Nanny had adored Mary Stewart, and when James' tutor spoke vitriol against the unfortunate captive queen, Nanny had countered with her own version of the truth. For the child's peace of mind, it was fortunate that her stories had been more plausible than his tutor's. The little boy asked the old lady about the references to his mother's affairs, and was told only that women were weak when it came to men. He did not understand that until he was fourteen.

Though he had long outgrown Nanny, she remained with him and saw to his comfort. James' guardians discovered it was cheaper to keep the old nurse than employ a bevy of housemaids.

Nanny saw the young boy's affections moving in a dangerous direction with the arrival of Esmé Stewart, Sieur D'Aubigney, from France. Fortunately, Esmé Stewart was merely ambitious, and Nanny saw her laddie safely embarked upon his sexual career by introducing him to a pretty, skilled, disease-free young whore. The whore's name was Betty, and she was honored to initiate her young king in the arts of lovemaking. He proved an excellent pupil.

Betty was a member of the old kirk, and it amused her to outwit the pious hypocrites of the stem, cold new kirk. These men preached about the sins of the flesh on Sunday morning and came masked to her door on Sunday afternoon.

James, too, enjoyed outwitting bis guardians. James was a Stewart on both his dead parents' sides, and Stewarts were quite sensual. He discovered a world of delights, and understood Nanny's comment about women being weak over men. James liked women.

James Stewart was twenty-three, and king. Tomorrow he would be married by proxy to a beautiful blond blue-eyed Danish princess named Anna. It would, however, be some weeks before he saw his sixteen-year-old bride and consummated that marriage. If he was to be married by proxy, James reasoned, then he must have his wedding night by proxy also.

The idea pleased him, but no whore could substitute for his royal virgin bride. It would not be fitting. Nor would it be kind to begin an affair with an impressionable young girl. His gaze strayed again to Catriona Leslie, who was laughing up at her husband. Yes! The most virtuous woman at court would be a fitting proxy.

There were problems, however. He had twice approached Catriona. The first time she had thought him joking, and teasingly reminded him that she was older than he was. The second time she realized his serious intent, and gently reminded him of her marriage vows. She would not, she told him firmly, break them. She loved her husband, and would bring no shame to his name.

Another man might have bowed and withdrawn gracefully. But James Stewart was not such a man. He knew, of course, that he could go to Patrick Leslie and tell him he wanted his wife. His cousin, head of the smallest yet wealthiest branch of the Leslies, could be counted upon to do the correct thing and turn a blind eye while the king dallied with his wife. James, however, liked his older cousin, and saw no reason to hurt him. The Earl of Glenkirk was a fiercely proud man. If the king wanted his wife he would have to acquiese, but he would never really be happy with Cat again.

But if Patrick Leslie were out of the way, then Catriona could be made to comply. It would be done secretly, so as not to harm the lady's reputation or her husband's ego. But it would be done. James wanted a taste of that which had held Patrick Leslie's unwavering interest for nine years. He was going to have it.

The dancing ended and the courtiers, hot with their efforts, drank eagerly from the goblets of chilled wine passed by the servants. James moved easily among them, talking and laughing. Eventually he came to the Leslies.

"Cousins!" He kissed Cat on both cheeks.

"So, Jamie, tomorrow ye take a wife," said the Earl of Glenkirk.

"Aye, Patrick. Though I do wish she were here rather than in Denmark."

"Patience, lad. She will be here before ye know it, and then will come times ye'll wish her back in Denmark!"

They all laughed, and James said, "Will ye and Cat be my guests, and stay here during the festivities? I know ye've a house in town, but I'd like to hae my family about me. Even Bothwell is back in my good graces."

"Why thank ye, Jamie," smiled Patrick. "We'd be honored, wouldn't we, sweetheart?"

"Aye, sire," said Cat "We are most honored by yer kindness."

James moved on, secretly exulting. Now he had her under his roof I

The following day the king's marriage to Princess Anna of Denmark was celebrated with much joy. That night the Earl of Glenkirk left for Melrose Abbey on urgent business. His countess, after a delightful evening of feasting and dancing, retired to her rooms.

Ellen helped her undress, and she then stepped into a small tub, where the woman sponged her down with warm, scented water. Dried and powdered, she held up her arms so Ellen could slip a sea-green silk nightgown over her. Climbing into bed, she ordered Ellen to bank the fire, and bid her good night.

Cat lay back on the plump pillows. It was a big bed, made bigger by Glenkirk's absence. They had rarely been apart in the nine years of their marriage, and she did not like being separated. Suddenly, as she began to doze, she heard a creaking noise. She sat up just in time to see a hidden door by the fireplace swing open. James Stewart walked through it.

"What are ye doing here?" she hissed at him.

"I should think, my dear, that the answer to that would be obvious."

"I'll scream the castle down!"

"No, my dear, ye won't. The scandal wouldna touch me. I am the king. Ye, nonetheless, are a different proposition. Yer family would suffer badly if ye publicly refuse me."

"I told ye I would nae be yer mistress, Jamie." She strove to hide her fright. She had not expected such persistence from him.

"I dinna accept yer decision, madame. Besides it is nae yers to make. Today I was wed by proxy. Tonight I intend consummating my marriage the same way, and I have chosen ye to be my bride."

"Never! I'll never yield to ye!"

"Ye hae no choice, my dear," he said triumphantly, and stripped off his robe. "Stand up, and come here to me!" he commanded her.

"No! And if ye force me I'll tell Glenkirk!"

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and her lovely mouth sulky in defiance. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and her anger with him excited him more than any other woman ever had.

"Tell Glenkirk?" He was amused. "If ye want, Cat, I'll tell him myself. But remember one thing, my dear. Patrick will forgie me. I am his king. He'll nae forgie ye. Now, come here to me!"

The truth of his words horrified her. If her proud lord knew that another man had lain with her, he'd cast her off. The king had trapped her as neatly as a rabbit. "You bastard!" she swore at him.

Laughing, James replied, "Nay, love, that rumor was settled before my birth." He held out his hand. Forced, she came to him. Her leaf-green eyes were blazing furiously. James laughed softly again. Oh, now she was going to fight him with her stubborn mind. Her body, however, would yield eventually. There was plenty of time, and he intended to go easily with her tonight.

"Remove the gown," he said quietly, and was pleased when she obeyed him without question.

Standing back, he viewed her with pleasure. She had a wide, well-padded chest that moved downward into the most beautiful breasts he had ever seen, lovely ivory globes with large dark-pink nipples. Her waist was slender and long, her full hips nicely rounded, her legs long and shapely. Her tawny hair fell to her hips. He could feel desire beginning to pound.

"God's bones, cousin! Yer beautiful!"

To his surprise she blushed pink, and James was frankly delighted. It was true then. She really had never known another man except Patrick. She really was the most virtuous woman at court. He would see she was rewarded by making her a lady of his wife's bedchamber. She would be an excellent influence.

Taking her hand again, he led her across the room to their bed. Picking her up, he placed her on it. The tempting triangle between her legs was plucked and pink, as befitted a lady, and at the top of the cleft sat a little black mole. "The mark of Venus," he murmured, touching it. He bent over and kissed the mole.

A great shudder ran through her, and James smiled to himself. He was going to take her quickly, for once the deed was done her foolish resistance would crumble. Gently but firmly, he parted her trembling thighs. Her eyes widened, and she gasped in surprise when he gently pushed into her. Like most male Stewarts, James was overly endowed. The suddenness of his attack made it impossible for Cat to struggle, so she decided to lie quietly while he satisfied his lust.

James, however, was too skilled a lover to allow passivity from his partner. Teasingly, voluptuously, he moved within her, deliberately rousing Cat's passion and making it nearly impossible for her to resist him. Only a supreme effort on Cat's part helped her to lie still beneath him. Her hands were balled into fists by her sides. By concentrating on the sharpness of her nails digging into her palms, she could blot out enough of what he was doing to her to remain a nonparticipant.

Discovering this, the king said, "Oh, no, my love," and, laughing, drew her arms up over her head. He held them there with one hand. Now his sensuous mouth found her fragrant but unresponsive lips. His insistent tongue forced first those lips and then her teeth apart, thrusting with skill. She sobbed, and another shudder shook her. She was close to yielding, for he had breached her defenses. Her lovely body, used to regular lovemaking, was simply not conditioned to resist pleasure. He increased the tempo of his movement. "Yield to me, love!" he whispered insistently.