"Did Grandmam not consider that Glenkirk might die, or even cry off?" demanded Catriona, outraged.

"If Patrick had died ye would hae married James. Mam meant for ye to be Countess of Glenkirk, and there was certainly no question of yer bridegroom's crying off. Come, child. Patrick Leslie is an educated, charming man. He will love ye, and be good to ye."

"I will not marry him!"

"The choice is not yers to make, my dear. Now, take that frown off yer face. By this time our guests will be arriving. Your cousins will all be here to wish you happy."

Her cousins! Oh, God! Fortunately, her uncles Colin and Ewan lived in Edinburgh, so she'd not have to contend with their broods. But the rest! The boys weren't so bad, but those six simpering girls!

Fiona Leslie was a widow at nineteen. Poor Owen Stewart had not withstood the rigors of the marriage bed. Lush, auburn-haired Fiona with her storm-gray eyes, her red pouting mouth, and her low-cut gowns. Next came sixteen-year-old Janet Leslie, who was to marry Fiona's brother, Cousin Charles, in the spring. Jan could scarcely contain her delight at being the future Countess of Sithean-the silly cow! Ailis Hay was already fifteen, and slated to marry James Leslie, Glenkirk's next brother. That marriage was at least two years off. Beth Leslie was sixteen, but adoring of her Uncle Charles, was to enter a convent in France soon. So she might have close family nearby, her fourteen-year-old sister, Emily, was betrothed to Uncle Donald's son, Jacques de Valois-Leslie. Last was little Mary Leslie, who, at thirteen, would wait three or four years before marrying Cat's brother, Jemmie. Cat hoped that by that time Mary would stop giggling at everything Jemmie said, though Jemmie didn't seem to mind.

Catriona entered the hall with her mother. At once she was surrounded by the cousins, and their good wishes. This was her birthday celebration, and she found it impossible to remain angry.

Suddenly Fiona was saying in her husky, feline voice, "Cat, darling, here is your betrothed. Hasn't she grown, Patrick? She's almost a woman."

Catriona shot her older cousin a black look and, raising angry eyes, met the amused stare of Patrick, Earl of Glenkirk. His large, warm hand raised her little one to his lips. "Cousin." His voice was deeper than she remembered. "Ye were always lovely, Catriona, but tonight ye surpass every woman in this hall." Drawing her hand through his arm, he led her to the dais. Left alone, Fiona was surprised, and laughed. The earl seated his affianced at the main table. "Why are ye angry wi me?" he asked her.

"I’m nae angry wi you."

"Then gie me a smile, sweetheart."

She pointedly ignored him, and the Earl became irritated. When the meal had been cleared away and the dancing began, he found his aunt and, seeking the quiet of Greyhaven's library, demanded to know what ailed the girl.

"It's all my fault, Patrick," wailed Heather. "I am so sorry. I hae, wi'out meaning to, ignored a most important part of Catriona's education. The result is that she is void of emotion, and cold as ice."

"In other words, my beautiful, thoughtless aunt, ye hae been so wrapped up in yer Jamie that ye forgot to love Cat."

"But of course I love Cat!"

"Did ye ever say so? Did ye cuddle and cosset her as a baby? A child? A young girl? Nay, aunt. Ye had no time for it. Ye were too busy putting into practice wi the Master of Greyhaven all the delicious things Mam taught you!"

Heather blushed to the roots of her hair. "Patrick! What could ye possibly know of that?"

"What my mother told me," he grinned wickedly at her. "My mother assured me that my bride would be warm, and educated. Instead, aunt, I must thaw this ice maiden ye plan for me to wed."

"She says she will nae wed ye," said Heather in a little voice.

"God's bones!" swore Glenkirk. "Perhaps ye would enlighten me as to why not."

"I dinna know, Patrick," lied his aunt. "When her father told her this evening that the wedding had been moved up from next year to Twelfth Night, she became furious. She said no one had asked her opinion, but it didn't matter as she'd nae have ye."

"Have ye spoken to anyone of an earlier wedding?"

"We planned to announce it tonight."

"Aunt. Go discreetly, and bring my uncle to me."

Poor little Cat, he thought, when his aunt had gone. Left alone from babyhood to run yer own life. Then, suddenly, the largest moment in yer life is abruptly decided for ye. No wonder yer angry.

As to the other thing, he gave but the briefest thought. Leslie women were by nature hot-blooded, and once awakened to the world of sensual pleasures he knew Cat would bloom. It would take time and patience. But he was bored with easy conquests, and he had the luxury of time.

James Hay entered the library with his wife. "Well, nephew! What is so important that I must sneak away from my guests?"

"I think we should hold off an announcement of my wedding date, uncle. Catriona is obviously angry and frightened, and I would nae distress her."

"Girlish nonsense!"

"Was my Aunt Heather like that before ye were wed?"

"Nay." James Hay's voice became soft with remembrance. "She was all sweet eagerness."

"I congratulate ye on yer good fortune. Would ye deny me the same luck?"

"Heather and I were fairly well acquainted," mused James Hay.

"Precisely!" said the earl. "I hae been away for six years, studying and traveling. Cat wasn't even nine when I left. She doesna know me. I am foreign to her, and yet within four weeks' time she faces the terrifying prospect of being wedded and bedded wi a total stranger. Come, uncle! Ye've led a life of conjugal bliss. Gie me the time to win yer prickly daughter so I may hae the same pleasure."

"Well," reasoned the Master of Greyhaven, "the wedding was not scheduled until this time next year… but if she's not won over by then, willing or not, she goes to the altar!"

"Agreed," said Patrick. "But, uncle. You and my aunt must agree to something else. There will be times when my methods of wooing may seem strange, and perhaps even cruel. But no matter what happens in the courting, I plan to make Catriona my wife. Remember that."

"Aye, aye," assented the Master of Greyhaven, but his wife felt a little shudder at her nephew's words. Why, he loves her already, she thought, surprised. He has probably felt this way towards her since childhood. First he will woo her gently, but if that does not work, he will woo her harshly, for he means to have her. Oh, my innocent daughter! I hae best teach ye what I know before your impatient lover loses his patience and fills your belly wi his bairn.

She heard her nephew speak again.

"I will tell her myself of this change. She must not know that we ever discussed it."

When Patrick reentered the hall, Catriona was dancing with his brother, Adam. Taking his younger sibling's place, Patrick finished the dance with her. She was flushed, and laughing. It was all he could do not to tumble her there and then, so strong was his desire. He caught her hand and, drawing her away from their families into the privacy of a little alcove, told her, "I hae been thinking that perhaps we should nae wed until sometime next year. When I left Glenkirk ye were a little girl. I return to find ye a lovely woman. I am anxious to make ye my wife, sweetheart. But I realize ye don't really know me. Would ye mind if we took the time to know each other?"

For the first time that evening she smiled at him. "Nay, my lord. I would like that. But what if we find we don't like each other?"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Do ye snore, Catriona? Or perhaps chew the betel nut of the East?"

Laughingly she shook her head in the negative.

"Do ye like music, and poetry, and the melodious sounds of foreign tongues? Do ye like riding out in the misty quiet of a spring morning, or beneath a border moon on an autumn's evening? Does the first snow of winter delight ye? Do ye like bathing naked in a hidden stream on a hot summer's day?"

"Aye," she whispered softly, and for some reason her heart beat quickly. "I love all those things, my lord."

"Then, my dear, ye should love me, for I love those things also."

Catriona's thick dark-golden lashes brushed against her flushed cheeks and the little pulse in her throat quickened. My first breach in the ice, Patrick thought, and pressed his luck further. "Will ye seal our bargain wi a kiss?" he asked.

She raised her head, and her leaf-green eyes gazed at him a moment. Closing her eyes, she pursed her rosebud mouth at him.


"Thank ye, Catriona," he said gently. "Thank ye for yer first kiss."

"How did ye know?"

"Innocence has a beauty all of its own, my love." He stood. "Let me escort you back to your guests."

When they appeared in the hall, Heather noted with relief that her daughter no longer looked sulky and her nephew looked content. He'll win her over, she thought. And looking on Glenkirk with a woman's eye, she said softly to herself, "Oh, my Cat! What a lovely adventure awaits ye!"

Chapter 2

FIONA Leslie lay on her bed, musing about her cousin Patrick, the Earl of Glenkirk. She thought how very much she would like to be his countess. Instead, that milk-and-water virgin Catriona Hay was to be his wife! Ridiculous!

Fiona knew that there had once been talk of a match between her and Glenkirk. Then Grandmam had interfered, and she'd ended up married to that weak fool Owen Stewart. How she had hated the old lady for that. Grandmam had known it.

Owen had been sickly and, though eager for his lush, seventeen-year-old-bride, unable to consummate the marriage. It didn't matter at all to Fiona, who hadn't been a virgin since thirteen. She'd quickly found what she sought on her husband's estate.