woman. Are men never the guilty ones?'
His voice shaking, he slipped to his knees and caught at the hem of her dress. 'Cat! Cat! Will ye ever forgie me? When I awoke the next morning and remembered all that had past-Christ! Ye couldna have hated me any more than I hated myself. Can ye nae forgive me, hinny?'
'No, Patrick! I will never forgie ye for what ye did to me! Do ye know what it was like for me? Do ye know what it was like having to allow another man possession of my body? For a man, lovemaking is a physical thing. He hungers for a woman, but once he has had her the feeling dies. But for a woman, love-making is an emotional experience. Her passion for a man is alive before, during, and even after the act of love. James made me feel like a whore. He used my body, and it responded because ye had taught me to respond, but I felt nothing for him but hate. Every time he pushed himself into me I hated him, and I prayed ye would never know my shame, for I couldna bear to hurt ye. If only ye had felt the same tenderness for me, Patrick, I could forgie ye now. But when ye caught me wi the king, ye punished me when ye should have defended me. No, my lord of Glenkirk! I will nae forgie ye!'
He stood, and looked down on her. 'What of the children?'
'I want my girls,' she said. 'Jamie and Colin are already wi Rothes, and Robbie will go next year. Ye may keep the children until the divorce is settled. After that-I want them. Ye may see them at any time ye want. They are all Leslies of Glenkirk and I would nae have them forget it. Nor would I have them hate their father, Patrick. What has happened between us is not the concern of our bairns.'
'Ye are generous, madame,' he said sardonically. 'And now that we hae settled that perhaps ye would satisfy my curiosity, and tell me where ye hae been hiding all this time?'
'Nay. I will not tell ye, Patrick. Ye forfeited yer right to any control of my life on that night in February.' Reaching for the bellpull on the wall, she yanked it and told the little maid, 'Please see my horse is brought around.' Cat turned once again to Patrick Leslie. 'Farewell, my lord,' she nodded coldly, and left him.
He was stunned. He could hardly believe what had taken place. He had lost her. There had been no love at all in the beautiful leaf-green eyes that had always lit with joy at the sight of him. He had willfully destroyed that Catriona Leslie, and the woman who bad risen phoenixlike from the wreckage was not his woman, nor was she ever likely to be. Sitting down, he put his head in his hands and wept. Several minutes later he left the Kira household and spent the rest of the day and the night that followed it getting very drunk.
Chapter 27
WHEN Francis Stewart Hepburn surrendered himself to his cousin, James panicked. Quickly he imprisoned the earl in Edinburgh Castle. The king, an overly superstitious man, was terribly frightened of witchcraft. Chancellor Maitland knew this and, in an attempt to break the back of Scotland's nobility, had fabricated the charges against Bothwell. Breaking the border lord, he thought, would crush all resistance to James. Unfortunately, the earl's fellow nobles were most irritated by Maitland's attempt to destroy their power. They refused to meet to try Hepburn. Until they did, justice was at a standstill because no one else could try him.
Cat was terrified by the news that Bothwell was locked in Edinburgh Castle. There was nothing she could do. She could not even communicate with her lover for fear of the king, and she had no idea how to reach Hercules. So she remained quietly with Fiona, awaiting word. She would not leave Edinburgh without Francis.
It was not long before she received a message from the loyal Hercules. She was to come, masked, to the Oak and Thistle Tavern the following afternoon, and ask for Mr. Prior. Cat was in a fever of impatience.
At two the next afternoon she slipped from the house and walked quickly through the June afternoon. It was raining slightly, which was to the good as few people were on the streets to see her. Entering the tavern, she inquired for Mr. Prior, and was shown a private parlor in the back of the building on the ground floor. There was Hercules.
She barely allowed time for the maidservant's exit before asking, 'Francis?'
'Enormously comfortable in a large, well-furnished two-room apartment,' said Bothwell's half-brother. 'Eating and drinking the best that money can buy. A favorite with his captors, but beginning to be bored by Jamie's shilly- shallying.'
'What do ye want me to do?' she cried.
'Francis has decided that too much more of the king's hospitality could kill him,' chuckled Hercules. 'So he'll be leaving Edinburgh shortly. Can ye hide him for a few hours? A day at most?'
'Aye! At my cousin Fiona's. Ye know the house. My brother-in-law, Adam, leaves tomorrow for Glenkirk. He'll be gone about two weeks, but no more. Can Francis escape within that time?'
Hercules Stewart nodded. 'Within the week, my lady.'
'I'll be ready. Is there some signal ye can gie me so I'll know when?'
'A boy will deliver a bunch of wild red roses and white heather to ye. 'Twill be that night.' He poured out some red wine and handed her a goblet. 'Drink it, madame. Ye look worn.'
She smiled at him and accepted the wine. 'I hae been so worried,' she admitted. 'I knew nothing but what the gossips in the marketplace said, and I didna dare inquire too closely.'
Hercules looked at her. 'How did that rogue of a brother of mine do it? How did he get the loveliest and bravest woman in this wild land to fall in love wi him?' He gave her a grin so like Bothwell's that her heart turned over. 'He's always been lucky, the devil!'
She couldn't help but laugh. 'I am the one who's lucky, Hercules. He is a great man, my Francis.' She picked up her cloak from the settle. 'I had best go now. I'll be waiting for yer signal.'
The following day, Adam Leslie left Edinburgh, leaving his wife and Cat alone in the house. Almost immediately Fiona was at her younger cousin, demanding to know the name of Cat's lover. Cat laughed. 'Not yet, Ona, but in a few days ye will not only know his name, but ye'll meet him.' Fiona gnashed her teeth in frustration.
Two afternoons later an urchin knocked at the door of Fiona's house. Handing the maid a bouquet of white heather and wild red roses, he said, 'Fer the lady o' Glenkirk.' Exclaiming her delight, the little maid put the bouquet in a silver bowl and brought it to the Countess. Fiona raised an elegant eyebrow. 'Charming,' she said. 'Does this mean I am to meet the gentleman soon?'
'Tonight,' replied Cat 'Can ye get rid of the servants?'
'It's been done. Darling Cat, 'tis Midsummer Eve, and everyone will be celebrating.'
'Damn!' swore Cat. 'I should hae guessed! Fiona, tell yer servants that they may hae tomorrow off as well. Please do this for me. My lord will nae wish to be seen by other than you and me.'
Fiona agreed. 'They'll all be suffering the effects of too much ale, wine, and lovemaking, and be no use to me anyway. Oh, cousin! I am fascinated! Who is this man?'
'Bothwell,' said Cat softly.
'But he's in prison!' said Fiona, and then her smoky-gray eyes widened and she clapped her hands over her mouth.
Cat had to laugh, but Fiona recovered quickly. 'Ye
Cat choked back a fit of giggles, for she could see that Fiona was quite serious. 'Nay, cousin. Francis is no warlock or wizard, and he makes love very nicely, thank ye.'
'How did ye meet him, Cat?'
'At court. He was my friend then, not my lover.'
'He has a wife, Cat.'
'He is divorcing her as I am divorcing Glenkirk. We'll be wed by year's end, Fiona.'
'Does Glenkirk know about Bothwell? Does the King?'
'Nay. Neither of them does. Say nothing, Fiona. I would rather no one know until Francis and I are safely wed.'
