'No, Bothwell. There have been no banns read.'
'Waive them, my friend!'
The bishop smiled. 'Why should I, Francisco? My child,' he said, directing his gaze on Cat, 'how well do you know this man?'
'He is the father of my three youngest children, my lord bishop,' answered Cat. 'We would have been wed six years ago had our king not threatened the Cardinal of St. Andrew's with persecution of the church if he dissolved my marriage. Now I am a widow, and though King James seeks to make me his mistress, I fled my land to wed with Lord Bothwell. Please, my lord bishop, waive the banns. I have been traveling almost two months, and have come over a thousand miles. My lord and I have been separated three long years. Marry us tonight!'
'How long have you been widowed, my daughter?' asked the bishop.
'My first husband sailed for the new world two years ago this month. His ship never reached its destination.'
The bishop looked at the two people standing before him. They were certainly not impetuous children, but adults obviously in love. That in itself was unusual in marriage between people of rank. Then, too, the bishop liked Lord Bothwell, and believed that the sooner he was safe from Angela di LiCosa, the better. That the beauteous woman before him could separate Bothwell permanently from Angela he had no doubt.
'Very well, Francisco and Caterina. I will marry you tonight. Be at the Church of Santa Maria del Mare in Amalfi within the hour.'
'There is a consecrated chapel here in this villa, my lord bishop,' said Cat softly.
'Very well, my daughter. Here it shall be. When?'
'Give me but time to change my clothing.' She turned to Bothwell and spoke in Scots English. 'When I wed wi Patrick 'twas in a dressing gown, and I was already in labor wi Jemmie. All this winter I hae done nothing but prepare brides for their weddings. So, beloved, for you and for me, I shall take time to be a bride.'
He took her by the shoulders and kissed her forehead. 'Go along, my love. I shall see the bishop is comfortable.'
Bishop Pasquale settled himself comfortably and sipped appreciatively at the goblet of sweet pale-golden wine that Lord Bothwell handed him. 'I have always believed that you were born under a lucky star, Francisco, else your head would long ago have parted company from your shoulders. Your betrothed is a lovely creature. So the Scots king covets her?'
'Aye. He hides his lust from public view, but what he did to her-I shall not distress you with unsavory details. But before James Stewart forced her into his bed by threatening her family she was a good and faithful wife. She was called the Virtuous Countess, and that in itself was what first attracted him.'
'And when did you become involved with her, Francisco?'
'I knew her at court, but not until she was forced to flee from both the king and her husband-who was shocked and hurt to discover her dilemma-did we become intimate. We were friends, and she had nowhere else to go. What happened between us… simply happened. I have never known such happiness as I have with her. Nor have I ever known such agony as without her.'
The bishop nodded. 'My son,' he said, 'do you know how fortunate you are? I know kings who would give anything for what you have. Cherish it! Cherish this woman who makes you so happy! God has blessed you both greatly.'
At the end of the hour Cat reentered the salon with her two tiring women, and found only Conall awaiting her. He was dressed-to her amazement-in his Leslie kilt, and full highland regalia.
'Where did ye find that, man?'
He looked shocked. 'Ye dinna think I'd travel wi'out my kilt, lassie? If I'd died on the journey, what would ye hae buried me in, pray? However, 'tis in the capacity of yer father that I act now. Being yer nearest relative here, I shall lead ye to yer betrothed.' Offering her his arm, he swept her from the room and to the chapel. Behind them Susan and May, each in her finest, followed.
The chapel of the villa had been in existence longer than the house. It was small, and of Romanesque design. Used as a mosque by the villa's former owner, it had been rededicated to the Christian faith on the orders of Benjamin Kira, the Jewish banker who knew and admired his client's quiet devotion to the Roman faith in a Scotland turned Protestant. When he had been informed that the house purchased for the Countess of Glenkirk had an ancient chapel, Kira ordered it refurbished at his own expense. This was his gift to the extraordinary woman he had admired since her girlhood, and whom he would very likely never see again.
The chapel was simply furnished with a white marble altar topped by two magnificent heavy gold candlesticks studded with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and amethysts. There was a matching carved gold crucifix. The small windows were newly redone in precious stained glass, and the vigil lamps were of heavy ruby glass hand-blown in Murano, set into holders of filigreed gold and silver. The entire chapel glowed softly in the light of at least fifty beeswax tapers.
As Conall led her down the chapel aisle to the altar, Cat saw her six houseservants and all of her Glenkirk men standing witness to the ceremony. No one would be able to question the legitimacy of this marriage. As her eyes swept past them she saw Bothwell waiting for her. He, like Conall, was attired in full dress kilt. Suddenly clearly aware of what was happening, she smiled happily at him.
He smiled back at her, his eyes shining approval of her gown. The sleeveless lilac silk overdress glowed softly in the candlelight, and the slightly darker underskirt with its gold and pearl embroidery shimmered. The sleeves of the underdress were of lilac gauze, and her rounded arms gleamed seductively through them. Her honey-colored hair was parted in the center and caught up over her ears in a mass of ringlets that spilled down over the back of her neck and shoulders. She wore a misty mauve veil topped by a small crown of sweet-smelling night-blooming white flowers.
Conall solemnly led Cat up to Lord Bothwell and placed her slim hanad firmly into his. 'Treat her well, man,' growled Conall huskily, 'or ye'll answer first to me before the young earl has a go at ye!'
'She is my life,' returned Bothwell quietly, meeting Conall's look evenly.
As the ceremony got underway, their joy was so great that neither quite believed it was happening. They went through the ceremony in a haze, hearing the bishop's words vaguely and responding automatically. And then it was over. They were wed! For a moment they stood staring at each other. Then they began to smile at one another, and they could not stop. Finally the bishop stepped down and put an arm about them. 'It is true, my children. You are wed. Do I dare hope there is a bit of wine left with which we may toast this happy occasion?'
Cat blushed, which the bishop found charming in a woman over thirty. Bothwell laughed happily and, pulling himself together, put an arm about his wife and led the way back to the main part of the villa, where Maria and Paolo had rushed ahead to bring up several bottles of wine from the cellars. A few of the Glenkirk men had brought their bagpipes with them, and they began to serenade the newlyweds. Cat gazed at them intently. There was one wedding gift that only her men could give her husband.
Standing before them during a lull in their playing, she spoke quietly. 'My mother was born a Leslie of Sithean, and I was wed for eighteen years to the Glenkirk. Tonight ye hae been witnesses to my second marriage to the Earl.of Bothwell. We are both exiled from Scotland, exiled by our king, who threatened the Leslies with destruction unless I became his mistress. What ye hae just witnessed in the chapel of this villa is my answer to King James. Ye hae protected me loyally, and brought me safely to my dear husband. Now ye must decide what yer futures will be. Ye may return to your homes at Glenkirk, and ye’ll hae my blessing. Or ye may pledge yerselves to the Earl of Bothwell. The choice is yers.'
Conall stood. 'The men who came wi ye came because there is nothing to keep them at Glenkirk. We are happy to pledge ourselves to Lord Bothwell… but on one condition. Should the Leslies or our homeland ever need us, we will go.' He directed his gaze to Bothwell. 'We know that ye would go under those circumstances if ye could, sir.'
Francis nodded. 'I would,' he said. Turning to his wife, he said simply, 'Thank ye, love.'8
She smiled back at him. 'I will retire now, my lord,' she answered
She hurried up the stairs to the master bedchamber, followed by her women. Silently, the three women removed Cat's gown and petticoats. While Susan hung the gown within the armoire and May brought Cat’s basin of warm, scented water, Cat rolled her stockings off. Naked, she took the cloth handed her and washed herself. Pulling
