Taking his own robe off, he joined her and pulled her close to him. "I'm nae sure how long I'll be gone," he said thickly as his desire for her rose.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but he kissed them away. And after their lovemaking she wept stormily in his arms.

"What is it ye do to me, Francis? Why is it ye can touch me as no one ever has before?"

"Do ye want to weep and shout all at once?" he asked. "I do! I think it has something to do wi loving each other." He kissed her tenderly. "Damn, I dinna want to leave ye, even for a few days!"

But he did, riding out before the sun was even up. She stood alone in the window of her bedchamber in the cold December dark, clutching her shawl to her breasts, and watched him go. She could still feel the hardness of his mouth on hers.

While she watched him riding away she prayed that the king would relent. James could not be so stubborn as to believe she would leave Francis Hepburn under any circumstances. Perhaps James had grown weary of fighting.

On the evening of December 27, Francis Hepburn, Alexander Home, about forty border chiefs, and their followers slipped through the Duke of Lennox's stables and gained entrance to Holyrood Palace. Their first objective was John Maitland. But as they rounded the corner of a badly lit passage, they startled a pageboy, who cried out in fright.

Maitland, hearing the shout and the tramp of many feet, withdrew into his inner chamber. Lennox gave orders for the door to be broken, but the Earl of Both-well, Lord Home, and Hercules, with most of their men, passed on, trying to gain entry to the royal apartments.

Maitland lowered one of his servants out of a window and gave him orders to toll the common bell. When it rang the citizens of Edinburgh came running from their houses and hurried towards the palace.

Lord Home pulled at Francis Hepburn's arm. "Come on, man! The game's up!"

But Bothwell was desperate. "No! I must get to Jamie. Damn, Sandy! I promised Cat!"

Hercules used his giant size to yank his brother around. "Listen, ye besotted fool! What will happen to her if I haul ye home on a slab? Come on now, man! We'll try again another time." He dragged the protesting earl down the passage.

Cat was so delighted to have him safely back that her disappointment was less than Bothwell had expected. Bothwell, however, was angry. "I wanted to start the New Year knowing we could set a wedding date," he complained.

"Dinna fret, my love. By this time next year 'twill surely all be settled," she soothed him. Pulling his head down, she kissed him passionately. "They canna separate us now," she whispered fiercely. "We belong to each other."

On New Year's Day the Earl of Bothwell handed out gifts to his staff, tenants, and retainers. In the afternoon he was able to be alone with Cat and the children. Though they did their best to hide it, the young Leslies were as excited by the prospect of gifts as children anywhere.

Jamie could hardly believe that the young red stallion prancing in the courtyard was really his. "He's a son of my Valentine," smiled the earl. "I call him Cupid."

For Cat's daughter, Bess, there was a beautiful cloak of burgundy velvet trimmed in soft pale gray rabbit fur with a little gold clasp studded in rubies. Colin Leslie, the budding courtier, received a round gold clan badge for wearing with his plaid. The griffin on it had sapphire eyes. Robert Leslie was given a puppy, born ten weeks earlier to Bothwell's favorite Skye terrier bitch.

The children were ecstatic. Bess put on her cloak, Colin pinned his badge to his shoulder, Robert found a lead for his puppy, and they all ran down to the courtyard to see Jamie try out his new horse. Bothwell and Cat watched indulgently for a few moments, and then turned away from the windows.

He wordlessly handed her a flat box which she opened eagerly. Cat gasped. On a bed of white satin lay a heavy gold chain which held a round gold pendant. Upon the pendant was a great lion rampant within a royal tres-sure debruised by a diamond-stubbed ribbon. The lion had emeralds for eyes, and diamonds studded his waving mane.

"Do ye mind that I mark ye wi my beast?" he asked her.

"I am proud to wear the Hepburn lion," she answered him.

Lifting it from its box, she handed it to him. "Fasten it on for me, my lord." When he had done so she preened before the pier glass, then walked over to the table and picked up the one remaining box. She handed it to him. In it was a large round emerald ring set in gold and into which his seal had been cut. "Emeralds are for constancy," she said in a low voice. "But wait, my lord. I hae one other thing for ye," and reaching into the purse that hung from her waist she drew out a plain gold band.

He laughed softly. Reaching into his own pouch he drew out a similar ring, which he gave to her. Her eyes closed, and two tears slipped out. "Damn, Bothwell! I did want to be wed to ye soon. Damn James Stewart! I hate him so!"

He held her close. "Poor love," he said. " 'Tis harder for ye than it is for me. I am sorry our raid failed. If James weren't so stinking stingy the passageway would hae been lit better and that bloody boy would nae hae cried out."

She began to laugh. The thought that the king's cheeseparing ways were responsible for her misery was ludicrous. Quickly picking up her thoughts, Francis laughed with her. Neither of them, however, laughed for very long.

Early on the morning of the 11th of January an exhausted messenger galloped into Hermitage. The king had personally penned a proclamation offering a reward to any man who would kill the Earl of Bothwell.

They were shocked, for they could not believe James would do such a thing. Maitland had, according to the messenger, frightened the king badly after the raid of December 27, and had convinced James that his cousin wished to kill him and rule in his place. After all, did they not call Bothwell the uncrowned king? If the king were prudent, he would kill Bothwell before Bothwell killed him.

Francis Hepburn got on his horse and rode directly to the capital. He wished to try to settle the matter with his cousin, in person. He was forced to retreat to Hermitage when the king rode out after him with a large troup of soldiers. James forced his horse into a bog in pursuit of Bothwell and then nearly drowned. This didn't help matters. Again there was talk of witchcraft.

The next three months saw a forced peace between the king and his cousin, brought on by the advent of severe winter weather. The roads were closed by heavy snows throughout Scotland. Cat could not have been more pleased. Though Jamie and Colin had returned to Rothes, Bess and Robbie remained. Cat could pretend during those precious months that they were a normal family. Bess, her father's pet, was more reserved with Francis than Cat would have wished, but Bothwell understood, and treated the little girl with grave respect.

"We'll hae a wee lass of our own someday," he whispered softly to his mistress.

The young Robbie adored Francis Hepburn. The fourth of Cat's children, with two girls after him, he was truly a middle child. No one had ever had a great deal of time for Robbie, but that winter the great Earl of Bothwell found the time. In this six-and-a-half-year-old boy he found a quick, inquiring mind, and an ability to recall the smallest fact. Delighted, Bothwell taught him a great deal. Bess frequently joined them, particularly when they studied languages.

Bothwell and Catriona had been together a year now, and he could not believe that in twelve short months his life had changed so much for the better. Though he was involved in a life-and-death struggle with the king, Both-well was sure that if he could see James and talk to him, he would be able to make him understand. When the warm weather came he would try again to get to the king.

In early April the roads opened again, and the earl and Cat escorted Bess and Robbie Leslie to Dundee, where Conall More-Leslie waited to return them to Glenkirk.

"Will ye never return to Glenkirk, mother?" asked Bess.

Cat put an arm around her eldest daughter. "Now, Bess, ye know that as soon as my divorce petition is granted I will marry wi Lord Bothwell, and live at Hermitage. Ye like Hermitage, don't ye?"

The girl nodded slowly, adding quickly, "But I love Glenkirk best of all! If ye marry Uncle Francis, who will be my father?"

Catriona Leslie saw once again how her divorce from Glenkirk would affect their children. Still, she thought, I hae been a good mother, and I will be a better one wed wi the man I love.

She bent and kissed the top of Bess's dark head. "‘Tis a silly question ye ask, Bess. Patrick Leslie is yer father. He always will be. Naught can change that Francis will be yer stepfather."

"Will we live wi ye?"

"Aye, lovely."

"And who will live wi father?"

"Lord, Bess! Yer grandmother is at Glenkirk, and yer Uncle Adam and Aunt Fiona come often. Then too, yer father might find another wife someday."

"I think I would prefer to stay wi father," said Bess quietly. "He will be lonely wi'out bairns about him. Jamie and Colin are already gone, and Robbie goes in a short time. If ye take Manda and Morag from Glenkirk, father will hae no one. Unless I stay."

Cat gritted her teeth. Bess showed Leslie traits at the damnedest times. "Let us talk about it another time, lovey," she said.

Bess looked levelly at her mother and said, "As ye wish, madame," and Cat had the feeling she had lost the battle.

Conall met them on time, and was surly almost to the point of rudeness. She spoke sharply to him. "Dinna choose sides in a battle ye know naught about, Conall." He reddened. "How is Ellie?"