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.
His name was Fionn, and he was a huntsman. He was big and brutal with no sexual refinements, but when he pushed himself into her, she thought she'd go mad with delight. Then the impossible happened, and she miscalculated. She wouldn't believe she was pregnant, and by the time she'd accepted the fact, it was too late to rid herself of the brat.
She told her husband of her condition, expecting the weakling to accept it and keep his mouth shut. But again, she had miscalculated. Crawling from his sickbed, he called her all the things she was, and told her that come morning he would expose her to the world for a whore. Here, however, Owen Stewart had miscalculated. While he slept, his wife smothered him with a pillow. His death was put down to an asthmatic attack, and much attention was lavished on his pregnant widow.
When the child was born, only Fiona's maid, Flora More-Leslie, attended her. The lusty boy was smuggled out and given to a peasant couple who had recently lost their own child. Fiona wanted no children cluttering her life. A dead infant was substituted for her own, and buried with much mourning in the Stewart family vault. Fiona had not escaped unharmed, either. It had been a hard birth. The doctor and midwife summoned afterwards had agreed that Lady Stewart would never bear another child. But her secret was safe. Only Flora knew the truth, and Flora had cared for her since she was a baby.
Fiona was gleeful this night, for she knew someone else's secret. She had slipped into the library at Greyhaven to escape the attentions of her cousin, Adam Leslie. Adam had been lusting after her since they were twelve. Hidden behind the drapes drawn across the window seat, she had heard the entire conversation between Heather, Patrick, and the Master of Greyhaven.
She.could not have been more delighted. Virgin Cat was afraid of sex! Glenkirk would not put up with that for long, and in the meantime Fiona intended to dangle her ripe charms before him as often as she possibly could without seeming indiscreet. She'd also see that Cat continued to harbor fears.
'When ye smile like that. Mistress Fiona, I know it bodes nae good. What mischief are ye about?'
'No mischief, Flora. I am just thinking what dresses I'll wear to Glenkirk for Christmas.'
Flora sighed delightedly. 'Christmas at Glenkirk,' she breathed. 'Leslies of Sithean. Leslies of Glenkirk. Hays of Greyhaven. More-Leslies of Crannog. We haven't had a Christmas at Glenkirk wi all the family since yer grandmam died. I'm glad the new earl's put off mourning. The old Lord Patrick wouldna hae liked it. I imagine that since the earl's to be wed next year to Mistress Catriona they'll be celebrations regular at the castle again.'
'Yes,' purred Fiona. 'Christmas should be lots of fun!'
But Cat unwittingly stole a march on her cousin Fiona. Ten days before everyone else was due, she arrived at Glenkirk by special invitation of her Aunt Meg, the dowager Countess of Glenkirk. Meg Stewart Leslie had been apprised of her niece's attitude by both her son and Heather, and she willingly supplied her eldest the opportunity to court his bride-to-be. She, too, had once arrived at Glenkirk a frightened bride, and Mam had welcomed her warmly with love and understanding. Mam was long gone, but Meg intended to pay her debt by helping Mam's favorite great-granddaughter, who was her own lovely niece.
The weather was perfect-cold and sunny. Patrick won his first victory when he presented Catriona with a snow-white mare. 'She's a descendant of Mam's Devil-wind,' he said. 'Ye'll find her fast, surefooted, and loyal. What will ye call her?'
'Bana. It means 'fair' in the Gaelic.'
'I know. I, too, speak the Gaelic.'
'Oh, Patrick!' She flung her arms around his neck. 'Thank you for Bana! Will ye and yer Dubh ride wi us?'
So they rode the hills about Glenkirk during the day, and in the evenings Catriona sat with her aunt and cousins in the family hall of the castle. The fire blazed merrily while Catriona and the young Leslies played at charades and danced with each other. The dowager countess smiled indulgently, and the earl swallowed his frustration, for he
