Love Wild and Fair

by Bertrice Small

  Upon learning of his daughter's condition, the old laird had sent her off to his sister in Caithness. There she had remained until she died when her son was ten. The third Earl of Glenkirk had always seen to his bastard son's support, and when Niall was left motherless, his father had sent him to be raised by his brother, Donald, in France. Thus, Meg had never known of her beloved husband's one deviation. Formal recognition by his father had made Niall's acceptance into the church a certainty.

  Donald Leslie of Glenkirk had been a third son, and it had been necessary for him to make his own fortune. With his cousin, David Leslie of Sithean-himself a fourth son-he had gone into military service as a mercenary. It was while serving France that the two cousins caught the fancies of two young heiresses who were also related.

  Donald had wed himself to Ren6 de la Provence, and sired six children in rapid succession-five of them sons, so his father-in-law, the old Sieur de la Provence, had been made happy in his old age. Now that he was dead, Donald was the Sieur de la Provence.

  David Leslie-brother to Cat's mother-had done equally well by marrying Adèle de Peyrac, the only child of the elderly Sieur de Peyrac. He had sired four sons. The two Leslie cousins had, as part of their marriage contracts, agreed to add their wives' names to their own. Hence in France they were known as Donald Leslie de la Provence and David Leslie de Peyrac.

  Cat had never met either of her uncles, as they had left Scotland before she was born.

  "The entire family is quite excited by your visit, madame," Niall told her. "We realize, of course, that you are in mourning."

  "No longer. Patrick would nae have liked it."

  "I was saddened to learn of his death. I liked him."

  "Ye knew him?"

  Niall Fitz-Leslie smiled. "Yes. I knew him. When he was returning home to Scotland he stopped unexpectedly in Paris, and there was no time to remove me to another place. I will never forget the look on his face when he saw me. 'Twas a look of pure surprise. Then he laughed, and said, 'Little brother, I must obviously greet you so!' Before he left we had a long talk, and he told me of our father's death. He continued to pay for my support with our uncles, and after I became a priest he settled an amount on me with the Kiras. A man, he wrote me, is still a man even if he is a priest, and should always have his own money. He was a good man. I will pray for him."

  "He was a good man," Cat replied. Then she looked at the young priest, and said, "Father, I should like you to hear my confession. Among other things it will answer all the questions I see in your eyes." She lowered the window of the coach and, hailing the nearest man, called, "Tell Conall I want to stop for a rest as soon as possible."

  A few moments later the coach pulled into a sheltered clearing, and Susan and May exited to stretch their legs. Kneeling on the padded floor of the luxurious vehicle, Cat put her two slim white hands into the large, tanned one of the priest. She remained this way for almost an hour while she spoke softly of the last few years of her life.

  The priest's face remained impassive throughout her recital. When she stopped he said, "In the eyes of the church you have certainly sinned grievously, but you have paid a far greater penance than your sin demanded, my daughter. Your current flight puts your family here in some small jeopardy should King Henri be asked by King James to aid in your return. I think, however, that your king is gauche in pursuing you when you so obviously dislike him. Lord only knows Henri Quatre is a lover of great renown, but he has never, to my knowledge, forced a woman. James Stewart is obviously a barbarian. You will, of course, forestall any threat to your family here by staying only a short time?"

  "I will, mon père. Only long enough to buy new clothes, as I left most of mine behind at Glenkirk."

  The priest grinned. "An admirable excuse for a new wardrobe, ma belle cousine."

  She laughed. "I really do want to hurry, for I am most anxious to reach Lord Bothwell."

  Niall Fitz-Leslie raised Cat up. "Sit back now, madame. Our business is over." He smiled at her. "Does Lord Bothwell know you are coming?"

  "No. I dared not communicate with him before I left Glenkirk. I will arrange with our Paris bankers to send a message to Naples."

  "I think he will be a very happy man," remarked the cleric. "When he was here at King Henri's court he seemed so… so…" The priest struggled for the right word. "… so incomplete! I realize that sounds strange, but something seemed to be missing in him and for him. Now I know what that something was."

  Cat's face lit up, and Niall was staggered by the sudden flash of pure beauty. "Mon Dieu, chérie! You almost make me regret my vows of celibacy!" he said.

  Her clear laughter rang within the coach. "You definitely have the Leslie charm, mon père. It is a good thing you have taken holy orders. There are already too many lusty Leslie men running about this earth!"

  They continued their journey through Picardy into Isle de France, and up to Paris. Cat was enchanted with the city, and quite amazed to discover how unlike London, Edinburgh, or Aberdeen it was. She had assumed that all big cities were much alike. Paris was unlike any place she had ever seen. Now she understood why the current king had switched his allegiance from Protestantism to Catholicism in order to end religious wars in France, remarking that "Paris is well worth a Mass."

  Cat would be staying with her Uncle David, whose house was thirty miles southeast of Paris, near the royal residence of Fontainbleau. When they reached the far side of the city, Niall instructed the coachmen as to the proper roads to travel, and rode on ahead so David Leslie de Peyrac might know of his niece's imminent arrival.

  It was late afternoon when the coach and its escort drew into the courtyard of the Chateau Petit. Before Cat's grooms could jump down, two liveried footmen were at the coach door, opening it, lowering the steps, and helping Cat down. An elegant gentleman stepped forward. Had he not looked so like her mother, Cat would not have recognized him as her uncle. Smiling, he kissed her on both cheeks. "Catriona, welcome to France!" The Sieur de Peyrac drew forward a tall, dark-eyed woman. "Your Tante Adèle."

  Cat curtsied.

  "Welcome to Petit Chateau," smiled Adèle de Peyrac. "I am sorry your visit must be so short."

  "Nonsense, ma femme! Catriona will stay as long as she likes!"

  "It will not be long, uncle. I am bound for Naples, and I must reach there without delay. I stop only long enough to arrange for a new wardrobe in Paris, and to rest."

  "You need not travel back to the city," said Adèle. "I have an excellent dressmaker who will come to the chateau. We will send for her tomorrow morning." And taking Cat's arm in a firm grip, she led her up the main staircase to an exquisitely decorated suite of rooms.

  As the doors closed behind them, Cat pulled out of her aunt's grasp and, whirling about, said, "Very well, tante, let us talk!"

  Adèle de Peyrac smiled. "Good. You are sensible. Tell me quickly now why have you come to France. I certainly hope you do not think you can make your home with us now that your son is married."

  Cat was incredulous. The woman must be mad! "God's bones, madame! Why on earth would I want to live with you?"

  "Do not be angry, my dear," replied Adèle. "We all know that a dowager countess has far less access to the gracious life as her son's mother than she had as her husband's wife. Perhaps you and your son's new wife do not get along, and it has been necessary for you to remove yourself? I do not imagine it is easy to be poor."

  Cat resisted the strong urge to slap the smug face before her. "Madame," she said icily, "I do not know what gave you the erroneous idea that I am poor, but I beg to inform you that I am a very wealthy woman in my own right. I was when I married Glenkirk, and I still am. If I chose to I could live with my son and his bride, who is a sweet and loving girl. However, I prefer to remarry. I am on my way to Naples to do just that!"

  "Remarry whom?"

  "Lord Bothwell," said Cat evenly.

  "Mon Dieu! He is a savage, and yet he is most charming, or so I have been told." With this p
ronouncement Adèle de Peyrac left the room.

  Susan sniffed. "She doesna like us, does she, my lady?"

  Cat laughed. "No Susan, she doesna like us."

  "How long must we stay here, my lady?"

  "Just a few weeks, Susan.’Tis still winter, and I would wait a bit."

  The following night Cat met her Uncle Donald and his wife, Renée, who was as warm with her Scots niece as Adèle was cold. "I wish you had stayed with us, chère Catherine. Adèle is not a particularly hospitable woman."

  Cat patted the plump, dimpled hand. "It's all right, ma chère tante. I only stay a few weeks, and then I am gone."

  Renée de la Provence leaned forward and whispered, "I must speak alone with you as quickly as possible. Make some excuse to go to your room."

  A bit later, Cat discovered her Aunt Renée already awaiting her in Cat's room.

  "Is it true, Catherine, that you are rich?"

  Cat bit back her laughter, for the little woman looked so distressed. "Yes, tante, I am rich."

  "Oh dear! Adèle thought at first that you were poor, and she could barely wait for you to come and be as quickly gone. Tonight, however, she told me that you were rich, and that she intended wedding you to her eldest son, Giles."

  "Impossible!" Cat was angered and astounded. "I travel south to wed with Lord Bothwell. Besides, I thought all the de Peyracs were wed."

  "Giles is a widower, and though he is my own nephew, I must tell you I do not like him. He was married for five years to the daughter of my friend Marie de Valmaison. Two years ago the girl committed suicide. Before she was wed to Giles she was the sweetest-natured, brightest and sunniest girl imaginable! But afterwards she became quiet… and frightened, always looking to Giles for approval of every word she spoke. It was as if she feared him."

  "Do not fear for me, Tante Renée. I will wed no one but Francis Hepburn."

  "Nevertheless, child, beware Giles de Peyrac."

  Back in the main hall of the chateau, Cat was introduced to her six de la Provence cousins-five charming young men and their wives, and a delightful sixteen-year-old girl named Marguerite, whom everyone called MiMi. Then her Uncle David's sons and their wives were presented to her. She quickly understood her aunt's fear and dislike of Giles de Peyrac, although his brothers were all pleasant enough.

  The eldest de Peyrac son was tall and as austere as his mother, with an almost Spanish look about him. His hair was dark, and his black eyes held a peculiar gold flame that flared when he was excited. He took her hand, turning it over to kiss the inside of her palm and quickly tickling it with his wet tongue. Cat snatched her hand back, outraged. She was furious and repelled by his behavior, as well as disgusted by the strange eyes that plunged deep into her décolletage and slowly swept upward to her face.

  "We have much in common, ma belle cousine," said Giles de Peyrac. "We are both left widowed in our prime, and," he paused, "we are both experienced."

  She ignored the remark, giving him a perfunctory smile, and turned away to talk with MiMi. But when it came time to sit down to the meal, she found him next to her. To Cat's intense embarrassment, he made a great fuss over her, choosing the choicest viands to put on her plate, and insisting she drink from his cup. She could barely manage to be civil. Quickly turning to her other dinner partner, she discovered it was Niall Fitz-Leslie. His eyes were brimming with amusement, and she said quietly in Gaelic, "Do you not think my aunt is obvious in placing her odious son on one side of me, and a priest on the other?"

  "The thought of her favorite child possessing your wealth is very tempting, Catriona." Then, "How did ye know I spoke Gaelic?"

  "Ye told me ye spent several years in Caithness. What else would ye speak there?"

  Annoyed at being ignored so pointedly, Giles de Peyrac asked, "What is that gibberish you speak? It has an ugly sound."

  Cat gave him a cold look while Niall said, " 'Tis Gaelic we speak, cousin. Madame la comtesse speaks to me of my youth."

  Cat managed to avoid her reptilian cousin the rest of the evening, and with the arrival the following day of the Parisian dressmaker she was prepared to forget him entirely. The woman had brought three assistants and an enormous collection of fabrics. One look at Cat, and she chortled, "Ah, madame la comtesse! What a pleasure it will be to dress you! Mon Dieu! What a tiny waist! What magnificent breasts! Such skin, eyes, hair! I can see that once you arrive at court it will not be long before our Evergreen Gallant has a new mistress. When I have finished with you, madame, there will be no one more ravishing!"

  Cat laughed happily. "I regret I shall be a disappointment to you, Madame de Croix. I am not going to court, but to Italy to be married. You must make my clothes in the Italian fashion."

  The little woman's face fell. "Where in Italy, madame la comtesse?"

  "Naples."

  "Ahhhh!" The smile reappeared. "Naples! The climate is temperate, and the nobility fashionable! We will use light velvets, cottons, linens, and silks of all weights. The necklines will be very, very low, the skirts fluid and flowing. You will be a vision!" She signaled to her assistants, who immediately began unrolling bolts of materials.

  Cat gasped. Never had she seen such a marvelous display of fabric or colors. A soft lilac-colored silk caught her eye, and she pointed to it. "For my wedding gown," she said.

  Madame de Croix smiled broadly. "Oui! But only for the overskirt. For the underskirt we use the same color in a light velvet, which we will embroider with gold thread and seed pearls. The sleeves will flow like water, and we will embroider their edges too. Very appropriate for Naples. Now, if you were to remain here and go to court, I should design the sleeves tight at the shoulder and wrist and full in the center, but-" she shrugged-" 'tis too stifling a fashion for a warm city. Now, madame la comtesse, let us get your measurements."

  Clad only in her shift, Cat stood upon a stool while the dressmaker and her three assistants buzzed about her, chattering in their quick Parisian French. Suddenly Cat became aware of another person in the room, and looking up saw Giles de Peyrac leaning against the open bedroom door staring avidly at her. Ignoring him, she said to Susan in Gaelic, "Fetch Conall to remove that vermin!"

  An uncomfortable few minutes passed, and then Conall was standing next to Giles de Peyrac. Speaking in soft, careful French, he said, "We can do this two ways, my lord. Either ye leave quietly, or on my lady's very explicit orders I will remove you."

  Saying nothing, the Frenchman turned and departed, Conall following.

  "How long," asked Cat. "would it take to make one dress for me? Could you do a dress in one day?"

  "Using three girls, I could, madame la comtesse."

  "Then send to Paris, Madame de Croix. I want two dozen of your best seamstresses, and I will pay their wages myself. Twelve are to work on my gowns and the others are to do everything else-the shifts, night-garments, cloaks, embroidery, whatever!" At the woman's incredulous look, Cat smiled. "Send someone you trust to the banking house of Giscard Kira, and ask whether Madame la Comtesse de Glenkirk can afford such extravagance. You will find that I can. I wish to be gone from Chateau Petit within two weeks!"

  Shuddering, Cat glanced at the now-empty doorway.

  Chapter 45

  TWO days before Cat's departure, an unfamiliar horseman rode into Chateau Petit. Within the hour Cat was summoned to the library. David Leslie de Peyrac looked uncomfortable and a trifle nervous. Sprawling in a chair was an elegant gentleman who leaped to his feet as Cat entered the room.

  "My niece, Madame la Comtesse de Glenkirk. Catriona, this is Monsieur le Marquis de la Victoire."

  The elegant bowed low over her hand, kissing it reverently and holding it a moment too long. His blue eyes swept her admiringly, and he couldn't resist ogling her just a trifle, the waxed points of his moustache twitching slightly. "Madame, I am your devoted slave," he murmured with a violet-scented breath.

  Cat's laughter rang clear, and her leaf-green eyes twinkled. "You overwhelm me with such attentions, mon
sieur le marquis," she protested prettily.

  Delighted with this beautiful woman, who was obviously skilled in court repartee, the marquis spoke again. "Madame, it is my unbelievable good fortune to have been chosen by the king to escort you to Fon-tainebleau."

  "Your king wishes to see me? There must be some mistake, monsieur le marquis. I am merely traveling through France on my way to Italy."

  "You are the widow of Patrick Leslie?"

  "Yes."

  Then there is no mistake, madame."

  "I will need time to change, monsieur le marquis. And, of course, I must be properly chaperoned. I shall be accompanied by both my tiring women, my confessor, and my captain-at-arms and his men. And, of course, we shall travel in my coach."

  "But, of course, madame! All the proprieties will be observed."

  Another hour passed, and Cat found herself traveling the seven mile's through the forest between Chateau Petit and Fontainebleau. On Niall's advice she had dressed herself in an elegantly seductive dark-green velvet dress that emphasized the color of her eyes and the whiteness of her skin. The neckline was cut very low to reveal the full swell of her breasts. Over it she had flung a hooded cloak fashioned of alternating bands of dark-green velvet and soft dark beaver. It closed at the neck with a large gold clasp set with an emerald.

  Niall spoke quietly to her as they rode along. "Don't underestimate him, Catriona. Henri de Navarre is a shrewd man. Answer his questions candidly, but tell him only what you think he needs to know, no more. He enjoys women, especially women of spirit and intelligence. He has great charm."

  "But what," she asked, "can he want with me?"

  "I imagine James Stewart has discovered your absence, and has sent to his fellow king for aid in obtaining your return."

  "I will not go back, Niall!"

  "If that is why Henri wishes to see you, ma belle, then use all your charms to dissaude him. I know you can."