Scandals Bride

Chapter 15

Despite the fire and its aftermath, or, perhaps, because of it, they both slept deeply and awoke early, still in each other's arms. The temptation to celebrate the night and its revelations was strong, but…

"I have to go to the circle." Her head resting on Richard's chest, Catriona pushed at the heavy arm lying possessively over her waist. "I should have gone two mornings ago-I really must go today."

"I'll go with you." The words were out before Richard thought; he quickly amended: "I'll escort you there-if that's permitted?"

Still trapped under his arm, Catriona wriggled around so she could look into his face. "You'll ride there with me?"

Somewhat warily-was he committing some witchy solecism?-Richard nodded. "I'll wait, and ride back with you."

She searched his eyes, searched his face, then her face transformed, lit by a glorious smile. "Yes-come. I'd like that."

It was all she said before scrambling from the bed; Richard followed, bemused. The smiles she kept beaming his way, even when-especially when-she thought he wasn't watching, tugged at his heart and made him smile, too. By the time they clattered out of the yard, she on her mare, he on Thunderer, she was radiant with delight.

He shook his head at her. "Anyone would think I'd offered to buy you diamonds, not just ride with you to your prayers."

She laughed-a sound so glorious it shook him-touched her heels to her mare's flanks, and headed across the melting snow.

Richard followed, easing Thunderer up alongside her mare. There was no point racing; the mare's short strides were no match for Thunderer's might. So they raced the wind instead, streaking up the vale in the chill of near-dawn, hoofbeats thudding in time with their hearts, breaths steaming as exhilaration overtook them.

Reaching the head of the vale, they slowed; Catriona led the way to an outcropping of rock that formed a natural shelf beside the circle. Sliding from her saddle, she glanced down the vale. The sun was rising in the purple mists beyond the mouth of the vale; the line marking the boundary between night and day, fuzzed by the clouds, advanced, unstoppable, toward them.

"I have to hurry." Breathless, she glanced up at him as he took her reins, then she threw her arms about him, hugged him wildly, then ran for the entrance to the circle.

It was not a simple circle of trees, but a circular grove, grown dense with the centuries. The shadows within swallowed her up as she ran down the dimly lit path. Richard watched until the flickering light of her hair disappeared, then tethered the horses and found a comfortable rock on which to perch.

He was sitting on a lichen-covered boulder appreciating the sunrise when she came running out of the trees, with such joy suffusing her face that just knowing that he, quite aside from The Lady, had played a part in putting it there, warmed his heart. Smiling, he rose, and caught her as she ran full-tilt into his arms. He hugged her, stole a swift kiss, then tossed her to the mare's saddle.

They rode back through the sun-kissed morning, birdcall ringing about them, the chill lifting as the sun struck through the clouds and brought the landscape alive. Snow still stood in drifts across the fields, but brown now showed as well. Behind them, Merrick was still completely mantled, but below the snows, the earth was stirring. Warming. Returning to life.

As they rode side by side into the morning, Richard couldn't suppress the feeling that he, too, had lived through a dark season and was now emerging into the light.

No longer in any hurry, they ambled about the low hummock that hid the manor from sight. Squinting into the silver disc of the sun, they couldn't see the buildings, but knew they were there.

"Hrroooo."

Richard reined in, blinking to clear his vision. Before them stood two of the vale's steers, in less than perfect condition. The cattle blinked sad brown eyes at them, then turned and ambled away. Frowning, Richard watched them go.

He had to start somewhere.

"Catriona-"

"I was just thinking-"

She broke off and looked at him; Richard quelled a grimace and gestured for her to go on.

Hands crossed on her saddlebow, she stared toward the manor. "I was just wondering…" She paused; he saw her lips tighten. "If you stay, will you miss the balls and parties?" Swiftly, she glanced at him. "We don't have any, you know."

"Thank heaven-and The Lady, I suspect-for that. I don't give a damn about balls and parties." Considering the statement, Richard raised his brows. "In fact, I haven't cared for them for years." He met Catriona's wide-definitely wondering-gaze and narrowed his eyes. "And I don't give a damn about the incredibly beautiful ladies who attend such events, either."

Her eyes searched his, then her lips formed a silent "Oh" before curving, just a little, at the ends.

Richard fought down an urge to kiss them. "I'm staying-and you can forget any idea that I'll grow bored. There's plenty to keep me busy here-which brings me to what I wanted to discuss with you. The breeding stock."

She grimaced and set the mare plodding slowly on. "I haven't been able to find any source that I consider suitable. Mr. Potts is waiting for-urging-my final authority to purchase from his contact at Montrose, but I know it's not right-not what the vale needs."

Richard drew in a long breath. "I have a suggestion." When she looked quickly around at him, he held up a staying hand. "I know I vowed I wouldn't interfere with how you ran things-with how you managed the vale-so if you want to do something different…" Frowning, he paused, then caught her eye, and drew in a deep breath. "The truth is, your whole situation with livestock badly needs an overhaul. The cattle herd is the most desperate case-they need an immediate injection of good quality stock. But your rams and ewes need weeding out, too, and the dairy herd is only just meeting your needs. You should think of diversifying, too-goats should do well here, and geese. The vale's a reasonably sized holding and while you've managed the crops well, the livestock could do better." Deciding he may as well be hanged for a wolf as a lamb, he added: "And your buildings, fences and shelters need repair and in some cases resiting."

She stared at him, then looked ahead, drew a huge breath and turned back to him.

"I know," Richard said, before she could speak, "I promised no interference, so I can work on each problem with you, behind the scenes."

Catriona frowned and reined in her mare. "That's not-"

"If you prefer, I can just list my suggestions, and you can take it from there." Richard halted Thunderer beside her. "Or if you'd rather, I can talk each matter through with McArdle and the others, and then write to the various dealers in your name and set up the meetings, then you could-"

"Richard!"

He looked at her stonily "What?"

"Your vow!" Catriona glared at him "I've already realized it's senseless to refuse your help with the business side of the vale. While the spiritual side of things"-she flung out a hand, encompassing the vale and the circle behind them-"and all healing matters must be left in my hands, I need you to help me with the rest."

He stared at her unblinkingly. "You need me?"

Catriona met his gaze directly. "After last night, you need to ask?"

A long moment passed. "But you didn't want me to help-I asked, and you said you didn't need my assistance."

Catriona blushed, the mare sidled. "I thought," she confessed, holding his gaze, "that you didn't mean to stay-that you were preparing to leave." She frowned, recalling. "In fact, I came to the library one morning to ask you for help with the breeding stock and heard you talking to Worboys, making plans to leave. That was before you offered to help."

Richard frowned. "You were behind that other door in the library?" Catriona nodded; Richard grimaced. "Worboys and his plans." Briefly, he explained.

Catriona sat back in her saddle. "So you never intended to leave at all?"

"Not until you made it impossible to stay." Remembering how she'd made him feel, Richard narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you think that in future, you could just tell me what is really in your witchy mind without trying to guess my thoughts first?"

Catriona narrowed her eyes back. "I wouldn't need to guess if you just told me how you felt." She considered his face. "You're very good at hiding your feelings-even from me."

"Humph. I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't-it's going to have to change."

"Oh?" Brows rising, he looked down at her, arrogantly challenging.

"Indeed." Catriona met his gaze, sheer determination in hers. The horses sidled and stamped-sending them swaying closer. She raised her brows. "I'll make a deal with you. Another set of vows."

Richard's brows quirked, then he grimaced. "Let's make them a little clearer than the last."

"Assuredly-in fact, these vows are designed to ensure future understanding."

Richard eyed her with increasing unease. "What are they?"

Catriona smiled into his eyes and held up her hand. "I vow before The Lady that I will henceforth always speak my mind directly to you-if you will reciprocate in like vein."

Richard studied her eyes, her face, then drew breath, raised his hand, placed it palm to palm with hers, and linked their fingers. "Before Your Lady, I swear I'll…"-he hesitated, then grimaced-"try."

Catriona blinked at him, then her lips twitched, then curved, then she threw back her head and laughed. Peal after peal of her glorious laughter rang out; mock-disgruntled, Richard reached for her. "It's not funny, being naturally reticent."

She stopped laughing on a gasp as she landed in his saddle, facing him. "Reticent? You?" As his hands ran over her body then slid beneath her hems, her eyes widened even more. "You don't know the meaning of the word."

Over the next few minutes, he gave her justification and more for that assessment, until she finally gasped, as categorically as she could: Richard! It is not possible on a horse."

It was, of course; he demonstrated with an elan that left her shuddering.

Neither of them noticed, on the sun glazed horizon, a flashing pinprick of light-a reflection off the manor's spy glass as it was lowered and snapped shut.

From the fence near the stables, Algaria stood, watching the two figures locked together on the back of the grey stallion, for two more minutes, then, her face colder than ice, she turned and reentered the house

That afternoon, Richard penned a detailed inquiry to Mr. Scroggs of Hexham, describing the breed, age, gender and number of cattle he wished to purchase on behalf of his client, unnamed. That letter was easy-he knew exactly how his father, or Devil, would have worded such a missive. By leaving the identity of the ultimate purchaser unspecified, he left the breeder no facts on which to speculate, and no reason to inflate his prices.

Enclosing the letter with a note instructing Heathcote Montague to forward the letter on, Richard sealed the packet and set it aside. Drawing forth a fresh sheet, he settled to write a more challenging missive-a letter to Mr. Potts.

That letter took him two hours and five sheets, resulting in a brief, single-page epistle. Rereading it, he smiled. After laboring to find the correct tone, the precise colors in which he wished to paint himself, he'd finally taken it into his head to approach the exercise as if he was Catriona's champion, her protector, her right arm. To wit, her consort. She was the lady, but he was the one who dealt with beef.

Proud of his handiwork, he rose and went to show her.

He found her as always, in her office, poring over a collection of lists and detailed maps. She looked up as he entered, and smiled-warmly, welcomingly. Richard grinned. He waved the letter at her. "For your approval."

"Approval?" Her eyes flicking to his face, she took the letter, then glanced at it. "Who…? Oh-Potts."

Scanning the letter, her expression softened from unreadable, to amused, to one step away from joyful. Reaching the end, she giggled and looked up at Richard. "That's perfect!" She handed the sheet back "Here-I received this in today's packet."

Richard took the letter she held out and swiftly read it-it was from Potts.

"He's becoming more and more insistent." Catriona heaved a relieved sigh. "I'd laid it aside to talk to you about later, but the truth is, I need to deal with Potts for our grain. He's always been our most active and reliable buyer, so putting him off over the breeding stock, especially when they're so expensive and will bring him a good commission, had started to give me a headache."

"Stop worrying." His gaze on her face, Richard heard the order in his tone, but made no effort to soften it. Maybe it was because she wasn't trying to conceal her feelings from him anymore, but he could now see-and sense-how deeply concerned she'd become over the breeding stock. He knew he was reserved, but with her witchy cloak of seeming serenity, she was every bit as bad.

She smiled up at him; he was relieved to see the clouds gone from her eyes. "I have-now I can leave all that to you." Tilting her head, she asked: "Do you have any sources or definite buys in mind?"

Richard hesitated, then grinned charmingly. "Not yet," he lied.

He'd surprise her-it had suddenly occurred to him that she'd been carrying the problems of the vale on her slight shoulders for more than six years. She was due a pleasant surprise or two. Like an unusual wedding gift-one she couldn't ask the price of, and so couldn't worry how the vale would pay for it.

Still grinning, he twitched his missive to Mr. Potts from her fingers. "I'll get this in the post."

He ambled from the loom, leaving her to rotate her crops, perfectly sure that Her Lady would, if not precisely approve, then at least turn a blind eye to lies born of good intent.

The next day saw him outdoors, marking out positions for large shelters for the cattle, both those presently in the vale and those he intended to add to the herd. Together with Irons Henderson and McAlvie the herdsman-excited to the point of garrulousness-he hammered short stakes into the ice-hard ground outlining the buildings, then moved on to mark out a series of yards, pens and races, all linked to the buildings.

"I see, I see." McAlvie nodded briskly. "We can move them in, then move them out, at will and without mixing the groups.

"And we won't need to get them all round to the one side neither," observed Irons.

"That's the idea." Taking a brief rest on the rising slope leading to the house, Richard looked down on their handiwork. "This will let us get the herd in quickly-they won't lose condition as badly as they do at present if they're properly protected. And we'll also be able to get them back out as soon as the snow melts. We can keep them in the yards until there's enough new growth in the pastures."

"Which means they'll be easier to feed, and it'll protect the pastures from too-early grazing." Henderson nodded in dour approval. "Sensible."

"We'll put gates inside too," Richard said, leading the way back down the slope to the held of their endeavor, "so that once in, you'll be able to bring them out into whatever yard gives access to the fields you want to run them on."

They tramped eagerly after him, McAlvie's expression one of bliss.

In the ensuing days, the new cattle barn became the focus of vale interest. All the farmhands and laborers at the manor threw themselves into its construction with an enthusiasm that grew with it-as its realization revealed its possibilities. Others from the farms dropped by-and stayed to help. The children, of course, swarmed everywhere, fetching nails and tools, providing unsolicited opinions. Despite the hard ground and the difficulty of sinking foundations, the barn grew apace.

"Oooh!" McAlvie's eyes gleamed as he surveyed the long loft running the length of the barn. "We'll be able to feed by simply pushing half bales over the edge and into the stalls below."

"Not this year," Richard answered caustically, handing him a hammer and directing him to a brace waiting to be secured. "Let's get this up, and the herd under cover, before you start to dream."

The end walls of the main barn went up slowly, rock and stone filling the wooden frames. Meanwhile, the long side walls, wooden slats over a complex wooden frame allowing for doors, gates, shutters and runs, took shape. The sound of hammering rang over the vale; with every day the sense of shared purpose grew. Eventually, every man had contributed something-hammered in at least one nail-even old McArdle, who had hobbled down to view the enterprise and hadn't been able to resist.

As a shared distraction in a season usually marked by doing nothing, the men, used to outdoor work, welcomed the chance of activity wholeheartedly, and happily immersed themselves in it. "Better 'n chess," was the general opinion.

Eventually, the women came to see what was afoot.

"Mercy be!" exclaimed Mrs. Broom. "The cattle won't know themselves."

Cook humphed. "Get ideas above their station, I shouldn't be surprised."

Catriona came down late in the afternoon, just before the light started to fade. Algaria, dressed, as usual, in unrelieved black, glided in her wake.

"This way, mistress." With a flourish, McAlvie conducted her around his charges' new quarters. "I'm thinking, if they spend winters like this, they'll regain their summer weight in weeks, rather than months."

Nodding, Catriona slowly pivoted, taking in the size of the structure-rather larger than she had supposed. "How many will it hold?"

"Oh, it'll take our present numbers easily."

"Hmm." Discovering a gate before her, Catriona opened it. "What are these for?"

"They," Richard answered, strolling up, "are for channeling the occupants." Taking Catriona's hand, he led her to a ladder left leaning against the loft's edge. "Go up a few steps and you'll see the pattern more easily."

Catriona climbed up, and he explained the flow of traffic through the barn.

"How very useful." Looking down, she smiled at him.

Richard reached up and lifted her down. "Useful is what I do best."

She smiled and pressed his hand; together they strolled to the main doors. Leaving him there with a lingering smile and a promise in her eyes, Catriona started back to the house.

Algaria trudged behind her.

Catriona stopped at the stable yard fence and looked back-at the useful structure her consort had fashioned from the materials and energy lying dormant in the vale. A soft smile curved her lips as she turned away and started across the cobbles.

Algaria, behind her, humphed disgustedly. "Newfangled nonsense!"

As often happened, winter refused to cede its authority without one last freeze. It came literally overnight, a storm that dumped feet of snow over the vale, followed by a cold snap, which froze it all in place.

The cattle barn, while far from finished, was complete enough to house the present herd. McAlvie, warned the day before by both Catriona and Cook's aching joints, had sent his farmhands to all corners of the vale to bring the herd in.

Everyone, both from the manor and the farms, had been there to see the herd, shaggy and gaunt, come plodding and swaying, lowing and mooing, up to the manor. Then McAlvie and his lads turned them down the slope to their new quarters; they'd gone readily, riling in through the main doors, heads up, eyes wide. Those watching had waited, listening for any hint of problems; instead, all they heard was a murmur of contented moos.

That had been yesterday; now, standing by the stable yard fence, Catriona looked down on the snow-shrouded barn. The contented sound still rose from the building. The herd was safe and warm; she could see footsteps sunk deep in the snow leading to the barn and guessed McAlvie's lads had already been out to feed them.

Turning, she surveyed the scene in the yard behind her. Irons was in charge of the team set to clear the pump of snow and ice. Richard was about somewhere; she could hear him issuing orders about sweeping some of the snow from the roofs of the forge and two of the smaller barns. The fall had been heavy; from what she could gather, certain eaves were in danger of snapping under the weight.

All the children had been sternly confined to the house; Catriona could see noses pressed to the window panes of the games room. But she agreed with the edict-every now and then, as the men worked to clear the eaves, a minor avalanche would ensue.

Even she was only there on sufferance. That much was obvious from the frown on Richard's face as he rounded the barn and saw her. He strode up. "I'm sure you must have better things to do than freeze your witchy arse out here."

Catriona grinned. "I'll go inside in a minute. I was just wondering"-she glanced at the games room-"how to best to reward the children. They've been so very good, helping with the barn, among other things."

Richard frowned at the fogged windows. "Why don't you tell them that if they manage to remain good until after luncheon, I'll give them another riding lesson?"

Catriona opened her eyes wide. "You will?"

Richard narrowed his eyes at her. "Any further orders, ma'am?"

Catriona giggled. Gripping his coat, she stretched up, kissed his cheek, then his lips fleetingly; then, smiling serenely, keeping her eyes on his to the very last, she drew her shawls about her, and headed back to the house.

Richard watched her go-watched her hips sway provocatively as she crossed the snow. Then he drew a deep breath, wrenched his mind back from where it had wandered, and returned to his task-that of being her right arm.

He had it all done-the eaves all checked, those in danger swept, all the stock checked and safe, paths to the buildings cleared-by lunchtime. Crossing the front hall on his way upstairs to change, he heard Catriona call his name.

She was in her office, seated at her desk with McArdle and a dour man he identified as the recalcitrant Melchett in attendance. Catriona looked up as he entered, and smiled, but a frown lurked in her eyes.

"We've been discussing the crop schedules." With a wave, she indicated the papers and maps spread over her desk. "We were wondering if you had any suggestions to make?''

We who? Aware of a certain tension in the air, Richard frowned and looked down at the lists and field placements. "I suspect," he said, "you'd know better than I."

"We were thinking as how you'd done so much with the cattle, that you might have a few pointers, like, about the crops." Melchett studied Richard unblinkingly.

Richard returned his stare, then glanced at McArdle, then looked back at the maps. "If you asked me about crops and rotation patterns in Cambridgeshire I could give you chapter and verse. But here? There's too many variables in different parts of the country to make facile comparisons. What we grow in the south won't grow so well here. Livestock are different-the principles of sound stock management are the same anywhere."

"But you must have some ideas," Melchett pressed. "Some principles, like you said."

Resisting the urge to narrow his eyes and put the man firmly in his place, on Catriona's behalf, Richard switched from his instinctive role as Catriona's protector, to that of her champion. "The only real measure of effectiveness in crop farming is the yield per acre. If you had those figures"-he looked at McArdle and raised his brows-"I could tell you if you were doing well, or needed to do more."

"Yields, yields." McArdle flicked pages in a huge worn ledger sitting on the table before him. "Here they are." He turned the ledger around so Richard could read it. "For the last five years."

Richard looked, and looked again. He'd expected to see good figures-Jamie had told him the vale was fertile and did well. But what danced before his widening eyes were yields consistently more than fifty percent above the accepted best. And he'd been raised in some of the highest yielding country in England. He said as much-in tones edged with awe. "These are without doubt the best figures I've ever seen." He returned the tome to McArdle, now grinning widely. Richard glanced at Melchett. "Whatever you've been doing, I'd strongly advise you to keep doing it."

"Oh! Aye-" The big man straightened. "If that's the way of things…"

Richard straightened and smiled down at Catriona. "I'll leave you to get on with it." Turning away, he added: "Incidentally, remind me to make sure my brother and my cousin Vane have a chance to quiz you when we meet." From the door, Richard caught Catriona's eye. "They'll be very keen to learn the secrets of your agricultural success."

With that, he left them, Catriona with her eyes wide, McArdle still grinning, and Melchett in a much more humble mood.

"Catriona."

On her way through the kitchen to the barn to oversee the children's riding lesson, currently in progress, Catriona halted and swung back to face Algaria, who had followed her down the corridor.

"Corby's just come in " With a graceful gesture, Algaria indicated the front hall. "He says the snow has snapped branches from at least five trees in the orchard. Do you want me to tell him to lop the branches off and seal the scars as usual?"

Catriona opened her mouth to agree, then hesitated. "Corby will be staying the night, won't he?"

"Yes."

"Good." Catriona smiled. "I'll discuss the matter with Richard-tell Corby we'll speak to him this evening."

With her customary regal nod, she whirled, eager to join the fun in the big barn, she hurried on through the kitchens, her smile radiant, happiness lighting her eyes.

Behind her, Algaria stood, silently contained, her black gaze fixed on Catriona as she hurried away. Her suppressed fury vibrated around her, an anger others could sense; the kitchen staff warily gave her a wide berth. Finally drawing in a slow breath, Algaria drew herself up, drew her anger in, and, lips tightly compressed, turned and quit the kitchens.

Leaving Cook, kneading dough, sighing and shaking her head.

"Thank you." Catriona pressed a warm kiss to Richard's lips the instant he settled beside her in their big bed.

"What was that for?"

"For your kind words on the crop yields."

"Kind?" Richard snorted, and wrestled her atop him, sitting her upright, straddling his hips. "Cynsters do not know any kind words when it comes to land. That was the truth. Your yields are absolutely staggering." He started to unbutton her nightgown. "And I was perfectly serious about Devil and Vane wanting to talk to you. They will. They'll be excessively glad I've married you."

"Will they?"

"Hmm." Frowning, Richard struggled with the tiny button at her throat. "They both manage lots of acres. In Devil's case, being Cambridgeshire, it's mostly crops, but Vane farms in Kent-hops, fruit and nuts, mainly."

"Mmm."

The odd sound, one of surprised discovery, had Richard looking into her face. "Mmm what?"

She refocused on him. "Mmm, I'd envisaged your brother and cousins as "gentlemen about town," more interested in assessing ladies' contours than the contours of land"

"Ah, well…" Richard popped the button located between her breasts. "I wouldn't say Cynsters ever totally lose their interest in ladies' contours." He popped the next button and couldn't imagine that being otherwise. "Land, however, is our other obsession-an equally abiding one."

Her gaze abstracted, Catriona considered that. She opened her lips on a question-Richard distracted her by opening her gown. Lifting the sides wide, baring her to his gaze, but leaving it draped on her shoulders. Her hands resting for balance on his arms she glanced down-a wild sensation of nakedness swept her, stronger, more titillating than if she'd been completely bare. Her skin flushed and prickled, all over. Even over her back and bottom, the backs of her thighs, all still cloaked in the soft lawn of her gown.

But she was naked to him, totally wantonly naked, bathed in the light of the two candles he'd left burning, one on each bedside table. His gaze feasted; she felt it sweep over her-down from her throat, over the full swells of her breasts, growing heavier by the day. Her nipples crinkled tight; his lips curved, too knowingly, then he continued his leisurely perusal, scanning her stomach, taut and quivering, to the bright curls between her widespread thighs-which quivered even mote as the heat of his gaze touched her.

Closing his hands about her waist, Richard held her there, delectably displayed before him, while he pondered his next move. He was in no hurry to make it; he knew, very well, what her present position-sitting astride him, displayed, exposed to him-was doing to his sweet witch. She was melting, heating-just behind her flaming curls, she was open and vulnerable, her knees held wide.

He was hardly immune himself. He could feel the silky pressure of her naked inner thighs pressing on either side of his hips, could feel the warm, heating weight of her across his lower stomach. Half an inch behind the taut globes of her bottom, he was achingly rigid.

Then he remembered. Turning, he looked at the beside table; reaching out, he snagged the knob of the drawer, tugged the drawer open, then dipped his fingers inside. "Worboys found this in the pocket of one of my coats."

He drew out his mother's necklace, the finely wrought gold chain interspersed with round, rose pink stones. The amethyst pendant slid from the drawer last, swinging heavily on the chain. Richard held the necklace in both hands, gently shaking the pendant free-and for one wild minute, considered using it to love her. Considered placing it-the heavy, slightly bulbous crystal with its edges smoothed, the numerous round tumbled stones, each one carrying a certain weight-inside her, sliding it into her warm sheath, stone by stone, each pushing the wider, heavier crystal deeper, each pressing against her soft inner surfaces, drawing the necklace out, pushing it in, until she cried out, until she convulsed.

It was an attractive vision; with a mental sigh, he set it aside-for later. After he'd thought through all the possibilities, developed the idea to its fullest, made plans to extract every last ounce of sensuality from it. Then he'd break the news to her. But there was no need to rush, to miss anything. He had all his life to tease her.

With his Cynster smile curving his lips, he looked up and met Catriona's wide gaze. "For you." Raising his arms, he slipped the necklace over her head, then gently lifted her hair free. "A belated bridal gift."

He'd teased her about giving her diamonds-he was rich enough to give her them and more, but… in his heart, he knew diamonds would mean nothing to her not at the moment. But she'd been fascinated by the one sight she'd had of his mother's necklace-she would, he felt, appreciate it far more than other jewelry.

He was perfectly right. Wide-eyed, lips parted, Catriona stared down at the necklace as it settled against the soft skin of her chest, the heavy pendant sliding into the valley between her breasts as if it belonged there.

Perhaps it did.

There were times when even she was stunned to silence by The Lady's ways.

She knew her eyes were shining, knew her face glowed as she carefully took the pendant between her fingers and raised it to scan the tiny engravings.

"Do you know what this is?" Her words were hushed, tinged with awe.

She felt Richard's gaze on her face, sensed he was intrigued by her reaction. Eventually, drawing the last lock of her hair free, he answered: "It's my mother's necklace-now yours."

Catriona sucked in a huge breath-truer words he could not have spoken; it was as if The Lady had used him to voice her decision. "It's a disciple's necklace-the engravings say that. They're the same as those on my crystal, committing the wearer to allegiance to The Lady and her teachings. But this necklace is from a very senior disciple-more senior than me, or any of the past ladies of the vale." She had to stop, to fight for calm; her heart felt like it might burst with sheer joy. She moistened her lips. "This necklace is much older than mine."

"I knew it was different but similar." Reaching to the other table, Richard drew her necklace, which she left there every night, to him, then held it up between them. "I thought it was the same but with the stones inverted."

Catriona looked at him, then drew in a deep breath and nodded; he was involved in this, he was her consort. She could tell him the facts. "On the surface, of course, it is. But there's a deeper meaning." She caught the pendant of her own necklace. "This is rose quartz, which signifies love, and these"-she pointed to the round purple stones embedded in the chain-"are amethyst, which signifies intelligence. So in this arrangement, the stones mean intelligence driving love, the rose quartz being the focus. However"-pausing, she licked her lips and looked back at the necklace now lying against her skin-"this is the way it was supposed to be-used to be-before the supplies of amethyst crystals large enough and fine enough to make the focus crystals ran out."

"So," frowning slightly, Richard followed her thoughts, "this necklace"-he placed his fingers on the necklace lying on her flesh and was surprised at how warm it felt-"signifies intelligence driven by love?"

Catriona nodded. "That was the original meaning. That's The Lady's message, the one every disciple must understand and learn to live by. Love is the principal force-the driving force-behind all, all intelligent acts should be governed by, directed by, love."

After a moment's pause, Richard shifted, and laid Catriona's own necklace aside, then settled back beneath her, studying her rapt expression. Quite obviously, he could not possibly have given her a more meaningful gift. But… "How did my mother come to have such a necklace?"

Catriona lifted her head and met his gaze. "She must have been a disciple, too." When Richard raised his brows, she nodded. "That's possible. She came from the Lowlands, where there were once many followers of The Lady. It's possible that she was descended from one of the oldest lines of disciples-that's what the necklace suggests-but that she wasn't trained, or, even if trained, had been forced to marry Seamus."

Richard lay back on the pillows and stared at his witchy wife, stared deep into her green eyes. And wondered…

Her eyes widened slightly. "The ways of The Lady are often complex, far-sighted-too intricate for us to understand." Slowly, her gaze locked mesmerizingly on his, she leaned forward. "Stop thinking about it."

The soft command, enforced by an underlying compulsion, fell from her lips, the next instant they touched his in an achingly sweet kiss. Richard inwardly shuddered and decided, for once, to obey.

Decided to follow her lead as she wove her witchy wiles and drew them both deeper into desire, deeper into the heat spiralling upward between them.

Followed her as she shifted, lifted, and drew him deep into the shocking heat of her body, into the furnace of her need. He rose with her as she rode him, sweetly urgent, without guile, in undisguised abandon. Brushing aside her gown, he clamped his hands about her hips, then leaned forward and drew one turgid nipple into his mouth. He laved it-a muted cry was his reward.

He settled to feast on her bounty, pausing now and then to watch their bodies merge, to wonder, sensually dazed, as he gazed at his mother's necklace, now gracing his wife's flushed skin.

Then her heat reached flashpoint and exploded; she clung to the peak, her face awash with sensation, then, with a long, soft, sob of joy, crumpled against him.

Burying his face in her hair, he held her close, anchored her hips against him, and drove into her molten softness, once, twice, and again, savoring to his marrow the sense of completeness that was always his when he was buried within her.

Between them, locked in the valley between her breasts, crushed to his chest, his mother's pendant lay, pulsing with a force that was warm yet owed nothing to any fire's heat.

Closing his eyes, his cheek hard against his wife's fiery hair, Richard dragged in a huge breath and let sensation take him. Just as his mother's necklace had always been destined to find it's way here, to reside with his sweet witch in the vale, he, too, his mother's only child, was destined to find his home, his haven, his salvation, here.

In his witch's arms.

In her.

With a long, shuddering groan, he surrendered to fate.

"Master!"

Richard whirled to see one of the workers from the farm at the mouth of the vale come hurrying across the stable yard. "What is it, Kimpton?"

The man halted before him and touched his cap. "You asked that we should report anything not right, sir."

"I did. What's amiss?"

"The gate on the south paddock." The man looked Richard in the eye. " 'Twas fast last night when I did my rounds, but 'twas wide this morning, when my youngest went down that way."

Richard's gaze sharpened. "Did he close it?"

"Aye, sir." The man nodded. "And I checked it, too. Nothing wrong with the latch."

Richard smiled. "Very good. Let's see what happens."

Sir Olwyn Glean arrived just after lunch.

He brusquely thrust his hat at Henderson and charged straight for Catriona's office.

He started blustering the instant he flung open the door. "Miss Hennessey! I really must protest-"

"To whom are you referring, sir?"

Catriona's chill tones brought Sir Olwyn up short; he struggled for an instant to breathe, then drew in a huge breath. And nodded in a belated attempt at polite form.

"Mrs. Cynster."

After her exertions of that morning, let alone all the mornings before, Catriona was of the firm opinion she fully deserved the title. Regally, she inclined her head and folded her hands on her ledger. "To what do I owe this visit, sir?"

"As always," Sir Olwyn declared with relish, "to your cattle! Having them scattered about foraging two and three to a field through winter means you can never keep a sufficiently good eye on them. Fence latches break, or get loose-and then what happens?"

"I have no idea"-Catriona looked at him serenely-"but whatever it is, if the matter concerns the vale's livestock, you should speak with my husband." She waved toward the door. "He's in charge of the herds."

"Much good that is," Sir Olwyn retorted, "with him away in London."

"Oh, no, Sir Olwyn-I'm much nearer than that."

Sir Olwyn jumped and whirled. From just behind him, Richard smiled urbanely, every inch a wolf about to take a large chunk out of a marauding dog.

Catriona fought valiantly to keep a straight face; she nearly choked swallowing her giggle. As for McArdle, he looked down at his closed ledger and didn't look up again. The tips of his ears, however, grew redder and redder.

Smoothly continuing into the room, Richard drawled: "What's this about the vale's cattle?"

Red-faced, Sir Olwyn belligerently spluttered: "The vale's cattle have strayed into my cabbages and ruined the crop."

"Indeed?" Richard's brows rose high. "And when did this happen?"

"Early this morning."

"Ah." Richard turned to Henderson, who stood in the doorway. "Please fetch McAlvie, Henderson."

"Aye, sir."

McAlvie must have been waiting, for he was back with Henderson before the silence in the office stretched too thin.

"Ah, McAlvie." Richard smiled at the herdsman. "Are we missing any cattle this morning?"

McAlvie shook his shaggy head. "No, sir."

"How would you know?" Sir Olwyn scornfully interjected. "The vale's cattle wander all the time, especially in winter."

"Mayhap they used to," McAlvie stated, "all the other times when we've paid for your cabbages. Aye, and your corn. But not any more."

Sir Olwyn glowered. "What do you mean-not any more?"

"Precisely that, Sir Olwyn." Deliberately, Richard captured his gaze. "Not any more." Then he smiled. "We've instituted a new procedure for managing our cattle through the winter. We have a new barn-the entire herd's been confined there since before the last snowfall, so if any had won loose, the tracks would be easy to see. But they haven't." Richard smiled again. "No tracks. If you'd like to go with McAlvie, I'm sure he'd be happy to count the herd with you and show you about our new facilities."

Sir Olwyn simply stared.

"However," Richard drawled, "to return to your complaint, I'm afraid if any cattle have damaged your cabbages, they really must be your own."

Sir Olwyn's inner struggle showed on his surface-his face mottled, veins stood out on his forehead. He managed not to glare, but only just. All but visibly fuming, he swung on his heel, grabbed his hat from Henderson, went to jam it on his head, and remembered, just in time, to nod briefly to Catriona. Then he forced himself to nod, exceedingly stiffly, to Richard. "Your pardon," he growled. Then he stumped out.

Henderson hurried after him to open and close the front door. Returning to the office, he gruffly declared: "Good riddance, I say!"

Doubled up with laughter, none of the others could speak.

Catriona came early to the dining hall that evening. Sliding into her seat at the main table, she watched as her household-her people-filed in and found their seats, chatting and laughing, faces bright and smiling.

The manor had always been a peaceful place, secure and stable; she was accustomed to the sense of calm serenity that had always hung a comforting blanket over this room. The serenity was still there, but, lately, another element had been added. A certain vigor, a joy in life, an eager confidence to see what tomorrow held.

It was, very definitely, a male quality, owing something to assured strength, to experience, and to sheer energy. At times, it almost sparked with rude vitality. To her heightened, experienced senses, the new force melded and merged with the serenity-primarily her contribution; the result was a household more joyfully alive, more happy and content in its peace, than had existed before.

She knew from whom that new force derived; she had to wonder if he knew he was responsible. On the thought, he entered, pausing to chat with Irons and two of McAlvie's lads.

His hair black in the candlelight, his face so much harder, more angular than any others in sight, his tall figure so vital an amalgam of strength and grace that he threw every other male into the shade, he was the focus of her attention, her mind, her heart.

The focus of her love.

She raised a hand and touched the twin crystals that during the day rode between her breasts. At night, she wore only the older-she would never be without it. It was now a part of her, as it was meant to be. As he was meant to be.

Smiling serenely, she drew her eyes from him. Glancing around, she beckoned to a maid. "Hilda-slip up to our bedchamber and make sure the fire's built high," So the air would be warm when they retired to their bed.

The maid, one with sufficient years to read between the lines, smiled broadly. "Aye, mum-I'll make sure it's a right blaze." Eyes twinkling, she hurried out.

Catriona smiled. Just another little detail married ladies had to deal with. Inwardly grinning, she turned back to survey her people-and enjoy the sight of her husband among them.