Read Online Love Wild and Fair by Bertrice Small - Free Book Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
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betrothed a prisoner at A-Cuil. Often he rode the almost two hours down to Glenkirk so he might attend to his estate’s business. Many days he hunted to provide game for his small household. But never did he spend a night away from Cat.
Though she would never have told him so, Cat now looked forward to the nights she spent in Patrick’s arms. She was young, and healthy, and more than half in love with her handsome husband-to-be. As for the earl, he was passionately in love with her, and would have killed any man who dared to look upon her with even the slightest interest.
As the days grew warmer and longer, he took her upon his horse and rode with her through the forest and the high meadows. Several times they made love beneath the sun in fields of new heather. She was as warm as wine, and as sweet as honey. Patrick marveled that he, who had never been faithful to one woman for more than a week or two at a time, dreaded the thought of returning to Glenkirk and sharing her with even his family.
The return would be soon. Cat had not yet connected her loss of a show of blood with impending motherhood. Ellen had, and she sought a way to bring the matter to her young mistress’s attention. One morning opportunity presented itself.
The earl had risen early and gone to Glenkirk. Ellen cheerfully entered the bedchamber bearing a tray that held a small pigeon pie, fresh from the oven. “Yer favorite,” she chortled. “Doesn’t it smell wonderful,” she enthused, waving the tray beneath her lady’s nose.
Cat went white. Scrambling from the bed, she grabbed the basin from the table and retched into it.
“Och,” sympathized Ellen, putting down the tray and wiping the girl’s damp forehead with the linen chamber cloth. “Back into bed wi you, my dearie.” She tucked Cat in. “The naughty laddie, to make his mama so sick,” she said coyly.
Cat stared at her tiring woman as if she had lost her mind. “What are ye babbling about, Ellie? And take that damned pie away, or I’ll be sick again! Get me some brown ale to drink, and some oat cakes.”
Ellen removed the offending pie and returned a few minutes later with the requested meal. She watched as Cat cautiously sipped the ale, and then, apparently satisfied, wolfed down the oat cakes.
“How do ye feel now?” she asked.
“Better. I canna think what made me so sick. It’s the third time it’s happened in the last week. Do ye think that perhaps something has gone rotten in the larder?”
“Mistress Cat!” Ellen was exasperated beyond all. “Ye be wi child! He’s put his bairn in yer belly, and now we can go home!”
Cat’s leaf-green eyes widened. “No,” she whispered. “No! No! No!”
“Aye! Yer ripening! There’s no doubt about it. The earl will be so happy!”
Catriona turned angrily on Ellen. “If ye dare to tell him, I’ll cut yer tongue out! Do ye understand me?”
“My lady!”
Cat closed her eyes for a moment Opening them again, she spoke calmly and quietly.
“I
will tell my lord of my condition, Ellie, but not yet The moment he knows, he’ll rush me down to Glenkirk. I dinna want to leave A-Cuil yet Please. I canna be very far along. There is time.”
Ellen was soft-hearted by nature. The thought that her young mistress wanted a little more time alone with the earl appealed to her sense of romance. “When was yer last show?” she asked.
Cat thought a moment “Early May,” she said.
“Ah, sweeting, yer a good three months along,” said Ellen, “but we can wait a week or so before his lordship must know. The wee laddie will be a winter child.”
“No hints, Ellie. No arch looks. I would surprise the earl.”
And she might have told him, and gone meekly home to Glenkirk, had not Patrick himself spoiled it Kept at Glenkirk for three days and nights by a foolish problem, he arrived back at A-Cuil as randy as a young stallion in first heat.
Cat had decided to tell him, and she ran joyfully to greet him only to have him
Though she would never have told him so, Cat now looked forward to the nights she spent in Patrick’s arms. She was young, and healthy, and more than half in love with her handsome husband-to-be. As for the earl, he was passionately in love with her, and would have killed any man who dared to look upon her with even the slightest interest.
As the days grew warmer and longer, he took her upon his horse and rode with her through the forest and the high meadows. Several times they made love beneath the sun in fields of new heather. She was as warm as wine, and as sweet as honey. Patrick marveled that he, who had never been faithful to one woman for more than a week or two at a time, dreaded the thought of returning to Glenkirk and sharing her with even his family.
The return would be soon. Cat had not yet connected her loss of a show of blood with impending motherhood. Ellen had, and she sought a way to bring the matter to her young mistress’s attention. One morning opportunity presented itself.
The earl had risen early and gone to Glenkirk. Ellen cheerfully entered the bedchamber bearing a tray that held a small pigeon pie, fresh from the oven. “Yer favorite,” she chortled. “Doesn’t it smell wonderful,” she enthused, waving the tray beneath her lady’s nose.
Cat went white. Scrambling from the bed, she grabbed the basin from the table and retched into it.
“Och,” sympathized Ellen, putting down the tray and wiping the girl’s damp forehead with the linen chamber cloth. “Back into bed wi you, my dearie.” She tucked Cat in. “The naughty laddie, to make his mama so sick,” she said coyly.
Cat stared at her tiring woman as if she had lost her mind. “What are ye babbling about, Ellie? And take that damned pie away, or I’ll be sick again! Get me some brown ale to drink, and some oat cakes.”
Ellen removed the offending pie and returned a few minutes later with the requested meal. She watched as Cat cautiously sipped the ale, and then, apparently satisfied, wolfed down the oat cakes.
“How do ye feel now?” she asked.
“Better. I canna think what made me so sick. It’s the third time it’s happened in the last week. Do ye think that perhaps something has gone rotten in the larder?”
“Mistress Cat!” Ellen was exasperated beyond all. “Ye be wi child! He’s put his bairn in yer belly, and now we can go home!”
Cat’s leaf-green eyes widened. “No,” she whispered. “No! No! No!”
“Aye! Yer ripening! There’s no doubt about it. The earl will be so happy!”
Catriona turned angrily on Ellen. “If ye dare to tell him, I’ll cut yer tongue out! Do ye understand me?”
“My lady!”
Cat closed her eyes for a moment Opening them again, she spoke calmly and quietly.
“I
will tell my lord of my condition, Ellie, but not yet The moment he knows, he’ll rush me down to Glenkirk. I dinna want to leave A-Cuil yet Please. I canna be very far along. There is time.”
Ellen was soft-hearted by nature. The thought that her young mistress wanted a little more time alone with the earl appealed to her sense of romance. “When was yer last show?” she asked.
Cat thought a moment “Early May,” she said.
“Ah, sweeting, yer a good three months along,” said Ellen, “but we can wait a week or so before his lordship must know. The wee laddie will be a winter child.”
“No hints, Ellie. No arch looks. I would surprise the earl.”
And she might have told him, and gone meekly home to Glenkirk, had not Patrick himself spoiled it Kept at Glenkirk for three days and nights by a foolish problem, he arrived back at A-Cuil as randy as a young stallion in first heat.
Cat had decided to tell him, and she ran joyfully to greet him only to have him