Love Wild and Fair by Bertrice Small

town.”
    Several days later they stood in front of Fiona’s house in Edinburgh. Sally opened the door. Her eyes widened in approval of the two imposing figures.
    “Is yer mistress at home?” asked the earl.
    “She’s sleeping, my lord.” Sally wasn’t sure who this handsome stranger was, but there was no doubt in her mind that he was a lord.
    “We will wait then,” said Charles Leslie, moving into the house. “I am her uncle.”
    Sally put them in the formal parlor and went to get Mrs. Kerr. The housekeeper arrived a few moments later bearing a tray with wine and biscuits. “I am Mrs. Kerr. Might I know the nature of your business, gentlemen? My mistress is in a very delicate condition at this time.”
    “She’s nae had the bairn?” Patrick’s voice was anxious.
    “No, sir. Not yet, but within the next few days for sure.”
    “Tell me, Mrs. Kerr,” asked the abbot, “are ye of the new kirk, or the old kirk?”
    Years of religious feuding had made the townspeople wary. But for some reason, Mrs. Kerr trusted this man. Looking quickly around, she answered without hesitation, “The old kirk, sir.”
    “I am the Abbot of Glenkirk Abbey,” the older man said. “This is my nephew, the Earl of Glenkirk.”
    Mrs. Kerr bobbed a curtsy.
    “And,” continued the abbot, “the young woman who calls herself Mistress Abernethy is in fact the Lady Catriona Hay, the earl’s betrothed wife. For reasons I’ll nae go into, my wayward niece has twice fled her marriage. Now, however, the time for foolishness is over. Within a few days’ time the earl’s son will be born. He must, of course, be legitimate. If ye would be so good as to show me to my niece’s bedchamber, we will see her now.”
    Mrs. Kerr said not a word, but moved quickly out of the formal parlor and up the stairs, the earl and the abbot following her. On the second floor she pointed to a door. “That is my lady’s room. Let me waken her, my lord.” A few minutes later she stuck her head through the door and beckoned the men inside. Then she turned and hurried back down the stairs to tell Sally this extraordinary turn of events.
    Cat Hay, wearing a dark-green velvet dressing gown, stood with her back to the blazing fireplace. “Well, uncle. What brings ye here?” she asked calmly.
    For the briefest moment Charles Leslie was reminded of his grandmother, Janet “I’ve come to hear ye exchange yer wedding vows wi Patrick,” he said.
    “Such a long ride for nothing,” she said.
    “Niece! Yer time is very near. Ye carry wi’in yer belly the next rightful heir of Glenkirk. Would ye deny him his birthright?”
    “Save yer breath, uncle. I will nae wed wi Patrick. He does not want a wife. He wants a brood mare—a thing on which to breed his sons. He believes he owns me. He told me so himself.”
    Patrick winced. “Please, Cat I love ye, hinny. I’ve been crazy wi worry over ye and the bairn. Please, sweetheart! ‘Tis my son you carry.”
    “Nay, my lord. Not yer son. Yer bastard!”
    The earl staggered as if she’d struck him, and for a moment Charles Leslie felt sorry for his nephew. It was going to be no easy task getting Cat to speak her vows, but he had not risen to the office of abbot by meekness.
    “Leave us, nephew.” When Patrick had left, and the door closed behind him, Charles Leslie turned to his niece. “All right, Catriona, let us talk. I want the whole story. A year ago ye were willing to marry Patrick. What happened to cause this breach between ye?”
    Sighing, she eased herself into a chair. “At first it was but a misunderstanding. Fiona claimed to be sleeping wi him, and I was furious, and why not? He claimed to love me, and yet appeared to be sleeping wi another woman.”
    “You might have asked him, child,” said the abbot.
    “Uncle! His reputation preceded him, and I was a very young girl. When he found me at my house, A-Cuil, he beat and raped me, uncle! He said I was ‘a thing on which to breed his sons,’ and