"Leave Scotland?" asked Adam incredulously. "Why? Let him send the high admiral for her."

"Bothwell will nae go. He says that all the fines Jamie has imposed on him during their last quarrel hae impoverished him, and he has nae the money for such an expedition."

Adam laughed. "He has nerve, the border lord, to brave his royal cousin's anger again. Do ye really think James will go?"

"Aye. After all, he wants his wife, not someone else's."

Cat smiled. She was responsible for the King's mood. For ten weeks now he had been sharing her bed. For the first time in his sad life his nights were filled with warmth and even a kind of security. The woman who slept with him was kind and tender and generous. His marriage bed would be just as delightful, she assured him. Too, there would be the pleasant duty of siring children. The Danish royal family was large, and surely Queen Anna would prove fruitful. Why, by this time next year, James could be a father!

The more Cat talked, the more eager James Stewart became to be with his bride. When he could stand it no longer, the king arranged his government to run smoothly in his absence. Leaving as regent his cousin, Francis Stewart-Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell, James departed Leith for Oslo on October 22, 1589. Luck was with him. The breezes were fresh, the skies bright blue, and the seas easy. He reached Norway quickly.

With the king away there was no point in her staying at court, so the Countess of Glenkirk made plans to go home. James had, however, exacted a promise from her that she would return when he brought his queen home. She had agreed, believing she would be safe from his attentions with the queen in residence. She longed for Patrick, and wondered if he were as lonely as she.

Chapter 17

WHEN King James reached Oslo in early November he Was met by the nobles he had sent to accompany the queen home. They escorted their impatient king to the house where the Danish princess was staying. A startled servant answered the thundering knocks, and James Stewart swept in demanding to see his bride.

Directed to a second-floor salon, the King of Scotland ran lightly up the stairs. Bursting in, he cried out, "Annie luv! 'Tis yer Jamie! Gie us a kiss, lass! I hae coom to take ye hame to Scotland!"

The startled princess, who had worked very hard to learn English, could hardly understand the wild man before her. A look of obvious distaste on her face, she backed away. Then the Earl of Glenkirk stepped forward and, in slow, unaccented English, said to her, "Your royal highness, may I have the honor to present his gracious majesty, King James of Scotland."

The princess curtsied prettily. James Stewart was immediately enchanted. She was even prettier than her portrait. Anna of Denmark was slightly shorter than the king, with silky yellow hair, sky-blue eyes, and a pink-and-white complexion. She had a little cleft in her chin, and when she smiled, two fetching dimples peeped out from either side of her rosebud mouth. She was all youth and innocence, and James instantly remembered all the things Cat had promised him marriage would be.


"His majesty would like to give you a kiss of welcome, your highness," continued the earl.

Anna of Denmark did not even look at the king. Instead, she spoke directly to Glenkirk. "Please tell his majesty that Danish ladies of good breeding do not kiss gentlemen before they are married to them." Curtsying again to the assembled group, the princess signaled to her ladies and left the salon.

Open-mouthed, the king watched her go. Then he swore. "Jesu! What manner of ice maiden hae I been contracted to wed?"

His courtiers, many of whom had already learned about the promiscuity of Danish ladies, dared not say a word. Finally Patrick Leslie spoke up. "She's really a nice little lass, cousin, but ye took her unawares. I think she was probably embarrassed, and maiden-shy. Undoubtedly she wished to meet ye in fine array rather than the simple gown she was wearing. As a married man of many years I can tell ye women put great store by their appearance, especially at a first meeting."

The other courtiers murmured their agreement. Somewhat mollified, James said, "Cat sends ye her love, Patrick. I hae given her permission to go home to Glenkirk until we return to Scotland."

James was escorted away by Danish court officials, to be housed in another building until after his wedding. The Earl of Glenkirk meanwhile sought one of the princess's ladies, and told her to dress her mistress elegantly for her next meeting with the king.

They had been married by proxy on August 20. They were now formally and officially married by a Presbyterian minister who had come with the king from Scotland. The wedding took place on November 29, in a local church. A feast was held for Scots and Danish nobles. The new Queen of Scotland loved dancing and parties above all things. The evening was gay, and so were the queen's ladies.

One of them, a Mistress Christina Anders, had singled out the Earl of Glenkirk. From the first she had seen of him in early September, she had determined to have him. That he was married made no difference to her. So was she, and to her third husband, a boy of twelve.

Christina Anders was seventeen. She was petite, with silver-gilt hair and dark sapphire eyes. She was a sea goddess in miniature. She had been married at ten to an old count who liked little girls. Widowed at thirteen, she was wed to a middle-aged man who enjoyed deflowering virgins. Christina was still a virgin. When her second husband was murdered by an angry peasant, Christina quickly married herself to his heir, an eleven-year-old boy. This left her free to pursue her own life, financially secure. She had left her husband alone on his estate with his tutor, and come to Copenhagen to renew her friendship with Princess Anna, a childhood playmate. Naturally when Anna was betrothed to the King of Scotland she asked her old friend to be one of her ladies. It would have been unthinkable for Christina to refuse.

Though several men had sought Christina as a mistress, she refused any permanent liaison. She enjoyed her freedom. Then, too, her sexual preferences were sophisticated.

The Earl of Glenkirk was not unaware of Mistress Anders' interest. Since his marriage he had not strayed from his lovely wife's bed. Now, however, he faced a long cold winter without her. Patrick Leslie loved his wife, but he was no saint, and the woman who was so obviously offering herself was very tempting.

Christina had gone out of her way to look charming at the royal wedding. She wore midnight-blue velvet, so her hair looked as silver as possible and her skin its whitest The more she danced, the pinker her cheeks became. She pointedly ignored the Earl of Glenkirk, much to his amusement. He might have played a harder game with her, but he had decided to bed her that night. If she proved a disappointment he could easily dismiss her without any hard feelings, blaming the wedding excitement for his lapse. On the other hand, it could be the beginning of a delightful affair.

Calculating carefully, he moved into the figure, and when the dance stopped several minutes later, Christina Anders found herself opposite Patrick Leslie. Clamping an arm about her waist, he looked down, and asked, "Wine, madame?"

She nodded, and he brought it.

"Tonight?" he asked bluntly.

Caught unawares, she nodded mutely.

"What time?"

"Eleven," she said softly.

Smiling, he bowed and walked away.

Christina sat sipping her wine. It had been so easy. She was sorry that she had no rooms of her own in which to entertain him. The queen's maids of honor slept dormitory-fashion near their mistress. Once the queen had been put to bed she would be free to go to him. Her heart beat faster. His manner told her that he would be a masterful lover.

Margaret Olson approached her. "The Scots stallion grows impatient to mount his mare," she said softly. "It's time to put the queen to bed."

Christina laughed. "You are such a bitch, Mag! All right, but let's hurry! I have a rendezvous with Lord Leslie tonight" She smiled proudly.

"He's a big, handsome thing," said Margaret. "I cannot decide who to sleep with. Both Lord Home and Lord Grey have asked me."

"Try one this week, and the other next. Soon they'll all be going back to Scotland, and we'll be left to return home."

"I won't," said Margaret Olson. "I am going with the queen. She asked me a few minutes ago. and she is going to ask you too. Be nice to your lover if you want to keep him when we go to Scotland."

"He has a wife there, Margaret."

"I know. I have heard the men speak of her. They say she is beautiful and headstrong. They call her the Virtuous Countess. That information should be of some help to you, my dear."

Giggling, the two maids of honor hurried to their mistress's side. With a flurry of flying skirts, Queen Anna and her ladies fled the hall, pursued by a group of shouting young men. Gaining the safety of the royal apartments, they collapsed, laughing madly. Countess Olafson, who was, at twenty-four, the oldest of the queen's ladies, tried to bring about some order.

"Ladies! Ladies! His majesty will soon be here, and there is much to do. Karen, you keep watch outside the door, and tell us when the king is coming. Inge and Olga, see to the bed. Margaret and Christina, you two help me undress her majesty."

They hurried to prepare the room and the young queen for her eager bridegroom. The scented sheets were warmed, the queen undressed and wrapped in a lovely white silk nightgown embroidered in silver and gold thread. While Margaret and Christina put the queen's wedding gown away, Countess Olafson sat the girl down and brushed her long yellow-blond hair.