Then Patrick announced that the king had delegated him to go to Hermitage Castle with Francis Hepburn, its master, and make arrangements for Twelfth Night Revels. The queen had expressed a desire to see Both-well's famous border home. Hearing her husband's news, Cat hurried to her mistress.
“May I go wi them, yer majesty?" she pleaded prettily. "What do men know of women's comforts? As Lady Bothwell never leaves Crichton, she will be no help."
The queen laughed. "It is a scandal how much you love your husband, my dear Cat. Yes, yes! Go along with the handsome Glenkirk. I do not blame you for wanting to be with him. Now that Christina is well again, I can get along without you for a few days."
"Thank ye, madame," said Cat, kissing the queen's hand.
"Thank you for taking such good care of my childhood friend in her illness," said the queen meaningfully.
Cat curtsied and exited. Safe outside, she chuckled to herself. Mistress Anders' predicament had been kept a discreet scandal. The Danish noblewoman had been delivered of a daughter in October. The child, Anne Fitz-Leslie, was being boarded with a healthy young farming family, near the city. The queen repaid the Countess of Glenkirk's generosity by letting her go with her husband on king's business.
Catriona and Patrick rode with Francis Hepburn at the head of Bothwell's borderers. The evening was clear and cold, with a heaven full of stars and a bright moon. They had left in late afternoon and they rode the entire night, breaking their journey several times to warm themselves with dreams of potent, smoky whisky in nameless inns. Wherever they stopped, the welcome was always a warm one for the Earl of Bothwell and his men.
Back at Holyrood, James Stewart hummed a little tune to himself as he slipped through the secret passageway that connected his bedroom with Cat Leslie's. The queen would be unavailable to him for a few days, her womanly time being upon her. He had sent Patrick Leslie off with Bothwell. And now the king looked forward to rediscovering the Countess of Glenkirk. Opening the door at the end of the passage, he stepped into the room and was confronted by a startled Ellen, who curtsied low.
"Where is your mistress?" demanded James.
"Gone to Hermitage, your majesty," stammered Ellen.
"I dinna gie her permission to leave court! Shell be punished for this disobedience!"
"The queen sent her, sire," said Ellen desperately.
"What?"
"The queen sent my lady to Hermitage wi my lord of Glenkirk, and my lord of Bothwell," repeated Ellen. "Her majesty felt a woman's touch would be needed in the preparations for Twelfth Night."
James managed to master the anger growing within him. Reaching into the pocket of his dressing gown, he grudgingly drew out a gold piece. Handing it to Ellen, he said quietly, "Tell yer beautiful mistress that I will nae gie her up." Then he reentered the secret passage, which closed behind him.
Ellen sat down on the bed with a relieved sigh. Now she understood Cat's hasty departure. Ellen disliked the king's hypocrisy intensely. He played the moral man and the devoted husband while lusting after another woman. If only they could go home.
It was not, however, to be so simple. Like a cat at a mousehole, the king watched and waited for his opportunity. It made no difference to James that what he had already done to Cat was wrong according to the laws of the very church he was sworn to uphold. There was one thing which all the dour churchmen who had raised him couldn't erase from the royal Stewart's mind, and that was the absolute fact of the divine right of kings. Like the five Jameses before him, this James upheld the laws of the land and the church only after his own wants had been satisfied.
In attempting to punish the king by being the most exciting woman he would ever encounter, Cat had unwittingly infected him with a sexual hunger that only she could now satisfy. Her coldness enraged him. He would have her if he had to ask her husband for her. That he might destroy her marriage and perhaps even her whole life made no difference to the king. The Countess of Glenkirk was his subject. She belonged to him. She would obey him.
Like the good hunter he was, the king stalked his prey and smelled its fear. While the court stayed at Hermitage Castle he did manage, for a few minutes, to separate her from the rest of the crowd. Finding herself alone with the king, Cat looked frantically around.
James laughed. "Would I could take ye here in just the few minutes we have, my dear, but alas, I canna."
She said nothing.
" Twas neatly done, madame," the king continued, "but why did ye run away from me, Catriona? I sent Patrick away before I came to ye. And what did I find? Yer tiring woman packing yer clothes, and a cold, empty bed."
Cat's heart was pounding violently, and she was icy with a mixture of fear and anger. Gathering her courage, she looked up at him and spoke. "Jamie, I can say it no plainer. I dinna want to be yer mistress. Please, sire! Ye promised me that when ye brought the queen home ye would free me. I love my husband, and he is nae a man to share his wife wi another-even his king. Why do ye do this to me, Jamie? Yer wife is a fresh and lovely girl open to yer instruction in the arts of love. Why must ye hae me?"
He didn't answer her question. Instead he said quietly, "When we return to Edinburgh I expect ye to receive me, madame, without any further argument If ye will not, I will be forced to ask Patrick's permission, which ye know he will gie me. If, however, ye come freely we will continue to keep our liaison secret from the rest of the world-including yer husband."
Her lovely eyes shone with tears. "Why, sire? Why?"
"Because, madame, I wish it, and I am the king," he said coldly, and walked away from her.
For several minutes she stood very still gazing with unseeing eyes out of the window at the Cheviot Hills. Then, sensing she was no longer alone, she whirled about to see the Earl of Bothwell standing there. Wordlessly they looked at each other, and then Francis Hepburn held out his arms to her. Flinging herself into them, she wept against his velvet-covered chest. A spasm crossed Bothwell’s face as his arms tenderly held her. When she had regained her control he loosed her. Tipping her heart-shaped face up, he asked, "What happened wi Cousin Jamie?"
"I yield, or he asks Patrick," she answered softly.
"The little bastard!" snarled Bothwell. "What a pity the queen dinna miscarry of him."
"Francis, hush!" She covered his mouth with her hand. "To even think such a thing is treason."
He tore her hand away and swore softly. "I wish to God I was the warlock they accuse me of being! I'd like to send Cousin Jamie to the seven devils! Ah, my darling, I canna help ye, and I hae never felt so helpless in my whole life." He took her by the shoulders and looked down at her. "If I can ever help ye, come to me. Ye will remember that?" Then he took a large silk square from his doublet and wiped the tears from her face.
Her slender hand reached up and gently touched his face.
"Bothwell," she said softly, "yer the best friend Fve ever had." Then she turned and left him standing in the little windowed alcove.
Francis Hepburn gazed out at the familiar Cheviot and sighed. For the first time in his life he had found a woman he could love, and not only was he married but she was also married. To add a further complication, she was lusted after by the king. The irony of the situation struck him, and he laughed sharply. Once again life had dealt him a bad hand.
Chapter 21
THE court had settled comfortably back into Edinburgh. It was dull January. The Leslies' two oldest sons were also at court, having joined the household of Andrew Leslie, the Earl of Rothes, head of Clan Leslie. It was a relief to Cat to be able to see at least two of her children.