Bertrice Small - Love Wild and Fair

"Beast!" she managed to say before his mouth took possession of hers. He was gentle, always so incredibly gentle with her. He kissed her with a melting tenderness while he quickly undressed her. Then, without losing her lips, he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs to their bedroom.

When he lay her on the bed she drew him down to her and slid her hands into his shirt, stroking his chest and broad back. She pushed the shirt off. Pulling him back to her, her soft bare breasts made contact with his smooth bare chest. He gasped with pleasure at the familiar contact, and felt the rising between his thighs. She loosed her grasp and whispered urgently, "Hurry, love!"

Quickly he tore off his remaining clothes and, mounting her, thrust deep into her throbbing warmth. His entry never failed to elicit a cry of pleasure from her. She strained to receive him, sobbing her frustration when he could go no further. He began a delicious torture, thrusting within her as deep as he could go, then pulling completely out of her until she begged him to stop, so painful had her own desire become. But he would not. He drove her to heights of passion she had not known existed, prolonging their painful pleasure, and when at last him own passion burst in a raging flood within her, she half-fainted from excitement.

Her head was whirling, her heart pounding, her ears filled with the sound of a ragged weeping that she gradually understood was her own. Bothwell gathered her into his arms and rocked her back and forth. His own senses were reeling. He had, in a terrible instant of clarity, realized that in a few hours he would send this woman out of his life, possibly forever.

Slowly their breathing returned to normal. She lay back against the pillows and drew him onto her breasts. "Why did ye wait until tonight to do that to me, Francis?" He said nothing and she continued. "It is so easy for ye men. Ye live by a strict code of honor that leaves no room for emotion. Tomorrow ye will turn me over to Sandy Home, who will turn me over to James Stewart, who will probably try to make love to me before turning me over to Patrick Leslie, who will make love to me because I am his wife, and it is his right. Ye will feel remorse at my loss. Sandy Home will regret the part he must play in this drama. Jamie will feel lust mixed wi a bit of guilt, but not enough to stop this terrible thing he is doing to us. And Patrick will feel apprehension at my return, which he will try to hide from me by being masterful.

"Where am I in all of this? I am alone again while ye all play at this game of honor. I am forced to submit my honor to a man I dinna love-all the while hungering for ye, Bothwell. Ye are all so honorable. So then why do I end up feeling like a whore? I would rather be dead, and even that is denied me."

"Dinna wish for death," he whispered huskily. "The only thing that keeps me sane in all of this is knowing that ye'll be alive and well wi Glenkirk." Sitting up, he looked at her, his blue eyes blazing angrily. "I care naught for honor, and if I thought we could build a life for ourselves from the wreckage of our families I would take ye away tonight! Could ye be happy knowing that we had destroyed Glenkirk, Sithean, and Greyhaven? Nay, love, I dinna believe ye could. At least my children have Angus and the Douglases. Yer Leslies hae been a law to themselves. Ye've taken an occasional outsider into yer group, but ye've been so busy preserving yer wealth together that ye hae no powerful ties."

"We needed none," she said. "Our wealth has been our power."

"It isna now, my darling, it is yer weakness. Now James Stewart uses yer wealth as a weapon against ye, and against me. I love ye, Cat. I love ye wi all my heart. I love ye as I hae never loved another woman, and when ye are gone from me my life will be an empty shell. I hae nothing left."

"Will we nae see each other again?"

"There will come a time-six months, a year or two from now-when I will have to leave Scotland. Before I go I will see ye… if ye still wish to see me. Patrick has promised me that."

She began to weep softly again, and he held her against him, stroking her long hair. There were no words left. Exhausted, they finally slept, waking several times before the dawn. He had to arise, but she caught him by the arm, and begged softly, "Once more, my rightful husband."

So with exquisite delicacy he made love to her, his mouth seeking the sweetness of her breasts, her belly, her thighs. Gently he entered her, bringing them quickly to a mutual satisfaction. Then, marveling, as he always did, he grew hard again within her. This time he took his time, enjoying her lovely body to its fullest, and again they dozed.

When she awoke for the second time he was already up, and a steaming tub stood before the fireplace. Without a word she arose and bathed. Downstairs he laid out a cold ham, oatcakes, and brown ale. She tried nibbling on an oatcake, but it tasted like ashes and she only managed to swallow it by gulping some of the bitter ale. She felt as cold as ice. Finally he said, "If we're to meet Sandy on time we must leave now." She looked up at him, her lovely leaf-green eyes mirroring his pain. Catching her to him, his mouth closed over hers, stifling her cry. For a moment he lost himself in the sweetness of her, and as Cat's lips parted beneath his and her warm breath rushed into his mouth, he groaned.

Suddenly she tore herself away from him and, fleeing outside, mounted her horse. For a moment he could not move. Then he palled himself together and joined her.

The day was gray and threatening. Here and there the trees showed an early touch of color. They were to meet outside the town of Teviothead at the St. Cuthbert's cross. They rode in silence. Though there was so much she wanted to say to him, she could not speak.

Hercules, Lord Home, and bis men were waiting. Francis Hepburn shook hands with his friend. "Ye'll look after her, Sandy? Dinna let her do anything foolish." His voice was almost pleading, and Alexander Home nodded wordlessly. Bothwell dismounted. He lifted Cat off her horse. They stood for one long moment looking at each other. Tenderly, he cupped her face in his big hand.

"Ye'll take care of yerself?"

"Aye."

"And ye’ll nae hold Glenkirk responsible for this? He would have had ye happy, even at the cost of losing ye."

"I know."

"And dinna let Jamie know he's won."

"Christ, no!" she exploded.

"I love ye, Catriona Mairi. Whatever happens, remember that Remember."

The beloved leaf-green eyes burned into his. "I love ye, Bothwell, and whatever happens I am always yers. James can force me back to Glenkirk, but he can never change the way I feel. I will never stop loving ye." She pulled his head down, kissed him passionately, and then quickly remounted her horse and kicked it into a canter,,

Startled, Home looked at the Earl of Bothwell and then signaled his men to ride off after her. For a moment Francis Hepburn looked after them. Then suddenly his big shoulders began to shake, and Hercules heard dry, wracking sobs. He stood, helpless, not knowing what to do. He had never known Francis to cry.

Unable to think of anything else, he threw an arm around Bothwell's shoulder. "Come on, Francis! Let's go home!"

Francis Hepburn turned to face his brother, and the empty look in his eyes made Hercules recoil. "I hae no home now, Hercules," said Bothwell. "She was my home… and now she is gone."

A drizzle fell without letup, but Cat insisted on riding straight through to Edinburgh. She refused to spend the night at an inn, stopping twice instead so Home and his men could refresh and relieve themselves. She would take no food, but drank a cup of wine, which Lord Home instructed the innkeeper to lace with eggs and spices. Home's cousin, riding in their party, commented, "I hope ye get her to Edinburgh alive. Wi Bothwell behind ye and the king ahead of ye, I'd hate to be in yer boots, Sandy, if anything should happen to her."

"She'll get there," answered Lord Home grimly. "If only to hae the pleasure of spitting in the king's face. She's a brave lass, is Cat Leslie."

In the cold dark hours before dawn they reached Edinburgh. Lord Home insisted on stopping at this point. "Someone," he told Cat, "must go ahead to Holy-rood House and inform the king yer here. He has insisted on seeing ye."

She did not argue, so Home sent his cousin, quietly instructing him to go first to Glenkirk House and inform the earl of his wife's arrival. Then he was to go to Holyrood and inform the king.

Home took Cat to his own townhouse, where his servants served them with a warm fire and a good breakfast. "Ye must eat something, Cat luv," urged Home worriedly.

"Sandy, I canna eat, but get me some of that wine mixture. And I want a hot tub. I'm fair chilled, and 'twill nae do for me to appear before the king smelling of the road. Have one of yer men bring my saddlebags inside. I've a change of clothes." Her voice was calm, her request reasonable, but her eyes were fever-bright.

Having instructed his people, he put an arm about her and asked, "Are ye all right, Cat?"

"Dinna be kind to me, Sandy," she said softly. "If ye are, I'll break, and I canna break until I hae seen Cousin Jamie."

They set a hip bath before the fire and screened it off. The little maidservant took the cake of scented soap from her saddlebags and helped Cat bathe. When she came out from behind the screen, Home whistled low with both admiration and shock.

"God's bones, luv! Do ye mean to appear before James like that?"