"Bothwell, I adore ye! Yer so wonderfully diabolic!" said Cat gleefully. "How do I look?"

His blue eyes swept over her with obvious approval. She was dressed on this cool spring day in a very simple mulberry velvet gown. It had long, fitted sleeves with ecru lace cuffs, and a small stiff ecru lace collar. She wore her famous pink pearls. Though she had four ropes of them, she wore only two. She had removed her matching cape, which was trimmed in sable. Her dark honey-colored hair was caught up in a gold mesh net, and held with pearl and gilt pins.

"Dinna bat yer wicked green eyes at me, my darling," said Bothwell in a low voice. "I need no encouragement to ravish ye. If Patrick doesn't rush ye home to bed, he's a bigger fool than I think."

They had reached the reception room. Francis Hepburn squeezed Cat's hand and then gave her a little shove toward the door. Giving her skirts a small shake and her hair a final pat, she nodded at the major-domo.

She walked through the door and down the center of the room to the foot of the two thrones. Her head was high, and she could hear the faint whispers around her. Gracefully she sank into a curtsy, her head bowing for just a second.

"Welcome home, my lord king, and to ye, dearest madame, a gracious welcome to Scotland from all the Leslies of Glenkirk."

James Stewart beamed on her. "Cat! Yer as lovely as ever! Annie luv, this is Glenkirk's wife, Cat Leslie. I hae made her a lady of yer bedchamber, so she'll be serving ye now."

Anna Stewart looked down at the countess and felt sorry for her friend Christina. Not only was the countess beautiful, but her expression was sweet and kind. "Thank you for your welcome, Lady Leslie," said the queen.

"I will do my best to serve ye well, my queen," said Cat. Then before she could be dismissed she turned again to the king. "A boon, cousin!"

"Name it, my dear."

"It has been almost nine months since I have seen my husband, sire. Now that ye are so happy in yer own marriage, perhaps ye can understand how I feel. I hae not yet even seen my husband except from a distance. May I please take him to Glenkirk House for just this night?" She cocked her head appealingly and smiled sweetly.

"Oh, James," said the queen, "say yes! I give Lady Leslie my permission. Please give her yours."

"Glenkirk! Where are ye?" roared the king.

The earl stepped forward, and as he did Cat saw the little hand that tried to hold him back. For a brief moment they looked at each other, then Cat flung herself into his arms and kissed him passionately. Unable to help himself, he kissed her back.

"God's foot, Glenkirk! Take her home to bed," chortled the king.

They turned and, bowing to their majesties of Scotland, walked from the chamber. Just before exiting, Cat turned her head ever so slightly and looked directly at Christina Anders. Passing Francis Hepburn, she winked.

"Why," asked the queen of her husband, "do they call Lady Leslie the Virtuous Countess? I thought it was because she was cold, and only did her duty by her husband."

The king laughed. "Lord, no, my innocent Annie! Cat Leslie is deeply in love wi her husband, and always has been. She is called the Virtuous Countess because, unlike so many women at this court, she will nae sleep wi any other man. She is a most faithful wife. They hae six bairns. The reason I cho'se her to serve ye is that I thought she would be a good influence on ye."

"Oh," said the queen, feeling even sorrier for Christina Anders.

"Francis Stewart-Hepburn, the Earl of Bothwell," called out the major-domo. The queen turned to greet the new arrival.

Chapter 19

SAFELY in their coach, the Earl of Glenkirk turned to his wife. "I have never seen ye gie a better performance, Cat."

"Would ya rather I had caused a scene and attacked yer mistress in public?" she asked him quietly.

"I am sorry, hinny. I dinna mean to hurt ye. Who told ye?"

"Ye did. The letter ye sent me was hardly that of a man longing for his wife. Ye hae put more warmth into yer correspondence wi the Kiras. One letter in all that time! Was she selling her wares on the dock when yer ship came into port that ye couldna find time to write to me? Jamie was devastated ye forgot his birthday! If Francis hadna left him the sword-"

"Francis?"

"Bothwell," she said. "He escorted us home to Glenkirk after the king left Edinburgh last year. His father and yer mother are cousins, so that makes him our cousin. He stayed till just after Twelfth Night. The children," she said with malice, "adore him, and yer brothers had a fine time wi him. He's a good friend, Patrick, I like him."

"Perhaps, madame, I should inquire what ye were doing while I was away on king's business. Francis Hepburn is a notorious rake."

"Dinna try to cloud the issue, Patrick! Francis is my friend, nothing more, and ye should not even have to ask. Besides, he is married. Can ye tell me that Mistress Anders is naught but a friend to ye? And the child she carries is nae yer bairn?"

He had the grace to flush, and she laughed. "Patrick! Patrick! Only the Leslie women know the secret of preventing conception. Yer so used to me that ye got careless wi yer whore."

Realizing that she wasn't too angry with him was a great relief. He would not tell her that Christina Anders had tricked him, hoping to have a greater hold on him. He had been tiring of the Danish girl and, knowing it, she had become pregnant. He had tried to make her stay behind in Denmark, but she refused to give up her post as lady of the royal bedchamber and threatened to cause a scandal if he told the queen. These things, however, Patrick Leslie would not tell his wife.

"Do ye love this girl?" asked Cat.

"God, no!" he burst out. "Damn, Cat! I am no courtier, and there I was alone in Norway and Denmark wi the Stewart court. Do ye know what they do all day? They dice. They drink. They play at games. They change clothes. Aye! Clothes are very important to them! They wench. It is still a source of amazement to me how frequently they change partners. They are the most useless people alive! Had I not found a Kira in Copenhagen, I would hae gone mad!"

"A Kira?"

"Aye, sweetheart! They've a bank in Copenhagen, and I was able to keep track of our business through them. It gave me something to do."

Picturing poor Christina Anders waiting patiently while Patrick kept track of his ships and cargoes made the Countess of Glenkirk laugh. Then she asked, "Ye are sure the bairn is yers?"

"Aye. Cairi is many things, but she's nae a wanton. The child is mine."


"What will ye do about it, Glenkirk?"

"I will acknowledge it, and see to its support."

"And its mother? What will ye do about her?"

"I told her from the first that I love my wife, and that our liaison was only a temporary thing. I meant it then and I mean it now."

They had reached Glenkirk House, which was located just off the Cannongate, near Holyrood House. Cat swept in and up the stairs, bidding Mrs. Kerr a good day. The earl remained below while the servants fussed over him.

Ellen was waiting for her mistress. "Is it true?" she asked. "Has the earl come home wi another woman? Well! Ye certainly need not feel so guilty now!"

Cat whirled around. "If ye ever even hint at that again ye'll end yer days alone at Crannog! Do ye understand me, Ellie?"

The bond of love between mistress and servant was strong. Realizing how deep the hurt done Cat really was, Ellen apologized. "I must be getting old and foolish, my baby."

The countess caught her tiring woman's hand and squeezed it. Then her eyes twinkled. "Yer gossip is partly correct, ye nosy old woman! His Danish mistress is part of the queen's entourage, and quite an embarrassment to poor Glenkirk. She went and got herself wi child to try and hold him. Poor Patrick! He's been married to me for so long he's forgotten how treacherous women can be."

"Will ye forgie him?"

"Of course. He's come home to me, and he's quite ashamed at having been caught. As long as he discards her, I will be content Now, Ellie, see to my bath. I think that wicked new black silk nightgown will do. Glenkirk's about to receive a welcome he'll nae forget!"

Ellen laughed. "The Danish girl may deliver three sons to the earl and she'd still nae have a chance wi him against ye, my lady."

When Patrick Leslie entered his own apartments a short while later he found that his valet had prepared a steaming oak tub in front of the blazing fireplace. Stripping off his clothing, he said, "Burn them, Angus," and then climbed into the tub. The water was faintly perfumed and slightly oily. His winter-dry skin soaked it up. He sniffed appreciatively.

"Oil of musk," Cat said, and he looked up to see her standing in the doorway that connected their bedroom. She walked across the room and, flinging off her black silk robe, mounted the steps and joined him in his tub. Putting her arms about his neck, she molded herself to him and kissed him hungrily. As her little tongue darted back and forth exploring his mouth, her hands fondled him beneath the warm water.

He had needed little encouragement. The mere sight of her had roused him. Loosening his grip on her, he reached down and, cupping her buttocks in his hands, raised her. As her slim legs tightened about his waist he thrust deep within her. He heard her catch her breath. "Damn ye, Patrick! Did ye have to be away so long?"

Much later they lay in their big bed, happy and content with each other. Cat slept naked, safe within – the curve of Patrick's arm. He lay awake wondering what had ever possessed him to get involved with Christina Anders when a clean whore would have served his purposes and given him no trouble.