Love Wild and Fair Read online

  Laughingly she shook her head in the negative.

  "Do ye like music, and poetry, and the melodious sounds of foreign tongues? Do ye like riding out in the misty quiet of a spring morning, or beneath a border moon on an autumn's evening? Does the first snow of winter delight ye? Do ye like bathing naked in a hidden stream on a hot summer's day?"

  "Aye," she whispered softly, and for some reason her heart beat quickly. "I love all those things, my lord."

  "Then, my dear, ye should love me, for I love those things also."

  Catriona's thick dark-golden lashes brushed against her flushed cheeks and the little pulse in her throat quickened. My first breach in the ice, Patrick thought, and pressed his luck further. "Will ye seal our bargain wi a kiss?" he asked.

  She raised her head, and her leaf-green eyes gazed at him a moment. Closing her eyes, she pursed her rosebud mouth at him.

  "Thank ye, Catriona," he said gently. "Thank ye for yer first kiss."

  "How did ye know?"

  "Innocence has a beauty all of its own, my love." He stood. "Let me escort you back to your guests."

  When they appeared in the hall, Heather noted with relief that her daughter no longer looked sulky and her nephew looked content. He'll win her over, she thought. And looking on Glenkirk with a woman's eye, she said softly to herself, "Oh, my Cat! What a lovely adventure awaits ye!"

  Chapter 2

  FIONA Leslie lay on her bed, musing about her cousin Patrick, the Earl of Glenkirk. She thought how very much she would like to be his countess. Instead, that milk-and-water virgin Catriona Hay was to be his wife! Ridiculous!

  Fiona knew that there had once been talk of a match between her and Glenkirk. Then Grandmam had interfered, and she'd ended up married to that weak fool Owen Stewart. How she had hated the old lady for that. Grandmam had known it.

  Owen had been sickly and, though eager for his lush, seventeen-year-old-bride, unable to consummate the marriage. It didn't matter at all to Fiona, who hadn't been a virgin since thirteen. She'd quickly found what she sought on her husband's estate.

  His name was Fionn, and he was a huntsman. He was big and brutal with no sexual refinements, but when he pushed himself into her, she thought she'd go mad with delight. Then the impossible happened, and she miscalculated. She wouldn't believe she was pregnant, and by the time she'd accepted the fact, it was too late to rid herself of the brat.

  She told her husband of her condition, expecting the weakling to accept it and keep his mouth shut. But again, she had miscalculated. Crawling from his sickbed, he called her all the things she was, and told her that come morning he would expose her to the world for a whore. Here, however, Owen Stewart had miscalculated. While he slept, his wife smothered him with a pillow. His death was put down to an asthmatic attack, and much attention was lavished on his pregnant widow.

  When the child was born, only Fiona's maid, Flora More-Leslie, attended her. The lusty boy was smuggled out and given to a peasant couple who had recently lost their own child. Fiona wanted no children cluttering her life. A dead infant was substituted for her own, and buried with much mourning in the Stewart family vault. Fiona had not escaped unharmed, either. It had been a hard birth. The doctor and midwife summoned afterwards had agreed that Lady Stewart would never bear another child. But her secret was safe. Only Flora knew the truth, and Flora had cared for her since she was a baby.

  Fiona was gleeful this night, for she knew someone else's secret. She had slipped into the library at Greyhaven to escape the attentions of her cousin, Adam Leslie. Adam had been lusting after her since they were twelve. Hidden behind the drapes drawn across the window seat, she had heard the entire conversation between Heather, Patrick, and the Master of Greyhaven.

  She.could not have been more delighted. Virgin Cat was afraid of sex! Glenkirk would not put up with that for long, and in the meantime Fiona intended to dangle her ripe charms before him as often as she possibly could without seeming indiscreet. She'd also see that Cat continued to harbor fears.

  "When ye smile like that. Mistress Fiona, I know it bodes nae good. What mischief are ye about?"

  "No mischief, Flora. I am just thinking what dresses I'll wear to Glenkirk for Christmas."

  Flora sighed delightedly. "Christmas at Glenkirk," she breathed. "Leslies of Sithean. Leslies of Glenkirk. Hays of Greyhaven. More-Leslies of Crannog. We haven't had a Christmas at Glenkirk wi all the family since yer grandmam died. I'm glad the new earl's put off mourning. The old Lord Patrick wouldna hae liked it. I imagine that since the earl's to be wed next year to Mistress Catriona they'll be celebrations regular at the castle again."

  "Yes," purred Fiona. "Christmas should be lots of fun!"

  But Cat unwittingly stole a march on her cousin Fiona. Ten days before everyone else was due, she arrived at Glenkirk by special invitation of her Aunt Meg, the dowager Countess of Glenkirk. Meg Stewart Leslie had been apprised of her niece's attitude by both her son and Heather, and she willingly supplied her eldest the opportunity to court his bride-to-be. She, too, had once arrived at Glenkirk a frightened bride, and Mam had welcomed her warmly with love and understanding. Mam was long gone, but Meg intended to pay her debt by helping Mam's favorite great-granddaughter, who was her own lovely niece.

  The weather was perfect-cold and sunny. Patrick won his first victory when he presented Catriona with a snow-white mare. "She's a descendant of Mam's Devil-wind," he said. "Ye'll find her fast, surefooted, and loyal. What will ye call her?"

  "Bana. It means 'fair' in the Gaelic."

  "I know. I, too, speak the Gaelic."

  "Oh, Patrick!" She flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you for Bana! Will ye and yer Dubh ride wi us?"

  So they rode the hills about Glenkirk during the day, and in the evenings Catriona sat with her aunt and cousins in the family hall of the castle. The fire blazed merrily while Catriona and the young Leslies played at charades and danced with each other. The dowager countess smiled indulgently, and the earl swallowed his frustration, for he was never alone in the evenings with his betrothed.

  Suddenly his luck changed. The night before the entire family was to descend upon them, he found her alone. It was late. His mother had retired early and, expecting the others to seek their beds, he had gone to the library to do some estate work. Returning late through the family hall he saw a figure seated alone on the floor before the fire.

  "Cat! I thought ye sought yer bed." He sat down beside her.

  "I like sitting alone before a fire in the dark of night," she said.

  "Do ye like Glenkirk, my love?"

  "Aye," she said slowly. "I wasna sure I would. I remember it to be bigger, but I suppose I saw it wi a child's eyes. It's really a lovely little castle."

  "Then ye will be happy living here?"

  "Yes." Her voice was a whisper.

  They sat quietly for several minutes, then Catriona spoke.

  "My lord, would ye kiss me? Not like before, but a real kiss. I hae spoken wi both Mama and my Ellen. They say the kiss ye gave me to seal our bargain was quite proper, but-" she paused, and bit her lower lip-"but a real kiss has more substance."

  She lay back, her leaf-green eyes glittering in the firelight. Slowly he bent and touched her lips with his. Gently, gradually, he increased the pressure, and then her arms were around him.

  "Ohh, my lord," she said breathlessly when his mouth released hers. "That was ever so much better! Again, please."

  He willingly complied and, with astonishment, felt her little tongue flick along his lips. A moment later she spoke again.

  "Did ye like that, my lord? Mama said the sensation is quite pleasurable."

  It suddenly came to him that she was experimenting with the things Heather had told her about, but was feeling nothing herself. Chancing her anger, he caught her in his arms and, running his hand from the nape of her neck to the base of her spine, molded her to his body. Fiercely, his mouth took possession of hers. Using all his expertise, he gently but insistently
forced her lips apart. Plunging deep within her mouth, he caressed her tongue with his, and rejoiced silently when a great shudder tore through her. He could feel her rising panic as she tried to struggle, but he held her firmly until it pleased him to release her.

  "Patrick," she gasped, and burst into tears.

  He gathered her up and soothed her. "There, hinny. There," he murmured at her while his big hand stroked her lovely hair. "Dinna greet, my love."

  "Why did ye do that?” she demanded through her tears.

  "Because, my precious little bride-to-be, ye were experimenting wi me the things yer lovely, feather-headed mother has told you. Ye did them without feeling anything yourself. Never, my sweet Cat, never make love unless ye feel it yourself."

  "I did feel it."

  "What did ye feel?" he asked.

  "I felt-I felt-Oh, God's foot! I dinna know what I felt then. I simply didn't want ye to stop, but then I did. I was all churned up inside, and…" She stopped, confused.

  He stood and helped her up. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he looked gravely down into her face. "When I was a lad of thirteen years I was formally betrothed to a wee maid of but four. After the religious ceremony was over, we were seated in a place of honor, and a servant brought refreshments. The wench's blouse was low, and I was just beginning an interest in the female form. I could not take my eyes from those fat white bouncing boobs. Suddenly, the child by my side poured her wine into the girl's cleavage, and scolded me roundly. I fell in love in that moment, and I have stayed in love all these years."

  She looked up at him. "I am forever hearing of your conquests. How can ye claim to love me when yer life is so full wi other women?"

  "A man has special needs, Cat. If he is unmarried and has no wife to satisfy those needs, then he must seek elsewhere."

  "Do ye seek elsewhere now?" she asked.

  "Especially now. Damnit, Cat! I want you! Naked in my bed wi your lovely hair in disarray crying out for love of me!"

  She felt a little thrill run through her at his words, and looking up at him said, "If ye will gie up yer other women, Patrick, I will wed wi ye on St. Valentine's Day of the new year. If ye would say good morning and good night to yer true love, then it must be adieu to all your other women."

  "Would ye dictate to me, sweetheart?"

  "I will nae share ye, Patrick. I will come to ye a virgin, and ye may make of me what ye will for yer pleasure. But I must be yer only love."

  "When we are wed I will consider it," he laughed. "Now off to yer cold bed, you nagging little minx, before I lose my self-control and take away yer right to wear yer beautiful hair unbound on our wedding day."

  Giving him a pouting look, she left the room. Patrick chuckled. What a wench she was, his Cat Hay! Not yet married to him, and already trying to run his life. Well, he knew two things now. His bride was not the ice maiden he thought she might be, and life with her was certainly not going to be dull!

  Chapter 3

  BY the following afternoon, Glenkirk Castle bulged with Leslies and Hays. Because she was to marry the earl, Catriona was spared the ordeal of the dormitory with her cousins. Fiona also escaped that fate because of her age, and because she was a widow.

  Upon learning that Catriona had been at the castle for the past ten days she hurried to find her and do what mischief she could. Cat was embroidering in the family hall, and was alone. Fiona settled herself.

  "Well, little cousin. How do ye like Glenkirk Castle?"

  "Very much," said Cat. "I'll enjoy being mistress here." She shot Fiona a wicked look.

  Fiona gritted her teeth. "Yer a brave lass to go into the wolfs maw as calmly as ye do."

  "What on earth do ye mean?"

  "Lord, child! Ye must know Glenkirk's reputation."

  "His women." Cat feigned boredom. "God's toenail, Fiona! Everyone knows Glenkirk's a devil wi the lasses. Tell me something I don't know."

  "All right, my dear, I shall." She lowered her voice, and leaned forward. "They say that Glenkirk's cock is too big. They say he's built like a bull. Having been married I know, and I must pass this on to ye. We Leslie women are very tiny. A big cock can tear us asunder. Why my late husband, Lord Stewart, was of an average size, yet when he planted himself in me on our wedding night…" She paused for effect, gleefully noting Catriona's white face. "Well, cousin! The pain was terrible, and it got worse each time. God assoil him! It was a mercy to me when Owen died!"

  "But I'm a Hay, Fiona. It canna be the same wi me!"

  "Yer mother was a Leslie, cousin. Daughters are fashioned after their mothers. I certainly dinna envy ye."

  Terrified, Cat repeated the conversation to Ellen. "Not so," said Ellen firmly. "That Fiona Stewart is just trying to scare ye. There's but a moment's pain the first time when the virgin shield is broken. After that it's just fine. Yer cousin is hot for the earl herself, the wicked hussy! She's trying to frighten ye off. Little silly." She ruffled the girl's hair. "All yer mother does is moon after yer father. Is that the act of a woman who suffers constant pain?"

  Annoyed at having been so easily spooked by her feline cousin, Cat watched Fiona to see if Ellen was right. Fiona grasped every opportunity to be near Patrick, to wear her lowest-cut gowns, to display her ample charms. The bitch, Cat thought! The red-haired bitch! She looked for her brother. Finding him, she said,

  "Jemmie, tell me what ye know about Cousin Fiona."

  Jemmie snickered. "It's said she's overgenerous wi her favors, but I hae never gotten her into bed. They say the bairn she bore Stewart was not his. He was such a weakling it's doubtful he ever stuck it in her." He looked at his sister. "Ye like Glenkirk now, don't ye, Cat?"

  "Aye."

  "Then beware Cousin Fiona, for it's plain to see she's stalking him, though I doubt poor Glenkirk realizes it."

  But Patrick was quite well aware of Fiona's interest, and had Cat not been staying in the castle, he might even have amused himself for a bit with his hot-blooded, red-haired cousin. He knew the whispers about her were probably true, but it might be fun to confirm them.

  One night just after Christmas, Fiona attempted to force the earl. With everyone else long in bed, the earl remained talking before the fire with his brother, Adam. He wanted a match between the Forbes heiress and Adam. Adam, however, convinced him that their youngest brother, seventeen-year-old Michael, would be far better suited to thirteen-year-old Isabella Forbes than he.

  "I want to marry soon, and not a child. Michael willna be ready to wed for three or four more years yet. By that time the Forbes lass will be ripe. Make the match between them. She'll go mad for his handsome baby face."

  Patrick laughed. "All right, brother, but who's the maid yer saving yerself for?"

  Adam smiled, and his eyes narrowed. "I've nae opened my suit wi her, but I will soon."

  The brothers sat awhile longer, drinking the mulled wine special to the holiday season. Both were tall, as their father had been, but where Patrick had his mother's dark hair and the Leslies' green-gold eyes, Adam had the Leslies' red hair-his was a warm russet shade-and the amber eyes of the Stewarts.

  Now, warm with brotherly camaraderie and rich red wine, they climbed the stairs to their apartments. "I've some good whisky from old MacBean's still," said the earl. "Come in, lad, and hae a drop wi me. 'Twill help ye to sleep." He opened the door to his bedroom and walked in, his brother close behind him.

  "Jesu," Adam gasped. On his brother's bed, the firelight playing across her naked white body, lay Fiona Stewart. "Why, bless me, coz! Yer the sweetest sight I’ve seen tonight!"

  "What the hell do ye do here?" demanded the earl, suddenly very sober and icy with rage.

  "Ye wouldna come to me, Patrick," she said softly, "so I hae come to you."

  He could smell the warm musk of her perfumed body. "I pay for my whores, Fiona. How much do ye charge?"

  "Patrick!" she pleaded huskily with him. "Please! I’m mad for ye, cousin! Marry yer milksop virgin if ye must, but take me! Be my lov
er. Yell nae regret it, Patrick!"

  "By God," said Adam dryly. "What's yer secret, brother? Fve yet to receive such a marvelous invitation from any woman."

  Patrick turned to his younger brother. "Ye want that?"

  Adam looked back at him. "Aye. For some time now."

  "Then take it! I'll sleep in your room tonight."

  "No!" screamed Fiona angrily. "I want you, not that boy coxcomb!"

  "My dear cousin," said the earl calmly, "from all the rumors I hear, ye hae certainly had much experience. Ye must know that making love to someone ye don't want is not only aesthetically distasteful, but damned boring to boot." Turning his back on her, he walked from the room.

  Adam closed the door behind his brother and shot the iron bolt home with a loud thunk. "Well, Fiona luv," he drawled lazily, "I hae been wanting to get ye in this position for some time now."

  "Go to hell," she spat furiously at him, and standing up she tried to walk to the door.

  Adam reached out and, grasping an arm, pulled her back. "Nay, hinny," he said cruelly, crushing a pointed breast in his hand. "Nay! Tonight yell spread yer legs for me!" He pushed her back onto the bed, and Fiona suddenly felt afraid.

  Since she'd first been tumbled in the straw of a darkened stable at thirteen by her father's head groom, she'd always held the upper hand in these situations. Helplessly she lay on the bed, and watched her cousin slowly strip off his clothes. The back and shoulders that faced her were broad and well-muscled. They ran into a narrow waist. Off came his trunk hose. His hips were slim, his buttocks nicely rounded. Adam Leslie turned around, and Fiona gasped in shock. Once she'd seen her father's prized stud stallion mounting a mare in a field. She'd hoped then she would find a man with one as big. Now suddenly he stood laughing before her.

  "Aye, sweetheart! For five years ye've been running away from the very thing ye wanted."

  "Jesu," she whispered. "Ye'll kill me wi that!" But the moist, secret place between her legs was throbbing hungrily. Practically crying, she held out her arms to him. His body quickly covered hers, and he felt her warm hand eagerly reach to guide him. Carefully he pushed into her, and having ascertained that she could easily receive his bulk, he began a slow, sensuous movement. Her body writhed wildly beneath him, her nails raking his back. As his movements became faster and fiercer, she began a low moaning that a few minutes later culminated in a shriek of pure joy.