Love Wild and Fair

Bothwell know you are coming?'

'No. I dared not communicate with him before I left Glenkirk. I will arrange with our Paris bankers to send a message to Naples.'

'I think he will be a very happy man,' remarked the cleric. 'When he was here at King Henri's court he seemed so… so…' The priest struggled for the right word. '… so incomplete! I realize that sounds strange, but something seemed to be missing in him and for him. Now I know what that something was.'

Cat's face lit up, and Niall was staggered by the sudden flash of pure beauty. 'Mon Dieu, cherie! You almost make me regret my vows of celibacy!' he said.

Her clear laughter rang within the coach. 'You definitely have the Leslie charm, mon pere. It is a good thing you have taken holy orders. There are already too many lusty Leslie men running about this earth!'

They continued their journey through Picardy into Isle de France, and up to Paris. Cat was enchanted with the city, and quite amazed to discover how unlike London, Edinburgh, or Aberdeen it was. She had assumed that all big cities were much alike. Paris was unlike any place she had ever seen. Now she understood why the current king had switched his allegiance from Protestantism to Catholicism in order to end religious wars in France, remarking that 'Paris is well worth a Mass.'

Cat would be staying with her Uncle David, whose house was thirty miles southeast of Paris, near the royal residence of Fontainbleau. When they reached the far side of the city, Niall instructed the coachmen as to the proper roads to travel, and rode on ahead so David Leslie de Peyrac might know of his niece's imminent arrival.

It was late afternoon when the coach and its escort drew into the courtyard of the Chateau Petit. Before Cat's grooms could jump down, two liveried footmen were at the coach door, opening it, lowering the steps, and helping Cat down. An elegant gentleman stepped forward. Had he not looked so like her mother, Cat would not have recognized him as her uncle. Smiling, he kissed her on both cheeks. 'Catriona, welcome to France!' The Sieur de Peyrac drew forward a tall, dark-eyed woman. 'Your Tante Adele.'

Cat curtsied.

'Welcome to Petit Chateau,' smiled Adele de Peyrac. 'I am sorry your visit must be so short.'

'Nonsense, ma femme! Catriona will stay as long as she likes!'

'It will not be long, uncle. I am bound for Naples, and I must reach there without delay. I stop only long enough to arrange for a new wardrobe in Paris, and to rest.'

'You need not travel back to the city,' said Adele. 'I have an excellent dressmaker who will come to the chateau. We will send for her tomorrow morning.' And taking Cat's arm in a firm grip, she led her up the main staircase to an exquisitely decorated suite of rooms.

As the doors closed behind them, Cat pulled out of her aunt's grasp and, whirling about, said, 'Very well, tante, let us talk!'

Adele de Peyrac smiled. 'Good. You are sensible. Tell me quickly now why have you come to France. I certainly hope you do not think you can make your home with us now that your son is married.'

Cat was incredulous. The woman must be mad! 'God's bones, madame! Why on earth would I want to live with you?'

'Do not be angry, my dear,' replied Adele. 'We all know that a dowager countess has far less access to the gracious life as her son's mother than she had as her husband's wife. Perhaps you and your son's new wife do not get along, and it has been necessary for you to remove yourself? I do not imagine it is easy to be poor.'

Cat resisted the strong urge to slap the smug face before her. 'Madame,' she said icily, 'I do not know what gave you the erroneous idea that I am poor, but I beg to inform you that I am a very wealthy woman in my own right. I was when I married Glenkirk, and I still am. If I chose to I could live with my son and his bride, who is a sweet and loving girl. However, I prefer to remarry. I am on my way to Naples to do just that!'

'Remarry whom?'

'Lord Bothwell,' said Cat evenly.

'Mon Dieu! He is a savage, and yet he is most charming, or so I have been told.' With this pronouncement Adele de Peyrac left the room.

Susan sniffed. 'She doesna like us, does she, my lady?'

Cat laughed. 'No Susan, she doesna like us.'

'How long must we stay here, my lady?'

'Just a few weeks, Susan.’Tis still winter, and I would wait a bit.'

The following night Cat met her Uncle Donald and his wife, Renee, who was as warm with her Scots niece as Adele was cold. 'I wish you had stayed with us, chere Catherine. Adele is not a particularly hospitable woman.'

Cat patted the plump, dimpled hand. 'It's all right, ma chere tante. I only stay a few weeks, and then I am gone.'

Renee de la Provence leaned forward and whispered, 'I must speak alone with you as quickly as possible. Make some excuse to go to your room.'

A bit later, Cat discovered her Aunt Renee already awaiting her in Cat's room.

'Is it true, Catherine, that you are rich?'

Cat bit back her laughter, for the little woman looked so distressed. 'Yes, tante, I am rich.'

'Oh dear! Adele thought at first that you were poor, and she could barely wait for you to come and be as quickly gone. Tonight, however, she told me that you were rich, and that she intended wedding you to her eldest son, Giles.'

'Impossible!' Cat was angered and astounded. 'I travel south to wed with Lord Bothwell. Besides, I thought all the de Peyracs were wed.'

'Giles is a widower, and though he is my own nephew, I must tell you I do not like him. He was married for five years to the daughter of my friend Marie de Valmaison. Two years ago the girl committed suicide. Before she was wed to Giles she was the sweetest-natured, brightest and sunniest girl imaginable! But afterwards she became quiet… and frightened, always looking to Giles for approval of every word she spoke. It was as if she feared him.'

'Do not fear for me, Tante Renee. I will wed no one but Francis Hepburn.'

'Nevertheless, child, beware Giles de Peyrac.'

Back in the main hall of the chateau, Cat was introduced to her six de la Provence cousins-five charming young men and their wives, and a delightful sixteen-year-old girl named Marguerite, whom everyone called MiMi. Then her Uncle David's sons and their wives were presented to her. She quickly understood her aunt's fear and dislike of Giles de Peyrac, although his brothers were all pleasant enough.

The eldest de Peyrac son was tall and as austere as his mother, with an almost Spanish look about him. His hair was dark, and his black eyes held a peculiar gold flame that flared when he was excited. He took her hand, turning it over to kiss the inside of her palm and quickly tickling it with his wet tongue. Cat snatched her hand back, outraged. She was furious and repelled by his behavior, as well as disgusted by the strange eyes that plunged deep into her decolletage and slowly swept upward to her face.

'We have much in common, ma belle cousine,' said Giles de Peyrac. 'We are both left widowed in our prime, and,' he paused, 'we are both experienced.'

She ignored the remark, giving him a perfunctory smile, and turned away to talk with MiMi. But when it came time to sit down to the meal, she found him next to her. To Cat's intense embarrassment, he made a great fuss over her, choosing the choicest viands to put on her plate, and insisting she drink from his cup. She could barely manage to be civil. Quickly turning to her other dinner partner, she discovered it was Niall Fitz-Leslie. His eyes were brimming with amusement, and she said quietly in Gaelic, 'Do you not think my aunt is obvious in placing her odious son on one side of me, and a priest on the other?'