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brother’s defense. “They asked my permission,” he lied smoothly, “but, uncle, I must apologize to you for not consulting wi you beforehand. My own upcoming nuptials have addled my brain.” He turned to his younger brother and said sternly. “It was nae yer place to announce yer intentions until I had spoken to our uncle.”
    Adam looked properly contrite.
    “Come, my uncle of Sithean,” said the Earl of Glenkirk. “Let us speak privately. Even a beautiful widow must have a dowry.”
    Before he could protest, the Lord of Sithean found himself borne off to the library, where Adam apprised him of the fact that his daughter would always be barren, and that he was lucky to get any son-in-law at all considering that fact.
    “Then why do ye want her?” asked Sithean.
    “Because, uncle, I love the minx.”
    Sithean said no more. He had never found his daughter particularly lovable, and he knew her reputation. Considering himself lucky to be rid of her again, he named a very generous figure for her dowry and was accepted. The wedding was set for the spring.
    When their uncle had left, Glenkirk turned to his brother. “Why?” he asked. “Ye could have had pretty Isabella Forbes, and legitimate sons.”
    “Because, Patrick, I really do love Fiona. I have since I was a boy.”
    “She’s a whore! Forgie me, Adam, but she’ll lie wi any man.”
    “Not now she won’t. Dinna look so skeptical, Patrick. Remember Nelly Baird?”
    “Aye,” said Glenkirk ruefully, recalling a particularly lovely wench he’d been keeping in Edinburgh. She’d been all his until he let his brother spend a night with her.
    Adam laughed and then, becoming serious again, said, “Fiona will whore no longer. It’s just that her capacity for love is great, and until last night no man was big enough to fill it. I am, and she’s content now.”
    “But ye could hae had legitimate sons wi the Forbes girl.”
    “You and James and Michael will all have sons to carry on our branch of the family. I’d rather hae my little red-haired bitch.”
    “I’ll not say ye nay, brother,” said the earl, “for young Mistress Catriona Hay has me dancing a merry tune.”
    “Take my advice, Patrick, and tame the wench, or ye’ll hae no peace in yer house.”
    “Aye, but how?”
    Adam shrugged his shoulders. “That,” he said, “is yer problem, brother. I’ve got my own, and her name is Fiona.”
    Margaret Leslie stormed into the library.
    “How could ye!” she raged at her oldest son. “How could ye allow your brother to wed wi that … harlot? Sithean is chortling wi glee at having rid himself of the bitch a second time. Fiona may be my niece, but I will nae allow one of my boys to mate wi that she-wolf!”
    Patrick drew himself up and looked down at his mother. “I would remind ye, madame, that I am the head of this family, not you. I make the decisions here. Adam is in love wi Fiona, and she wi him Sithean has consented, and supplied a generous dowry. They wed in the spring. Ye will welcome her as ye have welcomed Catriona, and Ailis Hay, and as ye will welcome Isbella Forbes.”
    Margaret Leslie turned to her younger son. He took his mother’s hands in his. “I do love her, mother,” he said. “Ye had yer happy years wi father. Now I would hae mine wi Fiona.”
    Meg Leslie burst into tears, and her two sons put their arms about her.
    “Ye were always willful. All of you boys!”
    “Madame, we would be happy. You and our father set us the example,” said Adam.
    She sniffed delicately. Wiping her eyes, she smiled at them “Very well, my lord earl, and my foolish younger son. I shall welcome Fiona, though I still believe it to be wrong. The lass has a streak of mischief in her. She can be wicked when she chooses. I dinna like it.”

Chapter 4

    T HE Earl of Glenkirk wooed his bride-to-be with the elegance and grace of a French courtier. When Ellen brought Cat breakfast each morning, there was always something on the tray from Patrick.