Patrick's hands fell to his side. "Do ye know what I did to her, Adam, when I found her wi Jamie? I got drunk wi the king, and then we took turns wi her. All night, brother. Drink and fuck! Drink and fuck! She's run away from me, brother. I would gie my life to find her and beg her forgiveness!"
"Christ, man!" said Adam Leslie in shocked disbelief. "What a fool ye are! I dinna think she'll ever forgie ye for that, but I'll help ye to find her. God knows ye dinna deserve her. Where hae ye looked?"
"Our house in Edinburgh. Here. Mother tells me she's nae at Greyhaven, or at A-Cuil. She's obviously not in yer house, or ye'd hae told me. Could she hae gone to Sithean?"
"I'll ride over," said Adam, "ostensibly to bring Fiona's greetings to her parents. If there's been any word, our sister Janet will know and tell us."
But they soon knew that Cat was not at Sithean. Nor was she hiding in Crannog village with old Ruth. They had exhausted all the logical possibilities, and in the days that followed they checked back in Edinburgh with the Kiras. Cat had not withdrawn any of her vast funds, either in person or through an intermediary. The Earl of Glenkirk was becoming genuinely frightened. His wife has disappeared over a month ago, without a trace and without funds to sustain her. There were only two answers. Either someone was hiding Cat-and they could think of no one with whom she was that friendly -or else she was dead.
Chapter 24
FRANCIS Hepburn awoke at first light and lay quietly for a few minutes enjoying the silence before the birdsong. Turning carefully, he looked at Cat. She lay curled into a tight ball like a small child. In sleep she looked so innocent
Suddenly she awoke, opened her green eyes, and stretched. "Good morrow, my lord," she smiled up at him.
He smiled back, thinking how very much he wanted to make love to her now. "I hae a surprise for ye today, Cat. I'm taking ye riding."
A frightened look come into her eyes. "Patrick," she said.
"Patrick will eventually find ye, my darling, but 'twill be a long time before word gets to him, and then I promise to protect ye. Only someone who knows ye could tell him anyhow, and my people are loyal to me. They could see ye ride naked the length of the shire, and would nae admit to it."
She laughed. "All right, my lover, but I will need fresh clothes. Mine are worn, and I'd nae shame ye."
"Look in the trunk by the door, Cat I brought some things back from my last raid."
She admired the silk underclothes, several pairs of green trunk hose in finely spun sheer wool, and a half-dozen cream-colored silk shirts with pearl buttons. There was a soft brown leather jerkin with small buttons of polished staghorn banded in silver, and a wide brown leather belt with a silver-and-topaz buckle. It didn't take Cat more than a minute to realize that he had had the clothes made for her. She rose from the trunk and turned. "Yer so good to me, Bothwell," she said softly. "Thank ye."
He got up from the bed. "I'll get ye some water to bathe," he answered gruffly.
She blocked his way. Standing on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms about his neck and kissed him. His hands stroked her long back, and her soft, silken buttocks. "Christ, you witch! Dinna tempt me now!" But he was already hard, hungry for her. Sweeping her up, he lay her back on their bed. His lips found hers again, and his body gently possessed her body. She sighed happily, and Francis Hepburn laughed low. "Little witch! Why can I never get enough of ye?"
"Or I of you, my lover," she murmured.
Afterwards they fell asleep, and it was not until the sun was well up that they awoke again. He brought water, and they washed, Going to the little trunk, she chose a set of lace-trimmed underwear, a shirt, trunk hose, the jerkin and belt. When she had finished dressing she found he wore a matching costume. Cat bound her hair back with a green velvet ribbon and, with a smile, Bothwell placed a small bonnet of Hepburn plaid on her golden head.
"Ye'll need new boots, lass." He dug deep into her trunk, and pulled out a pair. They were as soft as butter. "Ye'll find some silk and lace nightgowns in there too."
"How did ye do it, Francis? How?" She pulled the boots on.
"I'm the Wizard Earl, remember?"
Laughing, they descended the stairs and left the lodge. Cat's bay gelding, Iolaire, and Bothwell's great dark-red stallion, Valentine, awaited them. They spent the day riding the Northumbrian hills that separated Scotland from England. When hunger overtook them they stopped at a small cottage. The welcome was warm for Bothwell and his lady. Dark bread warm from the oven with fresh sweet butter, a broiled rabbit, and brown October ale satisfied them.
"Ye eat well here on the borders," Cat remarked to the woman of the house. She had a disturbingly familiar look.
"My father was the last earl, James Hepburn," laughed the woman, whom Bothwell called Maggie. "Cousin Francis sees we're well taken care of, don't ye, lovey?"
The earl smiled at Maggie. "I do, though keeping up wi Uncle James' obligations is a mighty task."
"Made greater," she shot back at him, "by yer desire to better his record."
They laughed. Francis kissed Maggie's cheek. Then he helped Cat into her saddle and, mounting Valentine, led the way back over the hills. He did not, however, take her back to the lodge. "I want to go to Hermitage," he said quietly. "‘Tis my home, and I want ye there. Will ye come wi me?"
"Yes," she answered him. "I am nae ashamed to be yer woman, Francis."
"I dinna think of ye as my woman, Cat. I think of ye as my wife… perhaps not in the eyes of your church, or the kirk, or even in the eyes of our fellow men. But as God created us, he meant us to be together. I intend that we shall be, my darling."
They rode proudly into Hermitage together, and Cat discovered that he had prepared for her, hoping she would come with him. The rooms of the Countess of Bothwell with its bedroom adjoining the earl's awaited her. They were newly refurbished with deep-blue velvet draperies and bed hangings, and a bedspread embroidered with the Hepburn lions in gpld.
"These rooms hae nae been used since the earl's mother, Lady Janet, died," said the little maid. "And," continued the girl, "before that Queen Mary stayed here! What a to-do the earl created, my lady, to get these rooms ready for ye! He told the housekeeper he was nae sure if ye'd even come, but if ye did he wanted the rooms fresh and inviting. It took a dozen women ten days to sew the bedspread alone!"
"What of Lady Margaret?" asked Cat. "Does she not stay here when she is at Hermitage?"
"Nay," replied Nell. "Her ladyship doesna come to Hermitage at all. She doesna like it. It frightens her, being so close to the border. Her first husband was Scott of Buccleuch from near here. She was caught in several raids, and it terrified her. She told the earl when they married that she'd nae come here ever. She loves Crichton best." Then, embarrassed by her talkativeness, she said hurriedly, "Ye'll be wanting a bath after yer long ride. I'll have it brought right up!"
Bustling out, she left the Countess of Glenkirk to look about her bedroom in amazement. It was a square, paneled room with two great leaded windows to her left, each with a built-in window seat. Each seat held a tufted pale-blue velvet cushion. Directly in front of her was a large stone fireplace with a carved marble mantel. Behind her was the door from the antechamber. To her right was the door to Francis' bedroom.
The polished oak floors were covered in thick Turkish carpets, mostly blues and golds with a touch of rose. The furniture was sparse, as was usual in a Scots house. On the wall near the antechamber door was a tall wardrobe. On the wall facing the windows was the huge bed and a nightstand. Between the windows, a round, highly polished table held a large, oval-shaped silver bowl filled with coral-pink winter roses. By the fireplace was a settle and a large comfortable chair. Scattered about the room were other simple chairs.
Burying her face in the roses, she inhaled their heady fragrance. "From my greenhouses," he said proudly. She turned to face him. Her eyes were wet, the dark-gold lashes separated. "I am always saying thank you to ye, Francis. Somehow it doesna ever seem enough."