She heard the door close quietly. Rolling over onto her back, her eyes swept the room. He was gone. She felt the tears-hot and salty-pouring down her face. Despite her calm demeanor she was frightened. The babe she carried was the next Glenkirk and she wanted him born with both his names, but she'd not give in to Patrick before he met her conditions. The child in her womb kicked, and she protectively placed her hands on her belly.

"Dinna fret, Jamie. Yer father will see it our way soon," she whispered. And it would have to be very soon, she knew, for her son should be making his appearance any time now. She wondered if Patrick was as restless as she was, and whether he was lying awake in his bed now as she lay awake in hers.

Chapter 10

THE snow fell all through the night, and Edinburgh woke to a sparkling silver-white city. Cat rose, relieved herself in the chamberpot, and climbed back into the warm bed. A few minutes later Sally arrived to start a fresh fire. She brought hot milk with a beaten egg and spices, and a plate of hot scones dripping butter and strawberry jam.

"Bless you," said Cat, sitting forward as Sally plumped her pillows. "I'm ravenous this morning. Is there any bacon?"

"There could be, my lady," smiled Sally. "Start wi what ye have, and I'll tell Mrs. Kerr."

Cat sipped her milk and greedily ate the scones.

"You look like something ten years old instead of a woman about to gie birth," laughed Patrick, entering the room. "There's jam all over yer face. Yer bacon, madame." He gracefully swept the plate under her nose and set it down in front of her.

"Thank you, my lord." She grabbed a piece of the bacon and chewed it with relish.

"May I breakfast wi you, Cat?"

"If ye wish."

"Sally lass! Bring it in!"

Cat waited until Sally had departed before speaking.

"Rather sure of yerself, aren't ye, Patrick?"

"Damnit, Cat! Is this the way it's going to be? Always sniping?"


"Until ye gie me back what is mine, it is not going to be at all!" She took another bite of scone, and the butter ran down her little chin.

"Yer going to call my bluff, aren't ye, Cat?" He could barely keep the amusement out of his voice.

"Aye," she drawled, looking straight at him. "Would ye like to wager I'll win too?"

"What stakes, madame?"

"A-Cuil against a house in Edinburgh, but I get to choose it."

"If ye win, sweetheart."

"I will," she said, swooping up the last piece of bacon.

He laughed, enjoying her outrageous confidence. It was a side of her he hadn't seen before, and he liked it. "If," he said, "I can find a conveyance of some sort, will ye come out wi me today?"

"Yes! My size has hindered me, and I've been indoors all the last few weeks."

Benjamin Kira owned a sleigh imported from Norway. It was red, with a black-and-gold design, and pulled by two black horses. The earl settled Cat comfortably, tucking several fur robes about her, took the reins, and set off through the city.

Catriona Hay was a beautiful woman. There were enough admiring glances directed at the sleigh to annoy Patrick considerably, but his glowering looks were enough to discourage any gallants.

Cat was wrapped in a brown velvet cloak. The hood, trimmed in a wide band of soft dark sable, framed beautifully her creamy, heart-shaped face. Several tendrils of honey-colored hair escaped from beneath the hood, their rich dark gold lying in delicious contrast to the dark fur. Patrick cursed to himself. He was going to have to give in to her demands! It wasn't merely the question of his son's name. He loved this headstrong vixen, and if he allowed her to escape him again, he'd never get her back.

"I’m hungry, Glenkirk," she announced, breaking in on his thoughts.

"There's an excellent tavern on the edge of town, sweetheart I thought we'd stop there."

He drove the sleigh smartly into the courtyard of the Royal Scot and, leaping down, tossed the reins to a young fellow. Cat flung back the fur robes and allowed Patrick to lift her out. Because of the snow, he carried her into the inn before setting her on her feet.

"A private room, sir?" asked the landlord.

"Nay, mon. The common room will do us fine if it isna too crowded."

They were seated at a window table by the large fireplace. Patrick took her cloak. Beneath it she wore a deceptively modest loose brown velvet gown with a creamy lace ruff collar, and cuffs. A heavy gold and topaz chain relieved the severity of the gown. Her hair was loose.

The landlord brought them goblets of hot spiced wine without waiting to be asked.

"We'll eat," said the earl. "Bring us yer best."

They had drunk two goblets of the wine before the waiter arrived, staggering beneath his tray. The first course consisted of a bowl of shrimp, prawns, and oysters, boiled in a delicate herb sauce. There was fresh bread and butter, a dish of artichokes in vinegar and oil, and a salad of cabbage. Next came roast duck, crisp and brown with a sweet-and-sour lemon sauce, three standing ribs of rare beef, thin pink slices of lamb on a shallow platter with red wine and rosemary, a whole broiled trout, and flaky little pastries filled with minced venison, rabbit, and fruit. The third course was a large bowl of stewed pears and apples in clotted cream, sprinkled with colored sugar. This was accompanied by jellies, sugared nuts, and a large cheese. Lastly came wafers, and little glasses of hippocras. Cat, who had never been shy at the table, ate with a particular gusto that amused the earl. At last she said, "I'm sleepy, Glenkirk! Take me home."

He paid the bill and complimented the landlord on the excellence of the food and the service. Having tipped everyone, he tucked Cat again into the sleigh and drove home. When he had returned the sleigh to Benjamin Kira and come back, Sally informed him that her mistress had retired to her room. He climbed the stairs and knocked. She bade him enter. She had exchanged the brown velvet dress for a pale blue silk chamber robe. She lay on her bed.

"I am feeling very fat and full," she told him. "I intend sleeping the whole afternoon away." She reached up, drawing him down to the bed. "Thank ye, Patrick. I did enjoy our outing so!"

"So did I, love," he answered. He bent and kissed her gently.

She took his hand and placed it on her swollen belly. A look of incredulous delight lit up his face as he felt the child in her belly kick. She laughed.

"Aye, hinny! My Jamie's a strong and healthy bairn!"

She had said "my," not "our." Patrick was hurt, but he tried hiding it, and instead said lightly, "Our Jamie, Cat. He's my son too."

"Nay, my lord of Glenkirk. I told ye yesterday. The bairn is my son. Your bastard."

Patrick stood. "I'll let ye sleep," he said quietly, and left the room.

He was close to giving in, Cat knew, and she was using every trick to weaken him. She knew he wanted her, and not just for the child. She didn't mind his desiring her body, for she also desired his. But until he gave her back her rightful property and saw the error of his ways, there could be no living with him. She fell asleep wondering how long it would be before he conceded defeat.

While she slept, Patrick was learning a very interesting fact from his uncle. The abbot had spent the morning in the library awaiting the return of his niece and nephew. He was feeling quite pleased with himself. He thought his talks with Catriona had begun to bear fruit. When Patrick entered the library he asked, "Well, nephew! When do I perform the wedding?"

"Not yet, uncle. She's still not ready to have me."

"God's foot, mon! What does she want? Do ye understand her? For I am nae sure I do."

Patrick laughed. "I think I am beginning to understand her quite well. She does nae wish to be treated as a chattel."

"Nonsense!" snapped the abbot. "Of course women are chattel. Why, even the Protestant heretics agree wi that."

"Nevertheless," continued Patrick, "she wants to be treated as an equal, and she says that both A-Cuil and the investments that Grandmam left her should not have been included in her dowry. She wants them legally returned to her. She says she'll nae wed wi me until she gets them."

The abbot thought a minute, then spoke. "Mam believed that women needed a little something of their own, and she did see that all of her granddaughters, and the great-granddaughters born before she died, had both a bit of property and some financial investments. A mad idea! No judge would uphold such nonsense. If Greyhaven included A-Cuil and the investments in Cat's dowry, then they are, of course, yours."

Hearing his uncle's reasoning, Patrick suddenly saw the unfairness of it all. In a flash he understood Cat's anger. "I have promised," he said, "to return A-Cuil to her. Has she ever done anything wi her investments other than collect the dividends?"

"Greyhaven mentioned something about it to me once, but I'm nae sure what he was talking about. You would have to ask the Kir as."

"I hae full intention of doing so," replied Patrick, "but uncle, if ye wish my son born legitimate, say nothing to Cat of this conversation. I am going to see Benjamin Kira. If she asks for me when she wakes, say I've gone out walking."

But when Cat Hay awoke she wasn't thinking of Patrick. She was thinking of the pains sweeping over her. She struggled to gain her feet, but no sooner had she done so than a flood of water poured down her legs. She screamed. Within seconds, both Mrs. Kerr and Sally burst into the room. It took but a moment for Mrs. Kerr to sum up the situation. She put a comforting arm about Cat