He spoke to Conall. 'The nearest horses?'
'In the valley. Gavin Shaw has the nearest farm.'
'Get going,' said the earl. 'I'll meet ye there.'
Conall nodded and left. Patrick finished dressing and went down to the kitchen. Ellen handed him a large sandwich of bread and ham. 'Ye can eat as ye walk,' she said.
He nodded his thanks. 'Pack everything up here for for me, Ellie. I'll send someone up for ye by afternoon at the latest. Will ye stay at Glenkirk until I find her? She's going to need ye more than ever now.'
'I'll stay. Her apartments have never been properly refurbished, and there's the nursery to prepare.'
Flashing her a smile, he left A-Cuil and began his walk down to the Shaw farm.
Several hours later Patrick Leslie knew that Ellen had been right. Cat was not at Greyhaven, and a check revealed that her jewelry and a generous portion of her father's household gold was missing.
He rode to Sithean, and stopped at Ruth's house in Crannog. Cat was not in either place. At Glenkirk his lovely mother berated him for a fool and demanded, in a voice he had never heard her use before, that he find Cat, and
'James,' she said, 'can run the estate for ye while yer gone. Adam and Fiona are, unfortunately, in Edinburgh. They are going to France to visit our cousins.'
'Mother, I dinna even know where to look for Cat.'
She looked at him pityingly. 'Ye hae a bit less than six months to find her, my son. Else the next rightful Glenkirk will be born a bastard.'
Groaning with despair, he left the room. Cat Hay would have been terribly happy to see the desperate * look on the earl's face.
Chapter 8
FIONA Leslie pulled her hood over her beautiful face. Looking around to be sure she wasn't followed, she slipped into the Rose and Thistle Inn. 'I seek Mistress Abernethy,' she told the landlord.
'Up the stairs, to the right,' came the answer.
Fiona mounted the stairs. She had no idea who this Abernethy woman was, but when the urchin had shoved the note into her hand, curiosity had overcome good sense. She knocked on the door. Hearing a voice bid her enter, she did. The woman by the window turned. 'Cat!' she gasped.
'Shut the door, Fiona, and come sit down.'
Fiona settled her black velvet skirts and looked at her beautiful cousin. 'I thought Glenkirk held ye captive at A-Cuil? What do ye here?'
'I escaped him again, and I want yer help, Fiona.'
'God's toenail, yer a fool, Cat!' she sighed. 'I promised Adam that when we met again I would tell ye the truth. I never slept wi Glenkirk, though until his brother took me I was hot to.' She grinned ruefully. 'As a matter of fact, he wouldna have me! There I lay-mother-naked on his bed-and he wouldna have me! All he wanted was ye. And that's the truth!'
Cat smiled. 'Thank you, Fiona. Thank ye for telling me. Patrick already told me he had not slept wi ye, and though I was inclined to believe him, I really do now.'
'Then what are ye doing here in Edinburgh? I'll wager poor Glenkirk doesna know where ye are.'
'Nay, he doesn't. He's probably looking for me now, but I'll nae go back to him! Nae until he acknowledges me as a human being and nae a brood mare! Help me, Fiona! I know we've nae been close, cousin, but I hoped ye'd understand. Ellen said that ye and Adam leave for France soon. Let me stay in yer house. No one has to know, not even Adam. I'm safer there than anywhere else. Patrick will nae think to look for me in Edinburgh, let alone in yer house.'
Fiona chewed on her lip for a moment. Cat would soon be the Countess of Glenkirk, and a good friend to have. Still, if Adam learned she was helping Cat in her feud with his brother he would punish her again in that terrible way he'd twice used on her. Forcing her to watch him love another woman was the worst hell she had ever known, and she didn't owe her cousin a damned thing now that she had told her the truth.
Cat stood up, and held her hands out, pleading. 'Please, Fiona.'
Fiona's glance caught a little swell of belly that Cat had certainly never had before. Comprehension dawned. 'My God, coz! Yer carrying his bairn!'
'Aye,' said Cat bitterly. 'Do ye know what he said to me, Fiona? That I was a 'thing' to get his sons on. I hate him!'
Fiona didn't think Cat really hated Patrick, but she understood how she felt. These Leslie men were so damned proud. All Cat wanted from Glenkirk was acknowledgment of her status as a person. In a few months' time he'd be frantic, and willing to agree to anything just so his son would be born legitimate.
Fiona felt the wait would do them both good. Besides, she thought, I really do owe my dear brother-in-law for slighting me. She turned to Cat and said, 'The house is yers, sweeting, but I've already let the servants go.”
'I need no one.'
'Dinna be foolish, chuck. Ye need someone. I’ll send a note to Mrs. Kerr. She usually keeps an eye on the house for me when I am not here. I'll tell her my poor widowed cousin, Mistress Kate Abernethy, is coming to stay, and would she please look after her. Have ye enough money?'
'I think so, and I've my jewels too.'
'If ye run short, or need to pawn something, go to the House of Kira in Goldsmith's Lane. And Cat, go at once to see Dr. Robert Ramsey. He's but a few doors from my house, around the corner on High Street. Remember 'tis the heir to Glenkirk ye carry in yer belly.'
'Thank you, Fiona,' said Cat softly. Suddenly she leaned over and kissed her cousin's cheek.
'We leave tomorrow morning,' said Fiona gruffly. 'Come in the afternoon. Mrs. Kerr will let ye in and gie you the key.' She stood up. Pulling the hood over her face, she said, 'Make peace wi Patrick soon, Cat. The Leslies may be arrogant, but by God, they're men!'
Late the following day, Cat moved from the Rose and Thistle Inn to Fiona's house. The house had originally belonged to Cat's and Fiona's grandmother, Fiona Abernethy, wife to the first Earl of Sithean. The cousins' mutual great-grandmother, the legendary Janet Leslie, had felt it fitting that the house go to Fiona Abernethy's namesake, and so Fiona Leslie had inherited it.
It was not a large house. Built about seventy years before, it was a mellowed red brick, well covered with ivy on three sides. The basement held a good kitchen, a pantry, a still room, and a wash room with several large tubs for doing laundry. The main floor held a charming dining room, a formal parlor, a small family parlor that opened into the garden, and a full library. On the second floor were four bedrooms, each with its own dressing room. And in the attic were rooms for the maids.
The house had a small stable where Cat housed Dearg, and the garden was filled with flowers, herbs, and fruit trees. Set off fashionable High Street, it was quiet, and little traffic passed by.
Mrs. Kerr, a cozy, plump widow of middle years, was sympathetic. She had, she confided to Cat, once been in the same position. Her husband had been killed in a border skirmish with the English when she was six months pregnant. She had raised her boy alone, and a fine lad he'd turned out to be, too! He was apprenticed to a butcher now.
'Did my cousin, Lady Leslie, tell ye how my husband died?' asked Cat.
Mrs. Kerr shook her head.
'A border skirmish also,' said Cat sadly. 'In the Cheviot, only two months ago.'
'Aye,' said the other woman, nodding in sympathy. 'I remember it. But they lost more lads than we did.'
Alone once again, Cat chuckled to herself. 'Kate Abernethy' would soon be established. She had recognized Mrs. Kerr as a gossip-a kindly soul, but a gossip.
