Conall solemnly led Cat up to Lord Bothwell and placed her slim hanad firmly into his. "Treat her well, man," growled Conall huskily, "or ye'll answer first to me before the young earl has a go at ye!"

"She is my life," returned Bothwell quietly, meeting Conall's look evenly.

As the ceremony got underway, their joy was so great that neither quite believed it was happening. They went through the ceremony in a haze, hearing the bishop's words vaguely and responding automatically. And then it was over. They were wed! For a moment they stood staring at each other. Then they began to smile at one another, and they could not stop. Finally the bishop stepped down and put an arm about them. "It is true, my children. You are wed. Do I dare hope there is a bit of wine left with which we may toast this happy occasion?"

Cat blushed, which the bishop found charming in a woman over thirty. Bothwell laughed happily and, pulling himself together, put an arm about his wife and led the way back to the main part of the villa, where Maria and Paolo had rushed ahead to bring up several bottles of wine from the cellars. A few of the Glenkirk men had brought their bagpipes with them, and they began to serenade the newlyweds. Cat gazed at them intently. There was one wedding gift that only her men could give her husband.

Standing before them during a lull in their playing, she spoke quietly. "My mother was born a Leslie of Sithean, and I was wed for eighteen years to the Glenkirk. Tonight ye hae been witnesses to my second marriage to the Earl.of Bothwell. We are both exiled from Scotland, exiled by our king, who threatened the Leslies with destruction unless I became his mistress. What ye hae just witnessed in the chapel of this villa is my answer to King James. Ye hae protected me loyally, and brought me safely to my dear husband. Now ye must decide what yer futures will be. Ye may return to your homes at Glenkirk, and ye’ll hae my blessing. Or ye may pledge yerselves to the Earl of Bothwell. The choice is yers."

Conall stood. "The men who came wi ye came because there is nothing to keep them at Glenkirk. We are happy to pledge ourselves to Lord Bothwell… but on one condition. Should the Leslies or our homeland ever need us, we will go." He directed his gaze to Bothwell. "We know that ye would go under those circumstances if ye could, sir."

Francis nodded. "I would," he said. Turning to his wife, he said simply, "Thank ye, love.'8

She smiled back at him. "I will retire now, my lord," she answered him softly.

She hurried up the stairs to the master bedchamber, followed by her women. Silently, the three women removed Cat's gown and petticoats. While Susan hung the gown within the armoire and May brought Cat’s basin of warm, scented water, Cat rolled her stockings off. Naked, she took the cloth handed her and washed herself. Pulling the pins from her hair, she fiercely brushed her tawny mass until it gleamed in the candlelight Susan slipped a simple long, loose gown of palest lilac over her, and then the two servants withdrew.

"Lord," whispered young May in a shocked voice, "my lady Cat is overeager for her husband."

"Nay, silly puss," chided her older and wiser sister. "She but wanted time alone before he comes."

"What on earth for?" asked May.

"Ye'd need to be more of a woman to understand that, pet."

Puzzled, May shook her head.

Cat stood on one of the bedchamber balconies overlooking the moonlit garden. She welcomed the soft night air on her skin, and smelled the sweetness of the night blooms. Her mind was whirling. This morning she had wakened a widow, but now she was a bride awaiting her husband in their nuptial chamber. Everything had happened so quickly. For a moment she was frightened. Then she heard his voice.

"Cat."

She turned and saw him standing across the room, gazing longingly at her. He held out his arms, and suddenly she was shy. She hesitated. Instantly comprehending her mood, he moved quietly across the room and gently enfolded her in his arms. His hand slowly caressed her silken hair, and a tremor ran through her. “’Tis been a long, long time, my darling," he said.

"I feel so foolish," she whispered into his shoulder. "I am behaving like a virgin faced with a stranger instead of a grown woman faced with her beloved and wonderfully familiar husband."

"Nay, my darling. I love yer shyness. Ye hae always had a charming innocence about ye that I love. If ye dinna want to make love we will not. I know ye are tired after yer long journey."

"Francis! Kiss me!" And she raised her head up.

For a moment he gazed lovingly at the face turned expectantly to him. His slender fingers explored it, gently touching her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her nose, her mouth, her stubborn little chin. Then he bent, his arms circling her waist, pressing her against him. His mouth tenderly touched hers. He had always made love to her with incredible gentleness, and that had not changed. Yet she felt that tonight there lurked beneath the surface of that calm a fierceness that he was fighting to hold in check.

Deep within her a flame of passion flickered, and she shuddered. The mouth on hers suddenly became more demanding, and her arms slid up and around his neck. His hands caressed her long back, and she moaned softly, her body beginning to tremble weakly against his. Slowly he moved across the room until he felt the bed against the back of his legs. They fell to the bed. Turning quickly, he reversed their positions so that she was beneath him. Smiling down at her, he undid the row of tiny ribbons holding her gown together. She caught his hands, and their eyes met.

"Francis, I love ye! Dear heaven, how I love ye!"


"And I love ye, my beautiful, precious wife!" His head dipped low, and his mouth found her breast. She gave a soft cry, and he reassured her. "Only if ye want it, sweetheart."

"But I do, Francis! How can I make ye understand how much I want ye? For three years-since that last night we made love in the guest house of Deer Abbey -I have dreamed of being in yer arms again „.. though I dinna believe it could happen. I have hungered for the feel of ye, the taste of ye! Other men have possessed me. My poor Patrick, who sought so desperately to regain that which he had lost Our cousin, James, who thought he could command my love and who used me like a common whore. I sheathed my body in a protective coating so they should nae destroy me. Tonight for the first time in three years I feel completely alive, Francis, and if ye dinna make love to me now, I shall die!"

"I hae always said," he answered, smiling that slow smile she loved so, "that ye were the only woman who could keep up wi me. For three years I hae tried to forget ye between the legs of any woman who smiled my way. I dinna have to forget any longer, my sweet Cat. But I warn ye, my darling, my hunger is fierce this night!"

The leaf-green eyes regarded him levelly. "Do your worst, my lord!" she challenged, and pulling his head down, she kissed him slowly, tauntingly, daring him oh.

He felt a stab of desire pierce him, and forcing her lips apart he ravaged her mouth tenderly. His tongue flickered across her taut breasts, teasing the nipples into hard little points. It moved on, sliding between the warm valley of her breasts arid down to her navel. She cried out as a burning began and spread through her loins. Sated momentarily with her sweetness, he easily straddled her, lowering his head so his mouth might close over a pink and tempting nipple. She moaned beneath him, struggling to shift him into a closer proximity, her rounded hips thrusting upwards hungrily.

"Please, Francis," she begged him. "Please, now!"

He wanted to prolong the delight, but as hungry as she was for him, his own desire was even greater. His hand caressed the heart-shaped face. "All right, love," he murmured into her ear, and thrust deep within her, gaining an almost equal pleasure from both his possession of her and the long shuddering sigh that tore through her.

She was whole again for the first time in three years! Lost in that lovely silvery-gold world between consciousness and unconsciousness, she murmured contentedly as his hardness sent wave after wave of pleasure pouring over her. And it didn't stop even when the hardness broke, flooding her with his seed. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly.

She said nothing, her beautiful eyes saying it for her, and he smiled happily. "Sweet Cat," he whispered. "My beloved adversary, my dearest love. 'Tis all right now, my darling. 'Tis all right. We hae come home at last."

Chapter 47

THE little Church of Santa Maria del Mare was the fashionable house of worship for the noble and wealthy who lived near Amalfi. On the fourth Sunday in April of the year 1598, the Earl and Countess of Bothwell attended midday mass. As they walked together afterwards from the church, Cat saw an exquisitely dressed and very beautiful woman standing just ahead. Instinct and Francis' slight pressure on her arm told her that this was her husband's cast-off mistress.

Before he could speak, the familiar deep voice called, "So, Francisco! This is your new whore!"

The silence in the church piazza was instantaneous as heads turned to view the coming battle.

Cat froze. Bothwell's eyes were blue ice, but his voice was steady and honied as he turned to Alfredo, Conte di LiCosa, and said, "Fredo, may I present my wife, Caterina Maria, the Contessa di Bothwell. Bishop Pasquale married us five nights ago."

"And a more beauteous and radiant bride I have never seen," injected the bishop, confirming the earl's announcement.

The Conte di LiCosa bowed over Cat's extended hand. "Contessa, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you." His dark eyes twinkled.