Love Wild and Fair (52 page)

“Well,” she whispered in a choked little voice. “Safe at Glenkirk wi Meg. Jemmie will send them to us when ‘tis safe. A few months at most, and then we shall be a family at last.”

His arms tightened about her, and his mouth brushed against hers. “I should like to be a bridegroom before I am a father, my darling.”

She laughed softly. “Perhaps ye should have thought about that before ye sired three children on me, my lord.”

“ ‘Tis siring the fourth one I’m looking forward to, my pet!”

The door to the salon opened on them, and a grinning Conall entered accompanied by Angus and a black-robed cleric. “So, Francisco! ’Tis you who summon me in such unruly fashion!”

“Bishop Pasquale! When did you get back from Rome?”

“This afternoon, and a good thing I did. These two wildmen came roaring into the church demanding a priest They frightened my priests half to death! What is your great need of a priest Bothwell? You don’t look to me as if you’re dying.”

The earl drew Cat forward. “My lord bishop, may I present to you Caterina Maria Leslie, the Countess of Glenkirk. We wish to be married.”

“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.”

She smiled back at him. “I will retire now, my lord,” she answered him softly.

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 a basin of warm, scented water, Cat rolled her stockings off. Naked, she took the cloth handed her and washed herself. Pulling the pins from her hair, she fiercely brushed her tawny mass until it gleamed in the candlelight. Susan slipped a simple long, loose gown of palest lilac over her, and then the two servants withdrew.

“Lord,” whispered young May in a shocked voice, “my lady Cat is overeager for her husband.”

“Nay, silly puss,” chided her older and wiser sister. “She but wanted time alone before he comes.”

“What on earth for?” asked May.

“Ye’d need to be more of a woman to understand that, pet.”

Puzzled, May shook her head.

Cat stood on one of the bedchamber balconies overlooking the moonlit garden. She welcomed the soft night air on her skin, and smelled the sweetness of the night blooms. Her mind was whirling. This morning she had wakened a widow, but now she was a bride awaiting her husband in their nuptial chamber. Everything had happened so quickly. For a moment she was frightened. Then she heard his voice.

“Cat.”

She turned and saw him standing across the room, gazing longingly at her. He held out his arms, and suddenly she was shy. She hesitated. Instantly comprehending her mood, he moved quietly across the room and gently enfolded her in his arms. His hand slowly caressed her silken hair, and a tremor ran through her. “ ‘Tis been a long, long time, my darling,” he said.

“I feel so foolish,” she whispered into his shoulder. “I am behaving like a virgin faced with a stranger instead of a grown woman faced with her beloved and wonderfully familiar husband.”

“Nay, my darling. I love yer shyness. Ye hae always had a charming innocence about ye that I love. If ye dinna want to make love we will not. I know ye are tired after yer long journey.”

“Francis! Kiss me!” And she raised her head up.

For a moment he gazed lovingly at the face turned expectantly to him. His slender fingers explored it, gently touching her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her nose, her mouth, her stubborn little chin. Then he bent, his arms circling her waist, pressing her against him. His mouth tenderly touched hers. He had always made love to her with incredible gentleness, and that had not changed. Yet she felt that tonight there lurked beneath the surface of that calm a fierceness that he was fighting to hold in check.

Deep within her a flame of passion flickered, and she shuddered. The mouth on hers suddenly became more demanding, and her arms slid up and around his neck. His hands caressed her long back, and she moaned softly, her body beginning to tremble weakly against his. Slowly he moved across the room until he felt the bed against the back of his legs. They fell to the bed. Turning quickly, he reversed their positions so that she was beneath him. Smiling down at her, he undid the row of tiny ribbons holding her gown together. She caught his hands, and their eyes met.

“Francis, I love ye! Dear heaven, how I love ye!”

“And I love ye, my beautiful, precious wife!” His head dipped low, and his mouth found her breast. She gave a soft cry, and he reassured her. “Only if ye want it, sweetheart.”

“But I do, Francis! How can I make ye understand how much I want ye? For three years—since that last night we made love in the guest house of Deer Abbey—I have dreamed of being in yer arms again … though I dinna believe it could happen. I have hungered for the feel of ye, the taste of ye! Other men have possessed me. My poor Patrick, who sought so desperately to regain that which he had lost Our cousin, James, who thought he could command my love and who used me like a common whore. I sheathed my body in a protective coating so they should nae destroy me. Tonight for the first time in three years I feel completely alive, Francis, and if ye dinna make love to me now, I shall die!”

“I hae always said,” he answered, smiling that slow smile she loved so, “that ye were the only woman who could keep up wi me. For three years I hae tried to forget ye between the legs of any woman who smiled my way. I dinna have to forget any longer, my sweet Cat. But I warn ye, my darling, my hunger is fierce this night!”

The leaf-green eyes regarded him levelly. “Do your worst, my lord!” she challenged, and pulling his head down, she kissed him slowly, tauntingly, daring him on.

He felt a stab of desire pierce him, and forcing her lips apart he ravaged her mouth tenderly. His tongue flickered across her taut breasts, teasing the nipples into hard little points. It moved on, sliding between the warm valley of her breasts and down to her navel. She cried out as a burning began and spread through her loins. Sated momentarily with her sweetness, he easily straddled her, lowering his head so his mouth might close over a pink and tempting nipple. She moaned beneath him, struggling to shift him into a closer proximity, her rounded hips thrusting upwards hungrily.