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

Chapter 9

THE 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. "I'll 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."

Mrs. Kerr bobbed a curtsy.

"And," continued the abbot, "the young woman who calls herself Mistress Abernethy is in fact the Lady Catriona Hay, the earl's betrothed wife. For reasons I'll nae go into, my wayward niece has twice fled her marriage. Now, however, the time for foolishness is over. Within a few days' time the earl's son will be born. He must, of course, be legitimate. If ye would be so good as to show me to my niece's bedchamber, we will see her now."

Mrs. Kerr said not a word, but moved quickly out of the formal parlor and up the stairs, the earl and the abbot following her. On the second floor she pointed to a door. "That is my lady's room. Let me waken her, my lord." A few minutes later she stuck her head through the door and beckoned the men inside. Then she turned and hurried back down the stairs to tell Sally this extraordinary turn of events.

Cat Hay, wearing a dark-green velvet dressing gown, stood with her back to the blazing fireplace. "Well, uncle. What brings ye here?" she asked calmly.

For the briefest moment Charles Leslie was reminded of his grandmother, Janet. "I've come to hear ye exchange yer wedding vows wi Patrick," he said.

"Such a long ride for nothing," she said.

"Niece! Yer time is very near. Ye carry wi'in yer belly the next rightful heir of Glenkirk. Would ye deny him his birthright?"

"Save yer breath, uncle. I will nae wed wi Patrick. He does not want a wife. He wants a brood mare-a thing on which to breed his sons. He believes he owns me. He told me so himself."

Patrick winced. "Please, Cat. I love ye, hinny. I've been crazy wi worry over ye and the bairn. Please, sweetheart! 'Tis my son you carry."

"Nay, my lord. Not yer son. Yer bastard!"

The earl staggered as if she'd struck him, and for a moment Charles Leslie felt sorry for his nephew. It was going to be no easy task getting Cat to speak her vows, but he had not risen to the office of abbot by meekness.

"Leave us, nephew." When Patrick had left, and the door closed behind him, Charles Leslie turned to his niece. "All right, Catriona, let us talk. I want the whole story. A year ago ye were willing to marry Patrick. What happened to cause this breach between ye?"

Sighing, she eased herself into a chair. "At first it was but a misunderstanding. Fiona claimed to be sleeping wi him, and I was furious, and why not? He claimed to love me, and yet appeared to be sleeping wi another woman."

"You might have asked him, child," said the abbot.

"Uncle! His reputation preceded him, and I was a very young girl. When he found me at my house, A-Cuil, he beat and raped me, uncle! He said I was 'a thing on which to breed his sons,' and I'd nae go home till I was carrying his child, because then I would have to wed him. I would hae no other choice."

The abbot silently thanked God that he had chosen the religious life. Women, particularly those born into his family, could be such damned nuisances.

Cat continued. "He called me his 'possession.' I am no man's possession! When Patrick acknowledges me as an individual, and not as a part of himself, then I will consider the matter of marriage."

Charles Leslie sighed. It was worse than he had thought. However, and he chuckled at the realization, his niece was a remarkable strategist. She had the Earl of Glenkirk by the throat. If he wanted his son- the abbot never considered that the baby might be a daughter-then he must agree to her demands. The abbot decided to appeal to Cat's maternal instinct

"Have ye no feeling for the bairn, niece?"

"No," she answered. "Should I?"

Charles Leslie exploded. "God's nightshirt, girl! Ye are the most unnatural mother I hae ever known! To have no feeling for yer child?"

Cat laughed. "Dinna be silly, uncle. Why should I hae any feeling for my child yet? I dinna know him. I hae never seen him. What is there for me to get soft about? A dream? Foolishness! If I dream the lad a blue-eyed redhead, and he arrives wi brown eyes, and black hair…" She stopped a moment, and then said in a solemn voice, "… or worse yet, a blond lassie! Why, uncle, I should be very disappointed then. And that's overlooking the fact that the bairn's father and I are not exactly on the best of terms."

Charles Leslie pursed his lips. "Ye are being deliberately difficult," he said.

"Aye," she rejoined sweetly. "It comes from being tired. I bear a heavy load, uncle. Ye and Patrick are welcome to stay the night. If ye'll send Mrs. Kerr to me on yer way out, I'll gie her instructions for yer comfort."

He retreated as gracefully as he could to the library on the main floor. Patrick was waiting. The abbot shook his head. "It's going to take time, lad. She's got the upper hand, and is in no mood to settle easily wi you."

"She must!"

"Nay, lad. Be careful, now. That's where ye made yer first mistake. Ye assume ye can bring Cat to heel, and ye cannot. She is proud, and has a wide streak of independence that I've seen before. My grandmother, Janet Leslie, was very much like that. But she had wisdom to go with her willfulness."

"I wonder if she had it when she was Cat's age," mused Patrick.


"She must have to have survived all she did," replied the abbot. "However, nephew, our problem is Catriona. She is very angry with you because of the things ye have said and done to her. She feels yer interest in her is not for herself, but for her breeding ability. Ye must humor her. Women about to gie birth have strange notions."

"I dinna understand what she wants," complained the earl. "I love her. Isn't that enough?"

"Nay, nephew, 'tis not. You are considering only yerself. I am not sure I understand entirely what it is she wants, but I think she wants ye to take an interest in her as a person. To talk wi her, to consult wi her on matters affecting yer life together-not simply to make demands. Catriona is, after all, a well-bred and an educated young woman. I think, Patrick, that yer problem stems from consorting wi so many low women, that ye dinna know how to treat a well-born one. Catriona is nae a plaything. And until ye realize that, she willna hae ye."

The earl flushed. But before he could defend himself, Mrs. Kerr was at the door asking them to dinner.

"Will yer mistress be joining us?" the abbot inquired.

"No, my lord. She'll sleep till late afternoon."

They ate in silence. The abbot noted with pleasure that Cat kept a good table. There was a hearty soup filled with carrots, barley, and thick chunks of mutton. Next came large bowls of fresh-caught oysters, a joint of rare beef, a fat capon, artichokes in vinegar, and some pastries of rabbit and of venison. There was bread, hot from the oven, and "sweet butter. A tart of pears, apples, nuts, and spices and a fine cheese finished off the meal. Their goblets had been filled repeatedly with a good red wine.