From the loft of the Huntley stables she could see nothing but hills and more hills. Disappointed, she was about to climb down when she saw her mother and Lord Bothwell enter the stables leading their horses. Elizabeth Leslie could not have said why she remained hidden in the Huntley's stable loft that day rather than announcing her presence.

The adults below her talked quietly to each other about ordinary things, of the celebration to come, and of what they would be giving the children. Bess learned that her mother and Bothwell would be presenting her with a longed-for strand of pearls plus a bracelet, earrings, and matching brooch of pearls and diamonds. At Twelfth Night she was to have a lynx cape, and a necklace and earrings of garnets.

"She grows so fast," sighed Cat. "We shall soon have to arrange a suitable match for her. George and Henriette have suggested that their second son, Andrew, might suit Bess."

"She's going to be a beautiful woman," agreed Bothwell. "Keep her from court."

Cat nodded. "I will hae no problem there. Bess is like her grandmothers. She prefers being a country mouse. She will make the man she marries an admirable wife."

Bess preened silently in her hiding place, pleased that her mother should have such faith in her. Then Bothwell leaned over and said something Bess could not hear. Her mother laughed and, grabbing a handful of hay, tossed it at the earl. The chase was on, and the two adults romped back and forth until they collapsed laughing in a pile of hay in the empty stall directly below Bess.

The young girl could not see what was going on beneath her unless she peered over the edge. Lured by assorted sounds, she carefully lay on her stomach and looked down. Bess had only the vaguest idea of what went on between a man and a woman. What she saw below enlightened her somewhat.

Her mother lay on her back in the hay, the pale-violet velvet skirts of her riding habit turned up. Cat's long, shapely legs, sheathed in knitted purple lace stockings, were spread, and between them Lord Bothwell labored back and forth. Bess could see nothing of great note, for both Bothwell and her mother were kissing passionately while breathing roughly, and murmuring unintelligible things to each other. Then her mother cried out quite clearly, "Oh, Bothwell! I adore ye!" and all was quiet but for the sounds made by the horses.

So that was lovemaking! Strangely, she wasn't shocked. It was a curious matter, and it did clear up things she had overheard the maids speaking about when they thought she wasn't listening.

Lord Bothwell stood and adjusted his kilt, then pulled Cat's skirts back down. Bess saw her mother sit up, and was amazed at how lovely she was-all rose with her tawny, tousled hair. "Damn, Francis! That was nae wise. What if someone had come in?"

"They would have left rather quickly, I imagine," the great border lord laughed. "Besides, madame my love, I dinna hear ye complaining," he finished teasingly.

Cat laughed helplessly. "I have always wanted to be ravished in a haypile," she admitted, and he echoed her laughter.

But slowly, Cat sobered.

"I dinna think I can bear it, my love."

"Hush, my darling. Dinna think about it. Let us enjoy the time we have left."

"Let me come wi ye, Francis! Please let me come wi ye!"

"Cat!" His voice was patient, and very tender. "Sweeting, we hae been through this before. We canna be responsible for the destruction of all the Leslies. Then too, my love, I am a poor man now. James has everything I own. How would we live?"

"Surely Jamie has forgotten me now that Prince Henry has been born.’Tis said he fair dotes on the bairn. Surely he would hae compassion on our children? As to our living-oh, Francis! I am a very wealthy woman in my own right. Just a word to my bankers, the Kir as, and my investments and gold can be placed anywhere in the world!"

Bess was shocked to hear her mother talk of abandoning her family, especially when she had promised to return to Glenkirk. She strained to hear what Both-well would answer. She did not have long to wait

"Never!" he spat. "Never would I allow a woman to support me! As to James softening his stand, ye may disabuse yerself of that notion, madame. James has not altered his stand! At least my children are half Douglas, and allied by blood to a great family which will protect them. But ye Leslies intermarry. Who will protect them? Unless we obey Cousin Jamie he will destroy them! Christ, my love! My sweet, sweet love! I hate the thought of losing ye, but I cannot build a life wi ye on the ruins of Glenkirk and all his family."

Bess could see her mother's face clearly now, and the tragic look was almost too much for the girl to bear. Cat stood very straight and, composing her face into a mask of passivity, said, "I am sorry, my lord, for adding to yer pain. What is it about ye lords of Both-well that turn sensible women into irresponsible ones? Mary Stewart lost both her kingdom and her only child for love of yer Uncle James. And here am I ready to sacrifice my entire family for ye."

He held her close. Her eyes closed, and she smelled the damp leather of his jerkin. Sometimes, she thought sadly, sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes, and nae wake up. I dinna know how I bear life wi'out this man.

Then she realized that he would be even more alone than she would be. There would be no spouse, no family, no bairns for him. Penniless, he would roam the continent selling his sword to the highest bidder. Or being kept by women. There would always be women happy to take care of Francis. So why would he not let her do it?

As if reading her mind he said, "No. Not a penny-piece, my love. Never from ye, for I love ye. Wi the others it does nae matter."

She looked at him ruefully, in control of herself now. "Let us go in and get dressed for dinner, Francis."

"I will never stop loving ye, my darling," he said quietly. And turning from her, he strode from the stable.

"Oh, Christ!" Bess heard her mother swear softly. "Dear Christ, help me to be braver than I am. He needs me to be strong now." Then she followed Lord Bothwell from the stables.

Bess remained quietly in the loft, stunned by what she had heard. She had grown up in the last half-hour, and for some reason it hurt. It had not been the sight of her mother and Lord Bothwell coupled in close physical embrace that upset her, but rather the fact that their love brought them pain. Bess did not understand that, for she had always believed that love would be sweet. If it brought pain rather than pleasure, why did they pursue it?

Slowly she climbed down the loft ladder, then picked herself clean of telltale hay. She could not ask her mother for answers, but perhaps later on she could pursue this puzzle. For now, she had to hurry and change lest she be late for the celebration.

Chapter 37

THE holidays had passed. Deepest winter had settled upon the land. The Leslie children had long since returned to Glenkirk. Though the king knew that Bothwell sheltered with the Gordons, he had not learned that the Countess of Glenkirk was with her lover. James sent the Earl of Huntley an arrogant letter offering him a full pardon if he would turn Bothwell over for execution. The great highland chief gave orders that the royal messenger be fed and allowed to rest the night. In the morning he had the man brought before him.

"I want the king, my cousin, to know that this message comes directly from me," he said quietly. "I do not believe that James would even hint that I violate the laws of hospitality. Therefore, I do not believe that this letter is from him." The Earl of Huntley quietly tore the parchment in two pieces and handed them to the royal messenger. "I return this to my lord the king in hopes that it will help him to trace the bold traitor who so blatantly uses the king's name for his own foul ends."

When Bothwell learned of Huntley's brave and clever ruse, he thanked him, but said, "I must go now. This is the end, and if James would really have me dead, there is no hope. Maitland thinks he has won," and Bothwell laughed harshly. "He actually believes that by breaking the back of the nobility he can substitute his own influence. But if he really thinks that, then he is a bigger fool than all the rest! Those stern men who molded the king did a better job than they realize. Jamie may be superstitious and a bit of a coward, but he will be the only king in this land, mark my words!"

"Wait at least until the spring," protested George Gordon. "And there is Cat. She is a brave lady, your Countess of Glenkirk, but this will break her heart."

Bothwell didn't need to be told that. They had been living in a fool's paradise, pretending they were normal people. She had been sleeping when he had left her to join Huntley, but he believed she would be awake now.

She was. Awake, and being sick into a basin. When she had finished he wiped her mouth with a damp towel and, holding her close, said, "I ought to beat yer backside black and blue for this."

She said nothing, so he continued. "My foolish, foolish love! Have ye gone mad? Ye canna foist this bairn on Glenkirk. Do ye think he will welcome ye back swelling wi our bastard?"

"The child is mine," she replied, looking fiercely at him.

"This child is ours, Cat. Yers and mine. With Patrick in England there can be no doubt. Christ! He's a proud man! He'll nae accept the bairn."

"He'll accept it," she said grimly. "He owes me that!"

"My God," said Bothwell in amazement. "Do ye mean to make him pay the rest of his life for one night's indiscretion? Hasn't he been punished enough?"

"No!" she spat angrily out at him. "In time, perhaps, I will forgie Patrick But I will never forget. Never! That indiscretion, as you call it, has cost me everything-my happiness, my peace of mind. Where am I in all this? Oh, God! It is so easy for ye men, with yer pride and yer damned sacred code of ethics! I have been destroyed by the three of ye. Patrick used me like a common drab to soothe his injured pride: Yet I am expected to be grateful that he took me back, James dirtied me, and I will never be able to wash away the stain he left on me. And ye, Francis?" She rounded on him. "What was my first attraction for ye? That Jamie wanted me? Is that why ye fell in love wi me, my lord? To spite the king? Another victory over the royal bairn?" She wanted to hurt this man as they all had hurt her.

His big hand slashed out and slapped her before he realized it Her eyes filled with tears, but she made no sound. Instead her fingers gingerly touched her cheek, and felt the welts. Her head was ringing with the force of his blow, but she could hear his voice raging.

"I love ye!" he shouted, and his fingers dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her arms. "I hae from the beginning, but ye were the Virtuous Countess, and I respected that virtue. Ye see, my love, I only seduced those women who wanted to be seduced. When Jamie bragged he had forced ye into his bed, I was ashamed for him, and I ached for the shame ye must be feeling. Then Patrick and James hurt ye, so I grabbed at the chance they so foolishly offered me. I love ye! Yer a spoilt, stubborn bitch, but I love ye, Cat! It is hard enough to leave ye behind, my darling, but to know that I leave ye wi my child in yer belly-" He stopped. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger he tipped her face up to him. "Why, my darling? Why did ye do this to us?"

"Because," she answered him softly, "because I canna bear to lose ye entirely, my love. Do ye think that because I am safe at Glenkirk 'twill be easier for me? Christ, Bothwell! 'Twill be harder, never knowing where ye are, or if yer safe, or if ye lack for anything. When ye leave me this time I shall never see ye again in this life. At least the child will gie me hope, Francis, and 'twill be a constant reminder to me of our love. Do ye understand that, my lord? Without the child I should retreat into some twilight world to escape the reality of what has happened to us. The child will help me to maintain my sanity."

"When Glenkirk tells ye he will nae let ye keep the bairn, send it to me. 'Twill nae be easy, but 'twould be a comfort to hae our son wi me in my exile, and the child shall nae suffer the stigma of bastardy. I will legally acknowledge him so he may bear my name."

She laughed. " 'Twould be a damned inconvenience to ye, my gallant lover, to tramp about Europe wi a wee bairn. Besides, my lord, 'tis a lass I carry. I know. I am always damnably ill in the beginning wi the lasses!" Her eyes teared again for a moment. "Once at Hermitage when Bess had been intolerably rude to ye, ye promised me that one day we would hae a lass of our own. Now we shall, and she shall be a comfort to me in my loneliness."