Virginia Henley (17 page)

“You may escort me nowhere, sir!” She kept her back to him.

“As you wish.” When he was halfway out the door he murmured, “Robert and Liz will be disappointed.”

She spun about. “Wait! Come back! Liz and Robert’s wedding?”

“Widdrington is close by, on the coast. The happy couple should have arrived this afternoon, so my instincts tell me they will marry tomorrow. I was going to suggest that the
Hepburn Rose
drop anchor there tonight, but since you don’t wish me to escort you, I’ll order the captain to press on.”

“Don’t you dare, you hellhound! I wish to go to Widdrington.”

“Then sheathe your claws and ask me nicely, Lady Catherine.”

Her face showed dismay.
He means it. He wants me to beg!
Cat had no intention of climbing off her high horse gracefully. “Dearest Lord Stewart, I beseech you to escort me to Widdrington.”

“Lady Catherine, you beg so sweetly, you are tempting as sin.”

Tempting as sin? He said those words in the Tower last night!
Catherine shivered at the evocative memory.

Patrick saw. “Perhaps we can tuck you into a nice warm bed tonight to banish your shivers.”

Her senses suddenly became drenched with Hepburn’s male scent.
Did the uncivilized bastard sleep with me last night?
The thought was so outrageous, she immediately denied it. When the wicked thought persisted, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Perhaps you were not teasing this morning. Mayhap you
do
owe me a petticoat.”

In less than an hour’s time, the
Hepburn Rose
lay at anchor in Widdrington, and Liz couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw who her visitors were. “Cat, darling, whatever are you doing here with Patrick? Don’t tell me you two have beaten us to the altar?”

“Don’t even jest about such things; I cannot think of a worse fate. We are deadly enemies—far more so now than when we first met,” Catherine declared. “So, you two truly aren’t wed yet?”

“No, we just arrived this afternoon and made arrangements to be married tomorrow. How lovely that you will be here.”

Catherine stared at Patrick. “How the devil did you know?”

“He’s a warlock! Didn’t he tell you?” Liz teased.

Though the words were said in jest, Cat could not dismiss the idea lightly. There was too much about the uncanny Scot that defied explanation. “I hope you have room for Maggie and me; we had a dreadful first night aboard ship, coping with
mal de mer.
”

“Of course we have room,” Robert declared. “Do you think I would take a wife who didn’t own a grand house?”

“You might as well know that Mother has banished me from Court. I am being shipped to my grandfather in Scotland because I got involved in my friend Arbella Stuart’s plot to marry William Seymour.”

“You are so damned impulsive, Cat; didn’t you realize that match would be forbidden by Her Majesty?” Robert asked bluntly.

“The queen’s wishes didn’t stop you, Rob Carey!”

“The queen doesn’t wish us to marry?” Liz asked Robert.

“Elizabeth doesn’t wish any of her courtiers to marry.” Robert frowned at Cat, hoping she wouldn’t pursue the subject.

“She’s grown extremely jealous and possessive in her old age. She wants other females to be as unhappy as she is,” Maggie said.

“I told you she was jealous of you.” Robert slipped his arm about Liz, kissed her temple and hoped she would drop the matter. “I’m taking Liz to Edinburgh for our honeymoon. Though she has always lived close to the Border, she’s never been across it.”

“You must both come to Crichton for a few days,” Patrick invited. “Perhaps Lady Catherine will come and stay too.”

Cat knew it would insult Liz if she refused. Also she admitted to herself that she wanted to see Crichton; nevertheless, she bristled at the way Hepburn manipulated her so that she had to comply.

After dinner, Maggie excused herself and went up to bed.

Cat and Liz talked endlessly of weddings and clothes, which gave Patrick and Robert a chance to withdraw to the library for a drink and some private conversation.

“It was a clever idea to travel to Edinburgh for your honeymoon,” Patrick said with approval.

“Well, I could hardly get married one day and depart the next, leaving my bride of one day to explain my absence.”

Patrick grinned. “Women have a way of complicating matters.”

“Obviously! What the hell is Catherine doing in your clutches? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for Isobel to send her to Hertfordshire until the Arbella Stuart matter was dealt with?”

“Not once I got through putting the fear of God into Isobel, or the fear of Elizabeth, which amounts to the same thing. Do you object to my interest in Catherine?”

“I just don’t want her to be hurt.”

“
Homo homini lupus
—every man is a wolf to every other man.”

“The queen would never approve of marrying Lady Catherine to a Scot. Better look elsewhere, Patrick. You saw Spencer Park. Catherine’s estate is far too valuable for Her Majesty to give it to any but an English nobleman.”

“I did indeed see Spencer Park. But Elizabeth will not reign forever, Robert.”

Carey, convinced that Hepburn had second sight, gave him a long, speculative look. “I realize her years are numbered.”

“Her
months
are numbered, Robert.”

“Patrick”—Carey cleared his throat, anxious to ask a favor—“do you think we could arrange to see King James together? He may be livid that I gave his letter to Cecil rather than Elizabeth, and I would rather have your company when I beard the Lion of Scotland in his den.”

“Of course. Once again, a united force of two against one?”

“Precisely! With the wedding, I can’t leave tomorrow, but Liz and I can travel the next day. I’ll stop at Bewcastle to pay my men and be in Edinburgh by June second.”

“If we sail after the wedding, the
Hepburn Rose
should arrive at the Port of Leith tomorrow night. The following day I shall safely deliver Lady Catherine into the hands of the irascible Earl of Winton and join you in Edinburgh on June second. The Castle Rock is a fine inn where the Canongate meets High Street. I’ll meet you there and we’ll go to Holyrood Palace together.”

“Thank you, Patrick. The confidence you exude tends to rub off on me when I am in your company.”

Chapter Ten

C
atherine Spencer watched raptly as Liz Widdrington was joined in holy wedlock to Robert Carey. The bridal gown that Liz had commissioned in London was pale green velvet embroidered with white Tudor roses, its sleeves slashed with white satin. She had chosen the Tudor colors of green and white to honor her new husband.

George Carey, Warden of the English East March, had ridden in from the Border stronghold of Bewcastle early this morning to be his brother’s groomsman. George, Cat’s uncle, was married to her aunt Beth, and, as Catherine’s glance traveled over the two brothers standing at the altar, she wondered if their marriages were love matches. Robert seemed to love Liz in spite of the remark he’d made about marrying a woman with a big house, but she doubted that her aunt Beth loved George, since they lived apart for most of the year. She had likely wed George because he was Lord Hunsdon’s heir and one day soon she’d be Lady Hunsdon.

As the couple pledged their vows, Catherine’s thoughts strayed to her own mother. She knew Isobel had married her father to escape Scotland. Then she had used Court to escape her husband. Cat’s thoughts moved on to Arbella Stuart and she shuddered.
How horrific it would be to have someone marry you for your wealth.
Catherine closed her eyes and innocently vowed before God that she would never marry, except for love alone.

While most eyes were on the bride this morning, Patrick Hepburn’s attention was caught and held by the ethereal beauty of Lady Catherine. She wore blush pink velvet, her bodice and sleeves embroidered with snowdrops, and she had threaded pearls through her dark curls. She was such an exquisite creature that he wondered wryly what she would think when she met her grandfather. Though he was an Earl of the Realm, Geordie Seton was no polished nobleman. He was a rough, blunt Scot who cursed and drank whisky, and Patrick wondered how Cat would cope.

“Forasmuch as Elizabeth and Robert have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The minister took the newlyweds and their witnesses into the vestry to sign the register, and within minutes Liz came back down the aisle, flushed with happiness, on the arm of her new husband.

All the villagers of Widdrington had gathered to see Liz marry Sir Robert Carey, and they congregated outside the church to throw rice and help celebrate the happy occasion. Though the sun shone brightly, the weather was mild rather than warm. Liz’s younger sister, Sarah, who was the bride’s maid of honor, slipped her arm through Patrick Hepburn’s and gazed up at him with undisguised desire. “’Tis not fair,” she murmured as her eyes slid over his muscled body with hunger. “Liz has had two husbands, while I’m still unwed.”

Patrick laughed down at her and squeezed her hand. “But not unwilling nor untried, I warrant.”

“There’s only one sure way to find out, Lord Stewart.”

“Alas, I sail within the hour, my lovely. Perhaps I can be of service at another time, in another place,” he offered gallantly.

“Why do females cling to him?” Cat asked Maggie with disgust.

“Wishful thinking. They’d all like a chance to lie with him and mayhap tame him.”

“Maggie!” Cat was shocked at her candor.

Maggie winked. “Sorry, my lamb; weddings make me lusty.”

Refreshments were being served in the Widdrington House gardens, and Patrick joined the Carey brothers to drink a tankard of ale.

“Any Border trouble while I was gone?” Robert asked.

George rubbed his chin. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. Had a visit from a Scots Border warden, Armstrong, making accusations that you’d hanged his brother. He was looking for trouble.”

“I’m the one who hanged Armstrong,” Patrick stated flatly.

George nodded. “Watch your back,
both
of you. There’s a streak of madness in the Armstrongs on either side of the Border.”

Before the hour was up, Patrick sought out Catherine. “Say your good-byes, then I advise you to change into something more sensible for the rest of the voyage.”

Cat’s chin went up. “I do not own any sensible clothes, sir.”

“So I’ve noticed, Hellcat. But you look so lovely in this particular gown, I think you should save it for when you go to meet your grandfather. You will surely be the envy of your Seton cousins if you arrive looking like a lady-in-waiting who has just stepped from the Queen’s Court.”

Is the devil mocking me or complimenting me?
Cat doubted it was the latter and was loath to do his bidding, but since the picture he painted appealed to her, she decided to change.

Wearing a blue woolen dress with a quilted bodice, and wrapped in her blue cloak, Cat stayed on deck for the entire voyage. By the time the
Hepburn Rose
reached the Firth of Forth it was evening. She watched the seamen climb the rigging to take in the sails against a spectacular crimson and purple sunset, which was followed almost immediately by a black night sky. There were few lights on shore until the ship neared Leith. The port was almost an extension of Edinburgh, and since there was no fog tonight the city was all lit up. Maggie joined Cat on deck while the ship sailed up the Forth. “It’s been more than twenty-one years since I last saw Edinburgh. I can’t believe I’m home!”

Cat took Maggie’s hand. “Don’t you think of London as home?”

Maggie shook her head. “I’m a Celt to the bone, God help me.”

“Ladies.” Hepburn’s deep voice startled them. “If given the choice of sleeping aboard or spending the night at Netherbow Inn, I am sure you would prefer the latter.”

“How perceptive of you,” Catherine said sweetly.

“At the inn you’ll have all the amenities of home, Maggie. Haggis for supper and a bath in a wooden barrel.”

“Och, yer lordship, stop plaguing the child. She’ll think the Scots are all wild and uncivilized.”

His dark, compelling glance met Catherine’s. “When in reality only some of us are wild and uncivilized.”

She hated to let him have the last word. As he led them from the ship, she saw that he carried a book in his hand. “I had no idea you could read, Lord Stewart.”

He smiled at the taunt. “
Julius Caesar.
I like to read in bed, unless you have something else in mind, Lady Catherine?”

Maggie’s words rushed back to her:
A chance to lie with him and mayhap tame him!
Cat lowered her lashes, thankful that the darkness concealed her blushes.

As they walked up Leith Wynd toward the inn, Patrick told them his plans. “I’ll hire a carriage to take you to Seton tomorrow. Winton Castle is about a dozen miles from here. There is no need to arise early. I’ll call for you about ten.” When they got to the inn, he paid for two of their best rooms and also paid to stable his horse. “By the time you have ordered your dinner, your trunks will be here. I hope you’ll be comfortable, ladies.”

Later, when she heard a knock on the door, Catherine opened it eagerly. As two seamen from the
Hepburn Rose
carried in their trunks, Cat felt a pang of disappointment. A short time later, her spirits lifted when a second knock came. This time it was a buxom maid with their dinner, and again Catherine felt let down. She pinned a smile to her face, refusing to acknowledge that she had hoped it was Hepburn. “It smells good ... I hope it isn’t haggis.”