Love Wild and Fair (47 page)

They would be sailing from Rattray Head, where Bothwell had left from so long ago. Since the
Gallant James
had disappeared with Patrick Leslie, the Leslie’s new flagship,
New Venture,
would be taking Cat to France. Cat thought the name most appropriate.

They rode through the night, stopping twice to rest the horses. At dawn they made camp in the ruins of Huntley Castle. The ride in the cold night air had given Cat an enormous appetite, and she happily accepted a small rabbit broiled on a stick which was brought to her by one of the men. Susan supplied a loaf of bread, a cup, and a flask filled with sweet wine. Cat shared these offerings with her two servants and happily stuffed herself. Full at last, she wrapped herself in her heavy cloak and went to sleep by a small fire kindled in what was now a freestanding fireplace.

When she awoke it was midafternoon, and the camp was quiet. Susan and May were sleeping near her. She lay for a few minutes, drowsy and warm within the safety of her cloak, then slept again. When she woke in late afternoon the camp was abustle with the activities of cooking. Several lambs were turning over the cook fires, and on a large flat stone boasting a smaller fire beneath it rested a number of fresh-baked loaves. Well away from the heat stood several unopened casks of ale.

“Conall! To me!”

“Madame?”

“Where did all of this come from?”

“My lord of Huntley told his people to be on the lookout for ye and to see we were well fed and cared for while on Gordon lands.”

Her face softened. “Why, bless George for that,” she said. Then, “There’s nae too much ale, is there? I dinna want the men too drunk to ride. We’ve a long night ahead of us, and we must reach Rattray before dawn.”

“Just enough to keep them happy, my lady. There’s a small cask of wine for ye too. Dinna forget to refill yer flask for tonight.”

She nodded, and accepted the tin plate Susan handed her. It held thin, juicy slices of meat, early green cress, and hot bread dripping butter and honey. The cup was filled with rich malmsey, and put at her side on the ground. Again Cat stuffed herself. Afterwards, as the men ate, she stood and addressed them. “Conall has told ye of my journey. If any of ye have changed yer minds about going, now is the time to say so, and to return to Glenkirk. If ye go back, I only ask that ye remain silent as to my whereabouts.” Silence greeted her words, and looking out at the Glenkirk men she felt quick tears prick her eyelids. Fighting to control herself, she said simply, “Thank ye. Thank ye all.”

They were ahorse within the hour, and rode through most of the dark night. She could smell the sea long before they reached the coast, its salt tang growing stronger with every passing mile. They arrived at the rendezvous well before their deadline, and Conall signaled towards the sea with a lantern which he had managed somehow to stow in his bulging saddlebags. From the darkness came an answering light.

He drew forward a familiar-looking young man. “My son, Andrew,” he announced gruffly.

Cat raised an eyebrow. “Dinna tell me, Conall. Ye couldna find the time to wed wi his mother, but a Leslie always recognizes his own. Am I correct?”

“Aye, madame,” he drawled, and she laughed. “Andrew and ten of the men will sail on the
New Venture
wi ye,” he said. “I’ll go wi the others and the horses on the
Anne la Reine
from Peterhead.”

“Will ye be long behind us?” Cat asked nervously. “I dinna like landing in France wi so few men.”

“We’ll be ahead of ye. The
Anne la Reine
is lighter and a bit faster than the
New Venture.
Yer coach, horses, coachmen, and grooms left three days ago, and will be waiting for ye. Dinna fret, lass. I’ll be waiting for ye.”

She smiled warmly at him. “All right, Conall.” Then she turned her smile on the young man. “Well, Andrew More-Leslie, not enough pretty girls to keep ye home at Glenkirk?”

“Too many, my lady—and an equal number of angry fathers.”

Cat laughed. “Ye’ll do, lad!”

They descended to the beach to meet the longboat. It slid up onto the sand and the sailors scrambled out to pull it safely onto the beach. For a moment Cat flew back in time, remembering when she had stood before on this wet and windy beach. It had been a bit less than three years ago, and she had ridden with the Earl of Bothwell to bid him goodbye as he began his exile. She had thought never to see him again. Now she stood on this very beach ready to begin her own self-imposed exile.

An officer detached himself from his men and bowed over her hand. “First Officer Malcolm More-Leslie at yer service, my lady. I am Hugh’s son.”

“Yer Susan and May’s older brother?”

“Aye, madame.”

“Is not the captain a More-Leslie?”

“Sandy. Alan’s boy.”

“Good God, Conall, I certainly sail well protected by the family!”

“He
would have wanted it that way,” Conall muttered fiercely.

Cat put out a hand and patted the older man’s arm. “Ye wanted to go wi him, eh, Conall?”

“Aye! But he’d nae hae it. ‘Stay home, Conall,’ he said. ‘Who else can I trust to look after her?’ ”

“Christ, man! Dinna tell me this now at the moment of my departure!”

“Madame, if I dinna think he’d approve of this road ye take, I’d nae be here. But I am, and while ‘tis in my hands, I’ll keep ye safe.” And then he blushed beet-red as she stood on tiptoes and soundly kissed his cheek.

“God go wi ye, Conall,” she said, and joined Susan and May, who were already in the boat. Without further ado the small boat was on its way through the darkness to the
New Venture.
Then she was being swung up and out over the water, and when she opened her eyes again she was on the deck being greeted by the captain.

“I’ve put ye and yer lasses in my own cabin, my lady. Ye’ll be more comfortable there,” he said.

“Thank ye, cousin,” she said, bringing a flush of pleasure to his ruddy face. He’d heard about Cat Leslie, and what a fine woman she was. Her acknowledgment of their relationship—however tenuous that relationship was—pleased him. Too, it brought him extra stature in the eyes of his men. “Will ye take yer main meal wi me and my officers?” he asked.

“Gladly!”

The captain bowed. “I’ll be about my business now, madame. Duncan will see ye safely to yer quarters.”

The
New Venture
was a big, sleek caravel of some eighty tons. She carried a full dozen guns, and had been designed for speed and maneuverability, yet generous cargo space. Her crew’s quarters were dry, warm, and comfortable, outstanding for the times. There was a separate cook’s area incorporated into the seamen’s quarters so the men might have warm food or ale when they finished their duties. The Leslies demanded absolute obedience and loyalty from their sailors, but they paid them well and cared for them properly. Consequently, Leslie employees were the best.

Duncan, the ship’s boy, led Cat and her two serving women to a large cabin high in the stern of the ship. Through the leaded and paned bow windows Cat could see that the stars had faded and the sky was growing lighter. The cabin was comfortably furnished, with a good-sized bed and two trundles. There were Turkey carpets on the floor, and velvet hangings at the bow windows and the two smaller ports. Beautiful brass lamps lit the room, and on an oak table stood two decanters of wine—one red, one gold.

“Could ye eat, m’lady?” asked Duncan.

“Is there any fruit aboard, lad?”

“Apples, ma’am, and some Seville oranges.”

“Bring both, and some hard cheese and bread.”

“Ohh, my lady,” said May plaintively, “I’m starving! I could eat a big bowl of porridge, I surely could! Wi honey and clotted cream!”

Cat laughed at the girl. “Not this morning, my lass. If ye would nae succumb to
mal de mer
ye will eat and drink sparingly this day.”

Later, when the two young women lay sleeping, Cat sat in the velvet windowseat and watched the coast of Scotland slowly growing smaller. Above her she heard, “Set the course for Calais! East-southeast.” And an echoing voice answered, “East-sou’east!”

The beautiful leaf-green eyes strained towards the fading coastline. A tear slid down her pale cheek, and then another, and another. She wept softly, bitterly, until the sadness began to lift and she had a sudden awareness of excitement growing within her. Behind her lay her old life, but ahead lay her very reason for life! Ahead was Francis Stewart-Hepburn! She could not be so ungrateful as to weep over what the gods had taken from her—not when they had given so much.

T
HE messenger sent by the king of Scotland to the younger dowager Countess of Glenkirk returned quickly to Edinburgh.

“What do ye mean she wasna there?” demanded the king in a tight little voice.

“She’s gone to France, the auld dowager said, and proper upset she was too. Seems the young one just took off early one morning wi’out a word to anyone.”

James sent for the Earl of Glenkirk, and his sister, Lady Elizabeth Gordon. “Do ye know where yer mother is?” he asked them.

“At Glenkirk, sire,” said the earl without hesitation. “She is nae at Glenkirk!” answered the king fiercely. “She is in France!”

For a moment both young faces registered surprise, then Bess said to Jemmie, “She went after all! Oh, I do hope ‘twill cheer her!”

“What do ye mean, Lady Gordon?” Bess smiled sweetly at the king and then said in the same warm, confidential tone she’d used with her brother, “Why, sire, she spoke of visiting our Leslie cousins in France. Ye see, ‘tis been a terrible year for her. First our father dying. Then Jemmie marrying and coming wi Bella to court, and then my marrying and coming to court. Colin is away at the university and Robbie a page wi Rothes. Why sire—there’s scarcely anyone home but the bairns! She’s been so lonely. She said she might go to France for a bit, but then she said nay.” Bess smiled again, and shrugged elegant little shoulders. “I suppose she changed her mind again. We women are so unpredictable.”

Amused, the king suppressed a smile, and then his mouth tightened in anger. “She was to come to court this spring.”

“Oh, yes,” said Bess brightly. “ ‘Twas the last thing she said to us when we left Glenkirk after my wedding—that she would see us at court in the spring, and to gie her loving regards to the king.” She turned and stared accusingly at her brother. “Jemmie! I’ll wager ye
forgot,
dolthead! How could ye?”

A small smile played at the corners of the king’s mouth at the embarrassed look on the young earl’s handsome face. They were such a charming family! “Thank ye, Lady Gordon. Ye may leave us. Jemmie, stay. I would speak further wi ye.”

Bess curtsied prettily and left the room. James looked sharply at James Leslie. He saw nothing but open honesty and admiration. The king pursed his lips and said slowly, “Yer mother has displeased me, Glenkirk. In a sense she has deliberately disobeyed me.” The young face looked genuinely distressed. “I commanded yer mother’s presence at court this spring. In fact—” he paused a moment for effect—"I planned to make her my mistress, and she was well aware of it.”

Surprise and incredulity registered on the young face. “Sire! This is a great honor ye do Glenkirk! Christ, sir! What can I say!” Then, “Damn me! Her behavior is intolerable! I always felt my father spoiled her. But I am sure she will return soon. She is simply willful, but I dinna believe disobedient.”

The king looked pleased. There was no nonsense here. The lad was with him. She’d have no place to hide now. This was one Glenkirk he’d have no trouble with at all! The earl considered it an honor that James had singled out his mother—and rightly so! “I will send word to my good friend, King Henri, that yer mother is to be sent home.”

Jemmie looked earnestly at the king. “I will write her also, sire. I am now the Lord of Glenkirk, and I honor my mother as much as she merits it, but she must understand that ‘tis my word that is law at Glenkirk, not hers. She is, after all, but a woman, and therefore must be guided. Yer majesty has offered her yer protection. I will nae allow her to fling such graciousness away.”

The king was pleased, but alone he brooded. Did she really intend returning? Or, as the little nagging doubt in the back of his mind suggested, had she fled him again? He had warned her once what he would do to her family if she refused him, but that was when her husband was alive. It would have been possible to trump up charges against Patrick. But the young earl was a different matter. Punishing him would be far too transparent, and would reap terrible consequences for the king.

The Leslies of Glenkirk were no longer a defenseless clan without powerful ties. The king’s own cousin, George Gordon, the Earl of Huntley, was as troublesome in his way as Bothwell had been. He was not going to stand idly by and allow his daughter Isabelle’s happiness to be destroyed, and James wanted no open clan rivalries left behind when he mounted the English throne. Then, too, there was the young Earl of Glenkirk himself. In the short time he had been at court he had made himself very popular, and he was openly admiring and supportive of the king. One could hardly accuse such a charming and loyal young man of perfidy. Besides, James genuinely liked the new Earl of Glenkirk.

The king slouched low in his chair, fingering the diamond-and-black-pearl necklace he had sent to Cat with the messenger. He thought anxiously that she must come back. She must! He could not—nay, would not—spend a lifetime yearning for her. But what if she did not return? He groaned aloud. She must!

T
HE
New Venture
had made an easy passage from Rattray Head to Calais. The captain was heard to remark that in all his years of sailing he had never encountered such fair and constant winds in the North Sea, let alone the North Sea in late February. The
Anne la Reine
had arrived some twelve hours ahead of Cat’s ship, and Conall and his men awaited their lady on the docks.

Because Conall deemed it safer, Cat and her two servants rode inside the coach on the four-day trip to Paris. Her entourage was extremely impressive. Two coachmen sat on the box, two footmen rode behind. Four grooms on horseback followed behind the coach, each leading yet another horse—Iolaire among them. Conall led fifteen men, while Andrew, with another fifteen, brought up the rear. On each side of the coach rode ten men.