Virginia Henley (47 page)

He covered her hand. “We all have an Achilles’ heel.”

She slanted an amused glance at him. “I shall have to discover yours, my lord.”

He dipped his head and brushed his lips against her ear. “You are my weakness, Hellcat.”

She laughed up at him. Whether it was true or not, he always knew exactly the right thing to say.

“Catherine, you remember John Erskine, Earl of Mar?”

“I do indeed. Welcome to Whitehall, my lord.”

“Lady Catherine and I are about to be wed, Johnny.”

“Congratulations! Trust a canny Scot tae wed a Seton.” He winked at Cat. “Put a ring through his nose, lass.”

Patrick placed her hand on John’s arm. “Look after her for a moment, while I have a word with James.” He easily elbowed aside the men about the king and bent to murmur in His Majesty’s ear.

Catherine watched Hepburn breathlessly as he spoke with the new King of England. She saw James smile, then laugh, then nod his head in agreement.
Is he manipulating the king?

“Bruce! Where are ye, mon?” the king shouted. “We’re aboot tae celebrate our first weddin’.” When Edward Bruce, Abbot of Kinross, stepped forward, James said, “Ye can perform the nuptials, an’ I shall give the bonnie bride away.”

Catherine’s hand flew to her mouth and her cheeks flushed a delicate pink. “Patrick said the king would marry us today, but I scarce believed him.” She glanced at the people surrounding her and found they were all part of her extended family.

Philadelphia kissed her cheek. “You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen, darling.”

Her aunt Beth beamed as her husband, George, the new Lord Hunsdon, slapped Hepburn on the back and congratulated him.

Robert Carey ushered Isobel and Maggie to the front of the crowd milling about the king, and Catherine saw the expression on her mother’s face change from astonishment to smug satisfaction.

Arbella spoke up importantly. “I shall be your maid of honor.”

Catherine’s smile was tremulous. “Thank you, Arbella.” She felt Patrick tug on her hand and, following his lead, knelt before the king and the abbot. Edward Bruce’s accent was almost as broad as Jamie’s, and she couldn’t decipher his words. Patrick, however, must have understood.

“I will.” Hepburn’s voice was so deep it rumbled.

The abbot addressed Catherine and she had to concentrate to understand. When he paused expectantly, she said, “I will.”

“Who gi’eth this woman tae be wed tae this mon?”

“I, James Stuart, King o’ England an’ Scotland, gi’e this woman tae be joined in holy matrimony tae this mon.”

When Patrick firmly took her right hand in his, the contrast in size was so marked, it looked incongruous and she almost laughed. Then Patrick was repeating words that Bruce spoke, but to Cat’s ear they sounded totally different.

“I, Patrick, take thee, Catherine, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part.”

Without waiting for the abbot’s prompting, Catherine repeated what Hepburn had said. Bruce bent a stern eye upon her. “And to
obey,
” he admonished.

She nodded quickly. “Yes, love, cherish and obey.” She saw Robert spread his palms to show that they were empty, then she saw Patrick smile, reach into his doublet and bring out a gold wedding band.

His large hands were slightly clumsy as they found her third finger and managed to slip on the tiny gold circle. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

“I pronounce that they be mon an’ wife taegether.”

King James motioned for them to rise. “It is my great pleasure tae present Patrick and Catherine Hepburn, Lord and Lady Stewart.”

Without any prompting, Patrick lifted his bride in his arms and planted a kiss on her beautiful lips as a symbol of his possession. The throng cheered wildly, and when he set her down a loving cup of wine was pressed into the bridegroom’s hands.

As he held the cup to her lips, Catherine gazed up into his dark eyes, and the king, the Court and the entire world receded from her consciousness. Hepburn was her husband, her lord, her mate and her entire universe. Her heart overflowed with joy.

The next hour was taken up with people congratulating the newlyweds, but finally they managed to slip away from the crowds for a few private moments. “Tell Maggie to pack your things and take them to Spencer Park. David Hepburn will accompany her.” He brushed the backs of his calloused fingers across her delicate cheek. “We’ll only go as far as Richmond tonight, but don’t tell anyone that. Come on, we’ll have to put in a show at Jamie’s reception banquet, but eat quickly because I intend to spirit you away at the first opportunity.”

Within half an hour of the food and wine being served, the lovers made their escape from the banquet hall. Hands clasped, they went upstairs to Cat’s chambers, where Maggie had a small bag waiting that held only toilet articles and the new nightgown. Catherine covered her cream silk gown with a warm cloak, and as they were about to leave, Isobel opened the door.

Hepburn lifted her by the elbows and kissed her on both cheeks.

“Isobel, I charge you to give us at least a week alone before you descend on us in Hertford to make plans for the queen’s visit.”

Isobel simpered. “You have my word, Lord Stewart.”

“Good-bye Mother,” Catherine said breathlessly.

As the pair made their way to the stables, Cat remembered, “I have no horse, Patrick. Jasmine is at Richmond.”

“I will take you up before me. It won’t be the first time Valiant has carried us both. I have no intention of letting you out of my arms for the next twenty-four hours.”

V
aliant settled into an even, rhythmic, slow gallop as he followed the winding river road that led from Whitehall to Richmond. Catherine, filled with excitement, leaned forward eagerly, impatient to reach their destination. The lights and sounds from the Thames were the only things to penetrate the velvet darkness, and as she began to relax she realized that this night ride was deliciously romantic. Held fast in the powerful arms of Hepburn, she knew she had never felt this safe and secure before. She leaned back against his hard body, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The air was fragrant with lilac and the tang of the sea. The smell, mingled with the scent of leather and horse, became a potent aphrodisiac. Catherine shuddered at the intensity of the emotions that swept through her.

“Are you cold, my sweetheart?” Patrick’s arm tightened about her, drawing her closer to his body. His lips brushed her ear. “Slip your arms about me and share my heat.”

She turned so that she was facing him and slid her arms about his hard, muscled torso. Beneath her ear she could feel the steady thud of his heart, which she fancied was filled to overflowing with his love for her, and she went weak with longing.

As Cat snuggled against his body, Patrick became aware of how small and delicate she was. Desire pulsed at his groin with a sweet, almost unendurable ache. She lay softly between his thighs, and her breasts swelled against him, filling his arms and his lap with her loveliness. He wanted her in the bed like this, both of them naked. The heat from his body now mingled with hers, and the scent of her perfumed flesh intoxicated him. When a strand of her silken hair brushed across his cheek it aroused him so much that he became marble hard, in an agony of need, and he doubted that he’d ever grow soft again in her presence.

Slowly he became aware of how precious a prize she was. He realized that he was the luckiest man on earth to have found her, wooed her and won her. She was that rarest of treasures, a wealthy heiress who was not only a great Court beauty but also a maid who was innocent and had known no other man save him. Feelings of possessiveness and protectiveness rose up strongly. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and knew he would rather be here in the saddle with this woman between his thighs than anywhere else on earth tonight.

When they arrived at the Richmond stables, Patrick slid from the saddle and held up his arms. His bride came down to him in a flurry of petticoats, clinging to him sweetly, eagerly, and he held her imprisoned against his body for long minutes as his demanding mouth claimed hers in a dozen rapturous kisses. He took her small bag and turned Valiant over to a groom who had been told to expect them. When Cat heard Jasmine whinny a welcome, she hurried to her stall. “My lovely girl ... how I have missed you.”

Patrick waited, concealing his impatience. Finally he took her hand. “You can visit with Jasmine tomorrow. I need you tonight.”

She laughed up into his dark, demanding eyes, thrilled at the blazing desire she saw burning there. He wrapped a possessive arm about her, and as they reached the steps of the Richmond house, he swept her up against his heart and carried her over the threshold. He set her on her feet before the gathered servants.

“Lord and Lady Stewart, welcome to Richmond.” The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy and the others followed suit.

“How did you know we were married?” Cat asked in amazement.

“I sent them a note days ago to expect us,” Patrick declared.

She looked up at the man towering at her side. “But I didn’t know days ago,” she protested.

“I did.” Once again he swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. His teeth gently bit her earlobe. “I am your destiny, Hellcat. Surely you knew from the moment we met?”

Catherine looked at him in wonder. She did have a strange, heady feeling that their union was predestined.

Once they were safely inside her bedchamber, he kicked the door closed and set her feet to the carpet. “My own precious Cat, though I knew this day would come, I don’t know how I endured the endless wait. I never want us to be separated again.”

Her eyes flooded with tears at his touching declaration.

“Don’t you dare let those tears fall, my beauty. I’m a brute to make you cry.” He kissed her eyelids. “I want to make you delirious with happiness.” His fingertips wiped away her tears.

“Patrick, I’ve never been this happy in my life. You are my very own brute, and I love you just the way you are.”

He removed her cloak, then sat her down on the high bed and went down on his knees. “I kneel in awe at your delicate beauty, Cat. I vow to protect you always and swear you will never be sorry that you chose me for your husband.” He removed her shoes, then lifted her gown to peel off her stockings and garters. “My hands are so rough and clumsy, how can you bear me to touch you?”

“Your hands are big and powerful, and I crave your touch.”

“Will you allow me to undress you if I promise to be gentle?”

Her eyes filled with wonder. “You know how to be gentle?”

“I can try, sweetheart,” he promised earnestly.

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Try some other time, I beg you, my love. I wed a Border lord and tonight I want to be treated like your wench, Hepburn!”

He threw back his head and laughed until the cords of his throat looked like cables. He got off his knees, then lifted her so that she stood on the bed, and he reached up her skirt to pull off her drawers and petticoat. As his fingers fumbled to unfasten the tiny buttons on her gown, she inched up her skirt until her bare thighs were on a level with his face, then taunted him by lowering it to her ankles and beginning again. This time she lifted it even higher to reveal the black curls on her plump mons.

“You wicked little witch, hold still or I’ll ruin your gown.”

“Do you want me to be a decorous little bride, or do you want me to be a cock tease? You decide.”

He deftly managed the buttons and stripped her naked. “Let me undress, and I’ll do some cock teasing of my own!” He removed his clothes with the speed of a man who knew what he was about. He grabbed her ankles and toppled her to the bed, then launched himself on top of her, imprisoning her beneath his big hard body. He captured her lips, traced their outline with the tip of his tongue, then plunged inside with a ravishing kiss that plundered her mouth. He trailed his erection along her soft thighs, deliberately avoided her mons and rubbed it across her belly. When his cock touched her breasts, it began to buck and throb with the feel of her warm, silken flesh.

Cat reached up, slid her fingers around his hard length, squeezed gently and heard his groan of pleasure. She teased him until he was at the end of his endurance, cupping his large sac with her other hand until his entire groin was rigid and swollen with rampant need. Then she opened her legs and arched beneath him in wanton invitation, yielding wildly, generously, with a passion she could no longer control.

The mating was cataclysmic. The lovers had been apart far too long, and now their bodies couldn’t get enough of each other. When their climax came, it was strong, and their shudders went on and on as if they would never end.

Patrick gathered her in his arms and took her with him as he rolled his back onto the bed, enfolding her softness against him with her luscious breasts upon his muscled chest and her belly against his. He opened his thighs so that she lay between his long legs with her woman’s center resting on his groin—no longer rigid but still tumescent. He dipped his head to feather kisses into the curls at her temples and kissed her eyelids as she sighed with languorous pleasure at the great release he had given her.

His whispered love words mesmerized her, as his warm breath swept her neck and his lips touched her ear. At first his murmurs lulled her, sounding like the purr of a huge cat, and she stretched against him luxuriously. Gradually she became aware of the things he was saying and listened intently.