"Your wife?"

"She was not with him, Maitland. Yer information was incorrect. Bothwell knew it was a trap, and left her safe at Hermitage."

"Ye dinna seem to mind that your wife plays Bothwell's whore," said Maitland venomously.

Glenkirk was at his throat before the words had died in the chancellor's mouth. One big hand held the chancellor tightly at the neck, the other held a dirk to his plump belly.

"Ye are close to death, Master Maitland." The chancellor's eyes bugged, terrified. "Did yer mother never teach ye, Master Maitland, not to talk ill of yer betters? Whatever the problems between my wife and myself, they stem from the king, as ye well know, Master Maitland." Glenkirk stressed the chancellor's lack of a title, which he knew was a sore point with the man. "Dinna think," the earl continued, "I dinna know that ye seek to complicate those problems in yer desire to destroy Lord Bothwell and his influence, Master Maitland. Well, I dinna gie a damn for yer politics! My only interest is in seeing Catriona kept safe." He gave the chancellor a shake. "Yer a fine statesman I've no doubt, Master Maitland, but ye know nothing of human nature. Ye took Cousin Jamie's lust for my wife and used it to fan the fires of his envy of Bothwell. Had ye kept silent, Francis and Cat would hae been married and gone from Scotland." Maitland's eyes widened in surprise. "Aye," said Glenkirk. "They were willing to accept exile. Now, ye fool, ye hae cornered them, and Christ, man! How Bothwell is going to fight James to keep her! How many lives and how much money will be spent in this war between the crowned and the uncrowned king?" He loosed the chancellor and pushed him away.

Maitland rubbed his throat, then spoke. "Ye love her still, my lord. I do not have to be a student of human nature to see that. How can ye let her go? Don't ye want her back?"

"Aye, I want her back, but she doesn't want me. And that, Master Maitland, is my fault. She loves Francis Hepburn, and if that makes her happy, then I want her to have him." He smiled sadly at the chancellor. "Ye dinna understand that kind of thing, do ye, Master Maitland? Ah, well. I'll nae try to explain." The earl picked up his cloak. "By the way, Bothwell's horse is below. I'm taking it home wi me. Home to Glenkirk, and my bairns. Ye'll gie my regrets to the king." And he walked from the room, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell as he descended.

Francis Hepburn rode with all haste back to Hermitage Castle and Catriona Leslie. He was torn. If he could just get to his cousin, the king. If James would only restore his lands to his eldest son! If only the king would allow the cardinal to give Cat her divorce, he would promise to take her and leave Scotland. If James understood their love, surely he would cooperate. If!. If! If! But first the chancellor must be gotten out of the way. His was the dangerous influence.

But the autumn was too beautiful for much worrying. The days were deliciously warm, and faintly hazed in purple. Bothwell rode a new stallion-a great dark-gray brute called Sian, which means "storm" in the Gaelic tongue. Cat and her lover rode alone, much as they had in the early spring. Sandy Home had gone to his own estates.

They enjoyed being alone together. The servants at Hermitage sensed this, and behaved with exquisite tact. In the cold clear evenings when the stars seemed brighter and nearer the earth than ever before, the lovers sat before the fire. Sometimes they were silent, sometimes they talked of what they would do when the king relented and allowed them to wed. Sometimes they sang together while he accompanied them on a lute. His voice was a deep baritone, hers a lilting soprano. The sounds of their happiness spread throughout the castle, causing the servants to smile indulgently. Never had they seen Francis Hepburn so calm, so happy. And why not? Lady Leslie was a sweet, gentle lady who loved their earl with all her heart.

Just before Christmas, Francis Hepburn gave to his beloved the best of all possible gifts. On a cold, bright mid-December afternoon a coach rumbled up the drive to Hermitage. As Catriona and the earl stood waiting, the coach lurched to a stop, the door opened, and four passengers jumped out.

Cat gasped, and then flew down the steps to meet her four oldest children, who were running up the steps towards her. Kneeling, she opened her arms and gathered them to her. "Oh, my bairns! My beautiful, beautiful, bairns!" She said it over and over again, and her face was wet with her tears. Standing, her arms still around the four children, she looked to Bothwell. He knew he had done the right thing.

He moved slowly down the steps. "Welcome to Hermitage," he said to the four young Leslies.

"Thank ye, my lord earl," the fourteen-year-old heir to Glenkirk spoke for them all. "We are grateful for the chance to see our mother again."

"The last time I saw ye, Jamie, ye called me Uncle Francis. Will ye do so again? Or perhaps, as ye are nearly a man, ye would prefer to call me just Francis."

The boy looked from the earl to his mother. He was confused. "Is my mother yer mistress?" he finally burst out.

"Jamie!"

"Nay, my darling, scold not the lad." He turned to young James Leslie. "Yes, lad. Yer mother is my mistress. She would be my wife but for the king, who is angry wi me and withholds permission for her divorce. If she had the divorce, we would have wed."

"Do ye no longer love our father?" asked nine-year-old Bess.

"I love Lord Bothwell, Bess. Your father and I will, however, remain friendly. Come now, my bairns!’Tis cold out here. Let us go inside the hall."

They brought the children into a comfortable chamber with a good fire, and the servants served watered wine and sweet cakes.

"Let me look at all of ye," she said happily. "Oh, Jamie! How ye have grown! Ye were nae taller than I when I saw ye last."

"I'll be going to the University at Aberdeen next autumn," he answered her proudly. "I will leave our cousin of Rothes in spring when Robert goes to be a page."

"I am so proud of ye," she told him, and he forgot his dignity long enough to hug her.

Her gaze lingered on her two younger sons, Colin, seven, and Robbie, six. Colin was already in service with the Earl of Rothes, and had begun to acquire the polish of a little courtier. His younger brother, still at Glenkirk, was yet a rough little highlander.

"Why did not Amanda and Morag come?" Cat asked.

"They are too young," answered Robbie with great superiority.

Bess shot him a quelling look that was so reminiscent of her grandmother, Meg, that Cat had to laugh. "Lord, my dear! How much like Meg ye look. Yer going to be quite lovely in a few years' time."

Bess blushed most becomingly, and said, "Grandmother Meg said she couldna bear Christmas wi all of us gone, and she knew ye would understand if she kept Manda and Morag."

"I do understand, lovey, and I am so glad to see ye four! How long can ye stay?"

"Colie and I must be back at Rothes' Edinburgh house no later than the week after Twelfth Night," said Jamie. "Bess and Robbie may stay all winter."

"Bothwell, ye wretch! Why did ye nae tell me? We must hire a tutor! Bess and Robbie canna miss a whole winter of lessons."

He laughed. "If I had told ye, 'twould not hae been a surprise. As to a tutor, I'll instruct the bairns myself this winter."

Francis Hepburn adored having Cat's children at Hermitage, and a whole new side of his character was revealed. He loved children, and he was good with them. After the initial discomfort over their parents' marital situation, the young Leslies of Glenkirk relaxed and enjoyed both Hermitage and the earl. How sad, thought Cat, that Margaret Douglas had estranged his own children from their father.

And in the dark of night when he lay deep within her he cried out, "Oh, my sweetest love! Gie me sons and daughters like Glenkirk's! Loving bairns of our own to raise in this new century that is coming."

She wanted to. Oh God, how she longed to have his child in her belly! Had she thought the king would relent if she became pregnant she would have done so, but knowing James' viciousness too well, she waited. The king was now using her against Bothwell, but if she and the earl became parents, their child would be the king's most valuable pawn. She was careful not to give him that pawn. But her heart ached, for she wanted Francis Hepburn's child desperately.

Chapter 30

ON Christmas day, as the Hermitage residents sat at dinner, two messengers arrived wearing the badge of the Duke of Lennox. Bothwell left the festive board and closeted himself with the men for close to an hour. When he returned, he said softly to Cat, "I must go to Edinburgh early in the morning. Dinna tell the bairns. I would nae spoil their day."

He finished his meal, and then called to the Leslie boys, "Come on, lads! I promised we'd go curling. Cat, love, please see to Lennox's men. Bess, will ye come and cheer us on to great victories?"

Cat saw to it that the duke's men were well fed and were given warm beds for the night, and that their horses were taken care of. Then, gathering up her cloak, she went to the little pond in the woods by the castle where the earl and her sons were playing at curls. Even little Bess had a broom, and was dashing wildly about the ice, her dark-brown curls flying, her cheeks rosy, her hazel eyes sparkling. Catriona Leslie didn't know who was enjoying the day more, Bothwell or the children. He was very handsome in his kilts, teamed with Bess against the three boys. Cat cheered them all on, her heart bursting with happiness. This was what she had wanted above all-her children, and Francis Hepburn. For this brief moment, she had it.

After they had seen the children safely to bed that night, they sat together in her bedchamber in a large chair before the fire. For a long time they said nothing. He absently stroked her lovely hair, and finally said, "Lennox says that Maitland seeks to have James put a price on my head. Maitland is spending Christmas at Holyrood wi their majesties. The turd! He tries to climb high, does Master Maitland. I must go to Edinburgh tomorrow and settle this thing once and for all. If I can see our royal cousin perhaps I can convince him to change his stubborn mind."

"See him when the queen is also present, Francis. He dare not let her guess the real reason why he refuses us. She is young, and she is soft-hearted. She will plead our cause because she likes us both. If ye can but get the king's signature on the divorce petition, my Uncle Charles says that a representative of the cardinal waits in Edinburgh to finish the transaction. One moment of weakness on Jamie's part, and we will be free to wed quickly before he can change his mind!"

Bothwell chuckled. "Are ye sure ye Leslies are nae cousins to the Medici? Yer great schemers." His hands began to wander, and she sighed contentedly. "Will ye be back in time for New Year's?" she asked. His mouth found the soft curve between her shoulder and her neck, and he kissed it. "I don't know, Cat. If I canna get here, the children's gifts are in my wardrobe, and your gift-" He stopped. "Nay. I'll not tell ye, for I want to gie ye yer present myself." He turned her so she faced him, kissed her, and then stood her up. "Let's go to bed, my darling."

Pushing the little ribbon straps from her shoulders, she allowed her nightgown to slide to the floor. "Will ye be gone very long, Bothwell?" She slipped into the featherbed.

Taking his own robe off, he joined her and pulled her close to him. "I'm nae sure how long I'll be gone," he said thickly as his desire for her rose.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but he kissed them away. And after their lovemaking she wept stormily in his arms.

"What is it ye do to me, Francis? Why is it ye can touch me as no one ever has before?"

"Do ye want to weep and shout all at once?" he asked. "I do! I think it has something to do wi loving each other." He kissed her tenderly. "Damn, I dinna want to leave ye, even for a few days!"

But he did, riding out before the sun was even up. She stood alone in the window of her bedchamber in the cold December dark, clutching her shawl to her breasts, and watched him go. She could still feel the hardness of his mouth on hers.

While she watched him riding away she prayed that the king would relent. James could not be so stubborn as to believe she would leave Francis Hepburn under any circumstances. Perhaps James had grown weary of fighting.