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.

At this time Patrick Leslie decided to go home to check on his estates, and to see his other children. Unlike his wife, he had no official duties to keep him at court. Cat could not, however, be spared from service with the queen. Desperately she tried to forestall her husband's departure, but he laughed indulgently at her and teased, "Two years ago ye would hae rather died than go home to Glenkirk in winter. Now I believe ye would walk home!" Kissing her goodbye, he reassured her, "I'll be back in a few weeks, hinny. Would it cheer ye if I brought Bess wi me?"

"Nay, my lord! This court is no place for a young girl." She looked up at him astride Dubh. "Go carefully, Patrick, and come quickly back to me!"

There was something in her eyes that, for a moment, made him wonder if he should leave her. Then, laughing at himself for being a fool, he bent, kissed her again, and rode off.

It was not her night to serve the queen so, gaining permission, she went to Glenkirk House. The king would not dare chance seeking her out when the queen was available. She slept safe in her own home for the next few days. Soon it was her turn to sleep in the royal antechamber, on call in the event Anna required something, and she was again safe from the king.

At the end of her duty period the queen took her aside. "I would prefer, my dear Cat, that you not leave the palace at night when you are not on duty. Are your apartments not comfortable?"

"Aye, madame. They are most comfortable. I go home so that my sons may see me easily when their duties allow."

The queen smiled indulgently. "You are a good mother, Cat, but you are also a lady of my bedchamber. We will arrange for you to see your sons, but please remain near me at night. I awoke once with a terrible pain in my temple, and you were not there to rub it away."

"As your majesty wishes," replied Cat, curtsying. She knew full well where the idea that she remain in the palace had really come from.

Several days later the queen's monthly indisposition occurred, and that same evening the king appeared in the Countess of Glenkirk's bedchamber. First she tried to hold him off with reason, but he refused to listen. He came at her and she fought him physically, her little fists beating at him. It amused him to master her and he did so, cruelly, ravaging her body. She recoiled from his touch and hated him with a frustrated fury she could not satisfy. She was forced to endure his attentions for the next four nights.

Every morning and every evening Cat prayed for her husband's speedy return. Not a day went by that the king didn't steal a few minutes to be alone with her. That she detested him seemed to add to his pleasure.

One night as she undressed after the evening's entertainment, he appeared through the secret door. She wore only her white silk petticoats, and stood before her pier glass brushing her long dark-gold hair. Slipping up behind her, James slid an arm around her waist, and with his other hand cupped a globe-shaped breast.

Cat closed her eyes wearily, patiently enduring his unwelcome attentions. She had learned by now that to struggle was useless. As the king buried his lips in the soft flesh of her neck, a faint sound caught Cat's ear. Opening her eyes she saw her husband reflected in the pier glass, his face stiff with shock and hurt.

She would never remember in later years if she spoke his name aloud or merely mouthed it silently. It was enough, however, to rouse him, and his voice was icy. "I beg yer pardon, madame. I had nae idea ye were entertaining."

"Patrick!" she cried. "Patrick, please!" She tore herself from the king's grasp and took several steps toward him.

Behind her James Stewart looked at the Earl of Glenkirk. "I find yer wife charming, cousin, and I have been doing so for some time now. Do ye object?"

"Aye, sire," replied the earl, "I do object. Though little good it would do me, especially since the lady is so acquiescent." He turned to his wife. "I hope, my dear, ye have gotten a good price for yer virtue?"

"Come, cousin," soothed the king. "Dinna be angry wi Cat. She has done her duty by the crown admirably." He smiled winningly at the earl and, taking him by the arm, led him into the antechamber. "Let us hae a wee drink, Patrick. Yer wife keeps some remarkably fine whisky."

Numbly Cat continued the business of getting ready for bed. She was grateful she had dismissed Ellie for the evening. The tiring woman would only have tried to help her, and made matters worse. Kicking her petticoats off, she pulled a silk nightgown over her head and lay down on top of her bed. She could hear the low murmur of voices in the next room as well as the clink of crystal glasses.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but suddenly she felt a slap on her hip, and Patrick's voice-slurred with drink-said, "Wake up, madame whore! Here's two customers for ye!"

Angrily she scrambled to her feet. "Yer drunk! Both of ye! Get out of my bedroom! I canna stand the sight of either of ye!"

"Not so drunk we canna fuck! Right, cousin Jamie?” Grasping the bodice of her nightgown, Patrick ripped it to the hem, tore the two pieces off her, and flung them across the room. "Get into bed, my dear, virtuous wife, and open yer legs for the king. Ye've done it before, and very well, according to our royal cousin." He pushed her back onto the bed and before she could protest, the king was on top of her, driving into her unwilling body.

She was neither ready nor willing for the assault, and its effect was that of forcible rape. She struggled wildly beneath James, which merely increased his desire. He came quickly. Rolling off her, he said, "Yer turn, Patrick," and before a shocked Cat realized what was happening her husband had mounted her and pushed deep within her.

She could hear her own screaming.

Her thighs were sticky with another man's seed, and yet he took her. Outraged, she fought him violently, and – was slapped into unconsciousness for her pains. Throughout the night they took turns raping her and drinking her whisky, until at last, in that darkest part of the night before dawn, a drunken James Stewart returned to his room via the secret passage and the very drunk Earl of Glenkirk fell into a deep sleep.

Fearful at first of awaking him, Cat lay quietly. Then, sure he was really asleep, she crawled slowly from the bed. Moving quietly and painfully across the room to the fireplace, she stirred up the fire and added some kindling, then heated the hanging kettle over it. Pouring some water into a small ewer, she took a cake of soap and a rough linen cloth and scrubbed herself until her skin was raw. Next she went to the trunk at the foot of the bed and, lifting out her woolen trunk hose, silk riding shirt, and plaid doublet, put them on. She pulled on her boots, picked up her fur-lined cloak, and silently left the apartment.

It was not yet dawn when she entered the stables. The boy on duty was fast asleep, half-buried in a pile of straw. Quickly Cat saddled Iolaire. She dared not take Bana, as she would have been spotted easily on the white mare. Leading the gelding from the stable stealthily, she mounted it and, muffling herself in her cloak, rode boldly up to the main exit of the palace.

"Messenger for Leslie of Glenkirk," she croaked in a husky voice.

"Pass," said the soldier, thinking how glad he was not to have to ride out at this early hour.

She rode south and slightly east, keeping away from the main roads. She was aware of neither the bitter cold nor approaching daylight. She felt neither hunger nor thirst. Several times she stopped to water and rest her horse, and when evening came she sought her bearings. Finding them, she headed for a small religious house, where she begged a night's shelter. Up at first light, she left a gold piece with the startled nun who kept the gate. Mounting Iolaire, she continued on her journey.

At midday she was spotted by two riders. Cat put her horse into a gallop but, unsure of the countryside, was quickly run down. She found herself facing two bearded young borderers, who grinned delightedly at her.