Chapter 6

Chapter 6

C AT Hay angrily faced the Earl of Glenkirk. Carefully he spread his wet cloak over the back of the fireplace chair and removed his damp linen shirt. He sat down. "My boots, Cat!" They were the first words he'd spoken to her.

"Go to hell!" she spat at him.

"My boots!" His green-gold eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously.

Her heart pounding wildly, she knelt and drew his boots off. I'm not afraid of him, she thought. But why was her heart beating so quickly? Standing up, he caught her by her long hair. Wrapping it around his hand, he drew her face to his. Grasping the top of her shift with his other hand, he ripped it from neck to hem and pulled it off her. "I warned ye once that if ye ever defied me I'd beat ye!"

And before she could protest, he'd pushed her onto the bed and brought his riding crop down cruelly on her buttocks. She screamed her pain and outrage at him and tried to escape. But, holding her down, he raised several angry red wheals on her bottom before stopping. Tossing the crop away, he raged at her. "Ye've led me a fine chase these last months, madame! Had Adam not been willing to wed immediately we would hae been embarrassed before every family in the district. Does it please ye to know that Fiona held the place of honor at our wedding?"

Turning over, she gingerly sat up and faced him with a defiant, tear-stained face. "You bastard!" she shrieked at him. "What ye put between my legs, ye put between hers also! I'll nae forgie ye that! Never!"

"Little bitch!" he shouted back. "How could ye believe her? Never did I lie wi Fiona. Once she waited in my room, but Adam was wi me. He'd been hot for her for years, so I slept in his room that night while he took his pleasure of her. Never have I slept wi that she-devil!"

"Why should I believe you? Yer bastards are scattered from one end of the district to the other! Fiona said she could have any man she wanted, and then proceeded to describe your bedroom accurately. What was I to think?"

"Why did ye believe her over me?" he demanded. "How could ye lie wi me, and not believe that I love ye and would do nothing to harm ye?"

"Liar! I hate ye! Get out of my house!"

"Yer house? Yers? Nay, Cat. This house is part of the dowry your father gave me along wi ye. It belongs to me now, as ye belong to me." He pushed her back onto the pillows and bent over her. "Yer my possession, Cat, as is Glenkirk, as are my horses, and my dogs. Ye are something for my pleasure. A thing on which to breed my sons. Do ye understand me?"

She raised her arm. Catching a glitter, Patrick twisted aside as the arm moved down. He wrenched the little knife from her hand and slapped her face. "A whore's trick, sweetheart! Is that what ye want? To be treated like a whore?"

"I'd be a whore before I'd be yer wife, Glenkirk! No man owns me! No man!"

He laughed. "Brave words, lass. However, since ye've expressed an interest, I'll teach ye some whores' tricks. Ye've not begun to be facile in bed yet. Not enough practice. But I'll remedy that in the next few weeks."

"What do ye mean?" Her heart was pounding uncontrollably.

"Why, my dear. Until I put my bairn in yer belly, ye'll nae go home to Glenkirk. I obviously canna trust ye to wed me till then. When ye ripen wi my son ye'll hae no other choice, will you?"

Standing, he swiftly pulled his trunk hose off, and then flung himself back on top of her. He found her angry mouth and kissed her cruelly. Sliding down between her legs, he pulled them over his shoulders and buried his head between her legs. Her cries of terror quickly became sounds of shamed desire as his velvet tongue stroked and probed her.

"Patrick! Patrick!" she cried. "No! Please. Oh, my God. No."

Desperately, she tried to escape the demanding mouth that sucked her, the insistent tongue that tortured her. His big hands held her round hips in an iron grip while he pleasured himself by sending waves of fire and pain through her. Sobbing, she tried to deny him the victory of her climax, but he forced her twice. Then, laughing, he mounted her and pushed deep within her to find his own release. She felt herself writhing eagerly beneath him. Finished, he rolled off her and said coldly, "That my dear, was lesson number one."

Crawling into a corner of the bed, she wept silently, her shoulders shaking with great sobs. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but Patrick Leslie was certain that the least sign of softening on his part would ruin everything. He didn't want to break her spirit, but he would be master of his own home.

For her part, Cat was too inexperienced to understand the subtle ways in which a woman can control her men without them knowing it. Patrick would have been surprised to know that her tears were not for what he had done to her, but for the fact that he had bested her.

He pulled her into his arms again and began to play with her breasts.

"No!" she protested.

He paid no attention to her, but instead crushed the softness in his hand. "God," he murmured against her, "God, but ye've got the sweetest little tits I've ever known." His lips caressed her fluttering belly, but when he went to move farther down she cried out.

"No! Not again!"

Laughing softly, he raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her. His hand forced itself between her legs, and his fingers played. "Didn't ye like lesson one, sweetheart?"

She tried to squirm away. "When I tell my father how ye've raped me, he'll kill ye!"

"Nay, hinny. He gave me his blessing to do wi ye as I pleased. He knows that in the end I will honor our betrothal agreement and wed wi ye. That's all he wants."

Cat knew Patrick was right, and it infuriated her.

He pulled her under him and kissed her bruised mouth until she cried with hurt His lips turned soft, the touch of his swollen penis against her thighs spread them as her hips arched hungrily to meet his downward thrust.

Patrick Leslie laughed softly. "By God, Cat yer a hungry little bitch! I wonder if Fiona's as hot as ye are."

Her fists beat against his smooth chest. He laughed again, and then slowly went about the task of reducing her resistance to compliance. At last he fell into a deep sleep. Since there was no way she could escape him at that point she fell into a sleep of her own.

In the early hours of the morning he woke her and took her again. Her young body ached from the un-accustomed activity. Understanding this, he lugged a tall oak-and-iron tub into the bedroom and placed it before the fire. While she watched, astonished, he carried up caldrons of hot water until the tub was full. From somewhere he produced a cake of sweet-scented soap. Picking her up, he put her into the water.

"Ye smell like a brothel," he commented.

"Then ye should be right at home!" she shot back.

He stripped the bed, threw the sheets out into the hallway, and remade the bed with fresh lavender-scented linens. Then he disappeared and returned a few minutes later bearing a goblet. She was out of the tub, sitting before the fire wrapped in a towel.

"Drink this."

"What is it?"

"Sweet red wine, a beaten egg, and some herbs."

It was delicious. Taking the damp towel from her, he picked her up, carried her to the bed, and tucked her naked body into the cool sheets and down coverlet.

"Go to sleep, hinny. It's been a long night for ye." He bent and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"Where are ye going?" she asked. Before he could answer, she was asleep.

Patrick Leslie gazed down at the sleeping girl and thought how much he loved her, and how frightened he had been—imagining all sorts of terrible things happening to her—when she fled him. He wasn't going to give her another chance to run, and he certainly would not tell her of his feelings towards her. Women were better off unsure. Too, he couldn't bear it again if she said she hated him.

He bathed, dressed himself, and went down to the kitchen. Conall rose from the trestle.

"Sit down, man," commanded the earl. "Ellen love, gie me a bowl of that oatmeal your brother's enjoying so." She placed one before him. "Conall, I want ye to ride down to Glenkirk today, and fetch some clothes for Mistress Cat and myself. We'll be staying here for several weeks. Ellen, ye'll tell me what she needs, and I'll write it down."

"I can both read and write, my lord," said Ellen frostily. "If ye dinna mind, I'd prefer to write to Lady Hay myself."

"Very well, Ellen." He smiled at her. "Dinna disapprove, chuck. I do love her, ye know."

"Did ye beat her, my lord?"

"Ten strokes on her saucy bottom. I'll be master in my own house, Ellen."

"Only ten?"

"Only ten," he replied. "She deserved more, but I am a merciful man."

"Aye," agreed Ellen. "She did deserve more. When she was a child, however, beating her did no good. She was always twice as defiant afterwards." Ellen hoped he was paying attention.

"She's nae changed," he chuckled.

Ellen wrote her message to Lady Hay and asked that she send several changes of undergarments, two soft linen shirts, half a dozen gossamer silk night garments from Cat's trousseau, a velvet dressing gown, slippers, and some cakes of sweet soap. Cat, fleeing Glenkirk, had thought to bring her comb and brush and the brush for cleaning teeth that her great-grandmother had taught them to use. She gave the list to the earl.

"It's not a great deal, but I'll be here to wash for her. This is easy to carry, and will nae weigh Conall down."

"Good girl," he said, and turned to Conall. "Take Bana back to Glenkirk, and yer sister's mare also. The only horses I want here are our two."

"Oh, my lord," pleaded Ellen. "Dinna take Bana from her. She loves so to ride."

"She'll have her horse back when we return to Glenkirk. The more horses I leave here, the greater her chances of escaping me. I'll nae gie her that chance again. We stay here until she swells wi my child. Then I'll take her home, and wed her."

Ellen sighed. "She's going to be very angry, my lord."

"Since I shall be out hunting us a deer when she wakes, I'll be spared the brunt of her anger," he replied dryly.

It wasn't until early afternoon that Cat woke. Conall had just returned from his errand, and Cat opened her eyes to see Ellen kneeling by the little clothes chest "What are ye doing?" she asked sleepily.

"Putting away yer clean clothes, luv. Conall has just brought them up from Glenkirk."

Cat was suddenly wide awake. "Where is Patrick?"

"He's been gone since dawn. Hunting a deer for us, he said."

"Gie me a clean shirt, and my breeches, Ellie. I shall take my morning ride though it be afternoon." She swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Ellen took a deep breath. "I canna do it, Mistress Cat, and dinna bother being angry wi me. His lordship has sent yer Bana and my Brownie home to Glenkirk."

Cat swore fiercely. "The horny bastard! Then I'll walk out of here if I must, but I'll nae spend another night in this house while he's here."

"He has also ordered," continued Ellen, "that ye not leave the house for the next few days. Ye may go naked, he says, or ye may wear one of yer sleeping gowns. I am to gie ye no other clothes."

Cat felt a terrible rage within her, but she swallowed it, for her faithful Ellie was not responsible. "Gie me something to wear," she said wearily, "and dinna bother fussing, for it makes no difference. He'll have it off me soon enough, for there's only one thing he wants from his whore."

"Mistress Cat," scolded Ellen. "He is yer betrothed, and ye'll soon be wed. Ye would hae already been had ye not misjudged him, and run away."

"God's foot, Ellie! Has he won ye over then?"

Ellen said nothing else, but handed Cat a pale turquoise-colored silk nightgown. "I'll get ye something to eat," she said, and left the room.

Cat let the gown slide down over her lush form. Picking up her brush, she sat back down on the bed and slowly brushed the tangles from her honey-colored hair. So he thought that by taking her horse and clothes away from her he would keep her a prisoner. Well, perhaps for a while he would. She would bide her time. But eventually, a way would open, and then she'd run from him again. It no longer mattered that he had or had not slept with Fiona—though Cat was glad he had not What mattered was that she could not and would not allow him possession of Catriona Hay. Nobody owned her. Until Patrick Leslie understood that she was a person, not an extension of him, she would fight him with all the strength in her.

Ellen came back into the room bearing a tray. "Fresh bread new from the oven! Half a broiled rabbit, a honeycomb, and some brown ale."

Cat found she was hungry.

"Yer all right if ye can eat like that" observed Ellen.

"Only a moonstruck idiot stops eating in a bad situation," said Cat. "If I'm going to think of a way to escape his high lordship, I've got to keep up my strength."

"Mistress Cat! I dinna know why the earl puts up wi ye except he loves ye!"

"He loves me? Nonsense, Ellie! He thinks he owns me, and it pleases him to show his superiority over me by abusing my body."

Ellen shrugged. She didn't understand Catriona when she spoke like that. Taking up the empty tray, she left the room, shaking her head.

Cat began to prowl the room. Until last night it had simply been a place to sleep. Now she looked on it as her prison. It could be entered only by a door from the stairway. There was a small fireplace on the door wall, and to the left was a bank of casement windows. There was one small, round window to the right. It was not a large room, and held only four pieces of furniture—a large canopied and curtained bed opposite the door, a low clothes chest at its foot, a small table on the single-windowed wall, and a chair by the fireplace. A pier glass hung on the bit of wall to the left of the door.

She stood by the windows looking out. From her vantage point she could see part of the valley below, and into the forest that surrounded the house. She saw Patrick coming out of the woods now. He was riding Dearg, and a buck was flung across his saddle. Conall ran to meet him and, taking the buck across his shoulders, went off in the direction of the stables. The earl followed.

Opening the bedroom door, Cat called down to Ellen. "Prepare a tub in the kitchen for the earl, Ellie. He's just brought in a buck, and he and Conall have gone to butcher it. I'll nae have him dripping blood all over my bedroom."

When he entered the bedroom an hour later clad only in a rough towel, she couldn't help but laugh. He grinned back at her.

"You see, madame. I've done as I've been told. Come now, and gie me a kiss."

Shyly she walked to him, and putting her arms about his neck kissed him.

"Jesu, yer sweet," he muttered, running his big hands over her silk-sheathed body and burying his face for a moment in her neck.

"Please, Patrick," she whispered.

"Please, Patrick, what?" he demanded thickly. He drew her over in front of the pier glass, and standing behind her gently slid her gown off. His big hands cupped her lovely breasts, and instantly the nipples sprang erect. "Look at yerself, Cat! I hae but to touch ye, and yer hungry for me!"

"No! No!" she protested, closing her eyes tightly.

He laughed softly, and turning her to him began to kiss her throat, her lips, her eyelids, with tiny, soft little kisses. His mouth began to move downward to her breasts. He knelt and, holding her firm but gently by the waist, kissed her shrinking belly, his kisses becoming more intense as they traveled lower. His lips found the tiny mole, and kissed it tenderly. Cat began to weep softly.

"Don't, sweetheart," he said gently. "There's nae shame in being a woman, and enjoying it."

"Ye knew?"

"Aye," he said, drawing her down on the floor in front of the cracking fire. "I knew. I've made love to enough women in my life to know when one is enjoying it, even when she struggles like a demon, and vows she hates me."

"I do hate ye," she insisted.

He chuckled. "Then in the next few weeks I'll gie ye cause each day to hate me more." Swiftly he slid between her legs and thrust his aching manhood into her softness. She tried to squirm away. "Nay, hinny! I told ye last night that ye belong to me. And what I hold, my sweet Cat, I keep!"