed no surprise as did the frightened face of her maid. "Go along, Susan dear. I'll call ye when I need ye." The girl fled the room.

  "Well, Jamie?" Her glance was haughty, and only the jumping pulse in her throat revealed her nervousness.

  "Vixen!" he snarled, his face dark with anger. "You wanton vixen! Ye had the whole pack of them after ye like dogs after a bitch! Ye belong to me, Cat! I'll hae no other man imagining what 'twould be like to be between yer legs!"

  He was in a high rage.

  Lunging, he ripped away her silk shirt and shoved her back onto her bed. He was on her instantly, his knee forcing her thighs apart. Astounded, and equally angry, Cat fought back. She tried to claw him with her nails, but he caught her wrists with one hand and held them fast above her head. She twisted furiously beneath him, but James thrust his hardness into her unwilling and unready body. She cried out with pain and renewed her struggle. He lowered his head and cruelly bit her nipples. Cat screamed and struggled harder, but her resistance seemed to inflame him. He was gaining great pleasure from hurting her.

  Frightened by the fury in his face, she changed her tactics. Her struggles ceased, and her hips began the sweet rhythm that maddened him so very much. His grip lessened. Freed, she caught his head in her hands and raised it to her lips. "Nay, hinny," she whispered huskily, arching to press her soft breasts against his damp chest. "Dinna hurt me, Jamie luv! Love me, my lord! Love me now!" And her ripe mouth found his, pressing demandingly against his lips until they opened and allowed her little tongue to dart like a flame in his mouth.

  His cruelty turned to yearning and he hungrily sought to satisfy them both. "Witch," he murmured against the silken tangle of her golden hair. "I always said ye were a little witch! Ahhhhhh, my sweet love!" And then he lay quietly against her pounding heart.

  Cat lay weak with relief. Her lack of ardor had once again escaped James' notice. Instead, he praised her sexual performance. "Christ, love! Ye leave me drained!" He placed a burning kiss on her breast where his teeth had marked her slightly. "I am sorry, Cat. I dinna mean to hurt ye, but ye made me so jealous, love. I couldna bear for them to look at ye so! Yer a mistress to be proud of, Cat. Ye drive men mad wi just looking at ye! Come back to court wi me after the wedding! I canna wait any longer for ye, sweetheart."

  Cat caught her breath. Here it was, the thing she had feared all along. Reaching up, she gently touched his face. "Nay, Jamie hinny.’Tis but a bit over three months since ye declared Patrick dead. If ye do not care for my reputation, I do. After Jemmie's wedding there is Bess' to attend to, and then 'twill be but a little while till spring.’Tis not so long, my lord. Will it nae be sweeter for the waiting, Jamie? Do not let the gossips say ye hold me in so little regard that ye will nae gie me time to mourn my lawful husband. Come spring no one can say I dishonored Glenkirk in my rush to gain yer favor and yer protection."

  "Always prudent, always careful." His voice purred approval. "What a perfect mistress yell be, Cat! By this time next year I'll hae ye full to bursting wi my son, and what a son he'll be, our bairn! I'll wait, sweetheart! I'll wait!"

  She smiled sweetly at him, thinking, I'd rot in hell before I'd bear yer bastard, James Stewart!

  But she was truly safe now. When he left Glenkirk this time she would never see him again. Cat could feel almost kindly towards him now.

  Again that night she escaped his attentions, and she managed to forestall him the following night as well, by pleading the wedding on the following day, for which she must be rested.

  James Leslie's wedding to Isabelle Gordon was a triumph of good planning, good food, and good weather. The bride was radiantly lovely, the groom elegantly handsome. The wedding feast lasted a long time, with many courses and entertainments. At last, Cat, Bess, and Henriette took Isabelle from her new husband and, pursued by a group of rowdy young bucks, gained the safety of the earl's suite. The lovely wedding gown was removed and taken away by Belle's maid.

  Quickly she was dressed in a pale shell-pink nightgown. Her face, hands, and neck were bathed in warm perfumed water, and her mother brushed her long, dark hair.

  "Remember what I have told ye," said Henriette Gordon in a low voice.

  Her daughter nodded.

  "What did ye tell her?" asked Cat, amused.

  "That she must defer to Jemmie in all things," replied Henriette simply.

  "Nothing else?" Cat was incredulous. "Riette! How could ye?"

  The little Countess of Huntley was close to tears. "Cat, I tried! Only yesterday she was my babe, and now suddenly she is fifteen and grown! I tried to tell her of what happens between a man and his wife in the marriage bed, but she looked so damned superior… it embarrassed me!"

  "Get the Countess of Huntley some wine," Cat commanded a servant girl. "Bess, watch the door." She turned to Isabelle. "Well, my girl, do ye know of that which occurs between a man and a woman?"

  "Nay, belle-mère," whispered the girl, her eyes lowered.

  "Christ's bones," swore Cat. But before she could say another word, the door gave way and a group of men burst into the room pushing Jemmie ahead of them. While the caudle cup was passed about, Cat managed to get next to her son. Smelling of much wine, he bent to give her a kiss.

  "Jemmie," she whispered urgently, "Belle is completely innocent. That ninny Henriette was too shy to talk wi her own daughter. Be extra-gentle wi the lass tonight. What happens the first time will color her whole attitude towards lovemaking."

  He nodded quietly, his eyes becoming serious. "I understand, mother. I promise to be kind."

  The toast drunk, the jests and good wishes shouted, the bridal chamber was emptied of all but the inhabitants for whom it was intended. In the crush of exiting the king found his way to Cat's side. "I must leave in the morning if I am to be home for Christmas. I shall be in yer bedchamber in an hour."

  One last time, she thought. After this night I shall be forever free of ye, James Stewart.

  But what was she to do tonight? Fiona's voice came back to her. "Love him, Cat. Ye know how." Returning to the great hall, she stayed long enough to drink another toast to the new Earl and Countess of Glenkirk and then, bidding the guests enjoy themselves, she departed.

  Alone, for she had given Susan the night off, she filled a basin with water warmed in the fireplace kettle. Adding scented oil to it, she stripped her clothes off and cleansed her skin. Taking up a small bristle brush, she dipped it into a tiny crystal vial of salt and scrubbed her teeth. Lastly, she anointed her body with rare musk, touching the stopper between her breasts, at the base of her throat, and on the soft insides of her thighs. She was careful in her selection of a gown, for she wanted James to remember every detail of this night for the rest of his life. She hoped it would be a long, long life.

  Her choice was an exquisite gossamer silk fashioned à la grecque. It was spring-green to match her eyes, and fastened only on the left shoulder, from which it fell straight to the floor in a rippling line of pleats. It shimmered as she walked, and her body gleamed temptingly through the thin silk. The garment was similar to one she had worn for the king several years ago. She was sure he would remember.

  Brushing her hair vigorously with a brush dipped in musk, she secured
it atop her head with several tortoise-shell pins and brushed the loose ends about her finger into damp curls. The king always enjoyed loosening her hair, and tonight she must capture his attention in every way so that when he finally left her, he would believe he had spent the most ecstatic night of his life.

  Ready now, Cat rang for a maidservant to come lay the peat fire, then dismissed her for the night. Alone, she made herself as comfortable as possible on the oak settle by the fire, and waited. Her thoughts flew back to just a few short years before when she had been a cherished wife. Everything had been so simple.

  The creak of the fireplace door alerted her, and she sprang up, forcing a smile of welcome. The king stepped into the room and, blowing out his candle, placed it on the mantel. His amber eyes swept her slim body in its translucent gown, resting for a moment on the fullness of her breasts.

  Silently he crossed the room and without a word undid Cat's shoulder fastening. The gown slid to the floor with a hiss of silk. Drawing the tortoiseshell pins from her hair one by one, he dropped them on the thickly carpeted floor.

  "Stand before the pier glass," he commanded her.

  She obeyed him wordlessly, and was not surprised when he joined her a moment later. He had removed his creamy silk nightshirt and was as naked as she. She couldn't help thinking that he was a handsome man, with a firm, well-muscled body, and extremely large genitals. All the damned Stewarts were overendowed and oversexed, she thought sourly.

  Putting a surprisingly hard arm about her, he drew her against him, and his head bent to place a burning kiss on her shoulder. Then he reached up and crushed her breasts passionately. Eyes closed, she shivered her revulsion and prayed he thought it was desire. She felt one hand caressing her belly, the long fingers moving lower to explore the warm wetness of her. Squirming from his grasp, she caught his hand and led him to the bed.

  Her mouth curved in what she hoped was a seductive smile, and she spoke huskily, "Let me love ye, Jamie hinny." And pushing him back onto the bed, she knelt over him, her magnificent breasts hanging above him. The amber eyes were bright with lust. Half-sitting, James closed his mouth over the rosy nipple of one breast, but she laughingly pulled away from him, stopping his protest with a kiss.