Surrendering herself completely to the storm tearing at her, she clung to him. She could hardly stand. She could hear her heart pounding within her own ears. Finally she managed to gasp, "Why a priest?"

His strong arm supporting her, he looked down into her upturned face. "Because, my darling, I intend marrying ye now! Tonight! Before kings, or families, or anyone can come between us ever again!"

"Oh, Francis," she whispered, "I hae missed ye so damned much!" And she began to cry.

"Dinna weep, my darling. Yer safe wi me now, and this time no one will separate us! Now, love, tell me- why did Jamie relent, and let ye come to me?"

"He didn't, Francis. I ran. Jemmie is now the Glenkirk, and he felt 'twas the only chance I would have. What was between James Stewart, Patrick, and us had nothing to do wi Jemmie. He didna think that Jamie would try and revenge himself on the Leslies now." She drew him into the house.

"Does our royal cousin know where ye are?"

"He was told that I went to France to recover from my widow's depression, but I imagine he's very angry at me, for I was ordered to return to court this spring. He even sent to King Henri and demanded his aid in arranging my return. Henri of Navarre sends his regards to ye."

"Ye met him?"

"Aye. He was most kind. He told me how very much he regretted having to send ye away."

"Henri was always kind to women," chuckled Both-well. "Young or old. Fair or ugly. He has unbelievable charm, and the ladies love it!"

But before he could pursue the conversation further, Cat led him into one of the salons overlooking the sea. Whirling about, she demanded, "And who is the owner of the villa in which ye hae be staying?"

"The Conte di LiCosa," said Bothwell smoothly.

"Is it his wife or his daughter ye've been sleeping with these long nights, my lord?"

Francis' deep-blue eyes twinkled. "Jealous, my darling?" he teased.

"If she ever looks at ye again I will tear her heart out!"

He laughed happily. "Beware, my darling. The Contessa de LiCosa is reputed to be a witch."

"Is she?" Cat was not impressed.

He chuckled. "She likes the peasants and the other uneducated masses to think so, and she really is quite talented in herbal medicine. She enjoys the small power her reputation gives her. She's half-Turkish, as her mother was born in Morea and captured by Angela's father years ago. She has two brothers, the older of whom, in an odd quirk of fate, was himself captured by Turks twenty years ago. Just as his mother once converted to Christianity, he became a Muslim. He is now one of the sultan's generals."

"Is she very beautiful?" asked Cat.

"Yes," replied Bothwell honestly, "but the peasants call her l’Angela del Diavolo-the Devil's Angel." He moved to take her in his arms. "Cat, my love, I dinna want to talk of Angela. My God, I canna believe 'tis ye! Do ye know how many times I have dreamed of such a reunion, knowing it was impossible? Do ye know how I have longed for ye, sure that I would never hold ye in my arms again in this life? I have lain alone more nights than not aching for ye!" Gently he traced his finger down a tear streak. "Our bairns?"

"WelL" she whispered in a choked little voice. "Safe at Glenkirk wi Meg. Jemmie will send them to us when 'tis safe. A few months at most, and then we shall be a family at last."

His arms tightened about her, and his mouth brushed against hers. "I should like to be a bridegroom before I am a father, my darling."

She laughed softly. "Perhaps ye should have thought about that before ye sired three children on me, my lord."

"‘Tis siring the fourth one I'm looking forward to, my pet!"

The door to the salon opened on them, and a grinning Conall entered accompanied by Angus and a black-robed cleric. "So, Francisco!’Tis you who summon me in such unruly fashion!"

"Bishop Pasquale! When did you get back from Rome?"

"This afternoon, and a good thing I did. These two wildmen came roaring into the church demanding a priest They frightened my priests half to death! What is your great need of a priest, Bothwell? You don't look to me as if you're dying."

The earl drew Cat forward. "My lord bishop, may I present to you Caterina Maria Leslie, the Countess of Glenkirk. We wish to be married."

"No, Bothwell. There have been no banns read."

"Waive them, my friend!"

The bishop smiled. "Why should I, Francisco? My child," he said, directing his gaze on Cat, "how well do you know this man?"

"He is the father of my three youngest children, my lord bishop," answered Cat. "We would have been wed six years ago had our king not threatened the Cardinal of St. Andrew's with persecution of the church if he dissolved my marriage. Now I am a widow, and though King James seeks to make me his mistress, I fled my land to wed with Lord Bothwell. Please, my lord bishop, waive the banns. I have been traveling almost two months, and have come over a thousand miles. My lord and I have been separated three long years. Marry us tonight!"

"How long have you been widowed, my daughter?" asked the bishop.

"My first husband sailed for the new world two years ago this month. His ship never reached its destination."


The bishop looked at the two people standing before him. They were certainly not impetuous children, but adults obviously in love. That in itself was unusual in marriage between people of rank. Then, too, the bishop liked Lord Bothwell, and believed that the sooner he was safe from Angela di LiCosa, the better. That the beauteous woman before him could separate Bothwell permanently from Angela he had no doubt.

"Very well, Francisco and Caterina. I will marry you tonight. Be at the Church of Santa Maria del Mare in Amalfi within the hour."

"There is a consecrated chapel here in this villa, my lord bishop," said Cat softly.

"Very well, my daughter. Here it shall be. When?"

"Give me but time to change my clothing." She turned to Bothwell and spoke in Scots English. "When I wed wi Patrick 'twas in a dressing gown, and I was already in labor wi Jemmie. All this winter I hae done nothing but prepare brides for their weddings. So, beloved, for you and for me, I shall take time to be a bride."

He took her by the shoulders and kissed her forehead. "Go along, my love. I shall see the bishop is comfortable."

Bishop Pasquale settled himself comfortably and sipped appreciatively at the goblet of sweet pale-golden wine that Lord Bothwell handed him. "I have always believed that you were born under a lucky star, Francisco, else your head would long ago have parted company from your shoulders. Your betrothed is a lovely creature. So the Scots king covets her?"

"Aye. He hides his lust from public view, but what he did to her-I shall not distress you with unsavory details. But before James Stewart forced her into his bed by threatening her family she was a good and faithful wife. She was called the Virtuous Countess, and that in itself was what first attracted him."

"And when did you become involved with her, Francisco?"

"I knew her at court, but not until she was forced to flee from both the king and her husband-who was shocked and hurt to discover her dilemma-did we become intimate. We were friends, and she had nowhere else to go. What happened between us… simply happened. I have never known such happiness as I have with her. Nor have I ever known such agony as without her."

The bishop nodded. "My son," he said, "do you know how fortunate you are? I know kings who would give anything for what you have. Cherish it! Cherish this woman who makes you so happy! God has blessed you both greatly."

At the end of the hour Cat reentered the salon with her two tiring women, and found only Conall awaiting her. He was dressed-to her amazement-in his Leslie kilt, and full highland regalia.

"Where did ye find that, man?"

He looked shocked. "Ye dinna think I'd travel wi'out my kilt, lassie? If I'd died on the journey, what would ye hae buried me in, pray? However, 'tis in the capacity of yer father that I act now. Being yer nearest relative here, I shall lead ye to yer betrothed." Offering her his arm, he swept her from the room and to the chapel. Behind them Susan and May, each in her finest, followed.

The chapel of the villa had been in existence longer than the house. It was small, and of Romanesque design. Used as a mosque by the villa's former owner, it had been rededicated to the Christian faith on the orders of Benjamin Kira, the Jewish banker who knew and admired his client's quiet devotion to the Roman faith in a Scotland turned Protestant. When he had been informed that the house purchased for the Countess of Glenkirk had an ancient chapel, Kira ordered it refurbished at his own expense. This was his gift to the extraordinary woman he had admired since her girlhood, and whom he would very likely never see again.

The chapel was simply furnished with a white marble altar topped by two magnificent heavy gold candlesticks studded with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and amethysts. There was a matching carved gold crucifix. The small windows were newly redone in precious stained glass, and the vigil lamps were of heavy ruby glass hand-blown in Murano, set into holders of filigreed gold and silver. The entire chapel glowed softly in the light of at least fifty beeswax tapers.

As Conall led her down the chapel aisle to the altar, Cat saw her six houseservants and all of her Glenkirk men standing witness to the ceremony. No one would be able to question the legitimacy of this marriage. As her eyes swept past them she saw Bothwell waiting for her. He, like Conall, was attired in full dress kilt. Suddenly clearly aware of what was happening, she smiled happily at him.

He smiled back at her, his eyes shining approval of her gown. The sleeveless lilac silk overdress glowed softly in the candlelight, and the slightly darker underskirt with its gold and pearl embroidery shimmered. The sleeves of the underdress were of lilac gauze, and her rounded arms gleamed seductively through them. Her honey-colored hair was parted in the center and caught up over her ears in a mass of ringlets that spilled down over the back of her neck and shoulders. She wore a misty mauve veil topped by a small crown of sweet-smelling night-blooming white flowers.

Conall solemnly led Cat up to Lord Bothwell and placed her slim hanad firmly into his. "Treat her well, man," growled Conall huskily, "or ye'll answer first to me before the young earl has a go at ye!"

"She is my life," returned Bothwell quietly, meeting Conall's look evenly.

As the ceremony got underway, their joy was so great that neither quite believed it was happening. They went through the ceremony in a haze, hearing the bishop's words vaguely and responding automatically. And then it was over. They were wed! For a moment they stood staring at each other. Then they began to smile at one another, and they could not stop. Finally the bishop stepped down and put an arm about them. "It is true, my children. You are wed. Do I dare hope there is a bit of wine left with which we may toast this happy occasion?"

Cat blushed, which the bishop found charming in a woman over thirty. Bothwell laughed happily and, pulling himself together, put an arm about his wife and led the way back to the main part of the villa, where Maria and Paolo had rushed ahead to bring up several bottles of wine from the cellars. A few of the Glenkirk men had brought their bagpipes with them, and they began to serenade the newlyweds. Cat gazed at them intently. There was one wedding gift that only her men could give her husband.

Standing before them during a lull in their playing, she spoke quietly. "My mother was born a Leslie of Sithean, and I was wed for eighteen years to the Glenkirk. Tonight ye hae been witnesses to my second marriage to the Earl.of Bothwell. We are both exiled from Scotland, exiled by our king, who threatened the Leslies with destruction unless I became his mistress. What ye hae just witnessed in the chapel of this villa is my answer to King James. Ye hae protected me loyally, and brought me safely to my dear husband. Now ye must decide what yer futures will be. Ye may return to your homes at Glenkirk, and ye’ll hae my blessing. Or ye may pledge yerselves to the Earl of Bothwell. The choice is yers."

Conall stood. "The men who came wi ye came because there is nothing to keep them at Glenkirk. We are happy to pledge ourselves to Lord Bothwell… but on one condition. Should the Leslies or our homeland ever need us, we will go." He directed his gaze to Bothwell. "We know that ye would go under those circumstances if ye could, sir."