Bedazzled

tones. 'I carry the son my husband and I joyously created. This child is all I have left of my lord, Caynan Reis. I had a husband, Papa. I will have no other. No man will ever take his place.'

The duke of Glenkirk was speechless for a long moment.

'You have seen your mother?' Cat asked quietly.

'Aye, and I have told her all,' India said. 'She understands, and says I am welcome home. I have told her I do not intend to stay after the baby is born, but rather will purchase a house near my brother's seat at Cadby. I prefer English winters to highland winters.'

James Leslie finally found his voice again. 'And what will you tell people about your bairn, mistress? Who will ye say his sire was? Some infidel who took you into his harem? The child is a bastard, India, plain and simple. You will nae find a husband wi that bairn about yer neck like a millstone.'

'I was wed to Caynan Reis,' India said wearily.

'In a Christian church? By a Christian minister or priest?' he demanded furiously. His temples were throbbing as they had not throbbed in many months. He loved her. He had raised her, but she was the most irritating female he had ever known in his entire life.

'We were married by the grand iman of El Sinut,' India said, 'but my husband promised me a Christian marriage when we could find a Protestant minister who would be discreet.'

'Why did the minister need to be discreet?' the duke shouted.

'Because for an Islamic ruler to wed in a Christian marriage ceremony would be a cause of strife. My lord was the sultan's governor in El Sinut,' India explained. 'God's blood, Papa, Mama's first husband, Prince Javid Khan, married her secretly in a Christian rite.'

'The bairn will be thought a bastard, India,' the duke said.

'As my mother was said to be a bastard?' India countered.

'Your mother was a royal Mughal princess,' he replied. 'She was raised by her father in India. Your grandfather, Akbar, was wise enough to know that if your grandmother Velvet had brought her daughter home with her to England, the bairn would hae been considered bastard-born. When your mother came to England, she was full grown, and none but your aunt Sybilla dared to question her birth, and she only because she fancied herself in love wi me, and was jealous of your mother, whom I preferred.'

'I am a wealthy woman, Papa. I do not need another husband. I do not care what anyone may think of my son's parentage. If I find England unwelcoming, then I shall go to France or Italy,' India told them.

'I think we should end this discussion for now,' Cat said. 'My granddaughter and I have had a long trip, Jemmie. Besides, I have another matter of great importance to discuss with you. India, my child, return to your mother while I talk with my son.'

India bent to kiss Cat's cheek, and then she hurried off.

'You like her,' James Leslie said.

'I do. She is honest, and loyal. Give her time, Jemmie, but now to that other matter. As you know, Bothwell is buried at the foot of our garden in Naples. However, his heart is in a silver reliquary that I have carried with me since his death. I have brought it home to bury in Scotland. The spot will be unmarked as will our future grave here. Grant me this request, and I shall never ask anything of you again,' Cat finished.

James Leslie shook his head. 'You nae ere asked anything of me, madame, ye always give wi yer whole heart. My father was a fool to ever let ye go.'

'Nay,' Cat said. 'Do not criticize Patrick, for ours was a match made by our families when I was barely out of nappies, and he a young man. He was as set in his ways as you are, my son, and I was as wild as a highland pony. I loved him well until he betrayed me by allowing the king to victimize me, but the truth is, and we both know it, Jemmie, Francis Stewart-Hepburn was the great love of my life. Both of us would have gone to our graves never admitting that had your father not been so mindless and jealous in the matter of the king. Patrick Leslie was not foolish. He was simply stubborn, and every bit as wild and proud-hearted as I was, though he would not admit to it.'

'We will make a place for ye both,' the duke of Glenkirk said.

'Only you, Conall, and I shall know the truth,' Cat told her son with a small smile.

'When do you want to do it?' he inquired.

'As soon as possible. I want to return to Rome before travel becomes utterly impossible with the winter weather. I only came to bring Francis home to Scotland, and India back to you,' she told him frankly. 'I'll sail from Aberdeen before Christmas.'

'Remain the winter,' he pleaded with her.

She shook her head. 'I cannot take the weather anymore, Jemmie. I am no girl, but an old lady of sixty-five years. Rome is a milder climate, and better for me now.'

' 'Tis a bad time to be on the sea,' he noted.

'There is always that fair time in December before winter sets in,' Cat said quietly. 'I shall be in Calais in a shorter time than if I had to travel overland down through England to Dover. I shall visit your sister and Jean-Claude a brief time, and then go on to Marseilles, through Monaco, San Lorenzo, and Genova, and down the boot through Firenze and on to Rome. I have friends in Monaco, Genova, and Firenze. It will be an easy trip. We came that way, but only stopped each night to rest my horses, which are awaiting my return with my coach and coachman in Calais.'

'How did you get from Aberdeen?' he asked her, surprised, for he had assumed she had traveled with her own equipage.

'The Kira bankers arranged everything,' she told him. 'They always do for me.'

***

True to her word, Catriona Hay Leslie Stewart-Hepburn stayed only a brief time with her son and his family at Glenkirk. There was barely time to gather her family, but learning she was with Jemmie, they all came: her other sons, Colin and Robert; her daughters, Bess, Amanda, and Morag; all Patrick Leslie's children. She hadn't seen them in so long, and while they were her children, they were virtually strangers to her. And the grandchildren. There were so many grandchildren. Her brothers and their families came, and again there was the feeling of strangeness. They had always been good-hearted, rough highlanders. She had been the odd one. But still, there was that feeling of clan amongst them all, and she wept to see them go.

There was nothing Cat could do to ease the anger and the estrangement between her son and India. Even her daughter-in-law, Jasmine, was at a loss. It made no difference to James Leslie that both his mother and his wife counseled patience to each side. Jemmie was angry, and India was angry. A collision between these two strong wills was inevitable.

'Why would she nae listen to me?' the duke asked his wife for the hundredth time. 'Did I nae tell her that Viscount Twyford was not suitable? Look now what her willfulness has cost her!'

'She is a widow having a child.' Jasmine attempted to put a simple face on the problem. She looked at her husband's hands in hers, and looked into his face. 'Jemmie, in El Sinut she was legally, and lawfully wed. And she was loved.'

'By whom?' he demanded. 'Some handsome renegade, nameless and of unknown origins,' the duke despaired, pulling his hands from hers. 'Jasmine, we canna allow her to go off on her own to raise her bairn. There will always be questions. How do we answer those questions? What man will take the lass to wife wiout the answers? We hae said she was in England, in France, and finally wi my mother in Italy. That she hae come home wi Mother is to the good. It gives substance to that lie, but there is nae way we can explain India's big belly, or the bairn she will hae in the spring. I canna let our lass ruin her life, and I will nae!'

'Then what are we to do?' the duchess of Glenkirk demanded of her