“It is.” Bemused, Richard stared at it, then looked at her. “But wherever did she get turbot up here?”
Catriona raised her brows haughtily. “We have our ways.”
He hesitated, then grinned, and gave his attention to the turbot.
The entire meal was a succession of Richard’s favorite dishes—a fact that did not escape him. He caught Cook’s eye and saluted her, which made her blush vividly even while she nodded graciously.
He leaned closer to Catriona. “I’d go down and thank her, but . . .” He grimaced.
Catriona smiled, and fleetingly leaned her shoulder against his. “You can speak to her tomorrow, or the day after, when next you go through the kitchens.”
He trapped her gaze and slowly arched a black brow. “That soon?”
The words hung between them, layered with meaning. The air about them grew dense, shutting everyone else out. Catriona felt her lungs lock. “Oh, I think so,” she managed, conscious of that sudden skittering excitement that she hadn’t felt for too long. The rest of the room had vanished; all she could see was the blue of his eyes. “You should be able to . . . get up . . . er, completely, any day now.”
His lips quirked; a wicked glint lit his eyes. “You’ve no idea,” he drawled, “how thankful I am to hear that.”
Breaking eye contact, Catriona reached for her wineglass and took a much-needed sip. “Yes, well—there you are.”
“Hmmm—and where will you be?”
Flat on her back beneath him. “Busy,” Catriona stated repressively.
“Oh, I think I can guarantee that,” the reprobate she’d married agreed.
Catriona awoke the next morning, and saw—knew—what it was that the Cynsters had brought to the vale. The knowledge came as a revelation—a flash of insight, a crystal clear certainty. And in the same revealing moment, she saw their marriage—hers and Richard’s—in its entirety, its full meaning, its full glory. Saw why The Lady had directed her to his arms.
She was there still; she knew, in that moment, that she would remain there for all time. He slept behind her, wrapped around her, his breath, softly huffing, caressing her nape, one arm possessively protective, over her waist.
He’d needed her—to provide an anchor for his restless soul, to give him the home and position he’d needed, to be his warrior’s cause.
But she’d needed him, too—in more ways than one. He’d recognized from the beginning, and forced her to see, too, that she needed him to protect her and to ease the burdens that were hers through her responsiblities to the vale. What she hadn’t seen—couldn’t have seen—and what he may not have guessed, was that she needed more than that.
She needed to learn about family—large ruling families—something she and the vale knew nothing about. With Cynsters all around, she’d observed firsthand the enormous positive energy that, as a group, they commanded. They were not really moral, or religious in any way, yet they all, day by day, act by act, served one goal—the family, both their own smaller groups, as well as the larger whole. While their decisions were usually direct and straightforward, down-to-earth and obvious, they were also far-sighted, always made in the best interests of the family.
From the first, she’d been impressed by the incredible strength of the group, far greater than the sum of its parts. That strength derived from the simple fact that they were all moving in the same direction, all focused on the same ultimate goal.
The Lady’s ways were profound.
There’d been no large family at the manor for generations—the lady of the vale had, by custom, only one child, a girl child to take on her mantle. But times were changing—there would be fresh challenges to face, greater challenges. Challenges requiring more than the isolation of the vale to counter them.
Lifting a hand to her breast, Catriona fingered the pendant that hung there—Richard’s mother’s legacy. Through their marriage, a line older than hers had come into the vale; their child—their first daughter—would be the first of a new line, a greater line, sprung from the merging of the two.
She would be the first of a new family.
Catriona lay still and pondered that fact, while beyond the windows the sun rose. As dawn washed the land, she slipped from Richard’s arms and left him softly snoring.
Her revelations were still much in her mind when, later that morning, she repaired to the stillroom.
She’d been there an hour when the door opened and two bright faces looked in.
“May we ask you something?”
Smiling, Catriona waved the twins to stools before the table at which she was working. “How can I help you?”
“We have this burning question,” Amanda informed her, wriggling onto the stool.
“We want to know what we should look for in a husband,” Amelia stated.
Catriona opened her eyes wide. “That is a big question.”
“As you’re a healer, we thought you might be able to advise us.”
“We’re being paraded around at present—you know, so that all the eligible gentlemen can look us over and see if we might suit them.”
“But we’ve decided that that really isn’t sensible.”
“No. We need to decide if they will suit us.”
Catriona couldn’t stop her smile.
“Which,” Amanda declared, unabashed, “means we have to decide what it is we should be looking for.”
Catriona nodded. “I can see that—I have to say you’re approaching this in a very clear-headed way.”
“We decided that was the only way to approach it—that’s why we’ve come to see you.”
“We can’t ask Aunt Helena—she’s too old.”
“And Honoria was married over a year ago. These days, she’s so caught up with being a duchess and taking care of Sebastian, she probably can’t remember what she thought was important then.”
“And Patience isn’t feeling well. And she’s rather . . . absorbed—as if she’s thinking of her new baby.”
“But we thought you’d know—you’re a healer and they always know everything, and you’ve only just married Richard, so you should be able to remember why you did.”
Unarguable logic. Catriona had to laugh. But her laugh was kindly and gentle; inside, she felt deeply touched, humble, and a little awed. She’d been thinking about how she should learn about “family,” as if it was something she could study at a distance—and now here were the twins, reminding her that “family” wasn’t at a distance, it was here. She was, their blue eyes declared, already one hub in the giant Cynster web, accepted as such, available to answer questions on matters vitally important to the younger generation. That was how families operated.
Drawing in a breath, she eyed the twins, read the earnestness in their eyes. “As I understand your question,” she said, looking down at the paste she was mixing, “you want to know, not why I married Richard, so much as what’s important to look for in a prospective husband.”
“Precisely.”
“That’s our dilemma in a nutshell.”
“So,” Catriona said, “your question is really philosophical, and as such that’s something I can answer.” Frowning, she swirled the paste with the pestle; the twins remained encouragingly silent.
“A good husband,” she declared, “must be protective. That’s often the easiest point to ascertain. If he frowns at you when you do something barely reckless, then he’s noticing you in that way.”
The twins nodded in unison.
Catriona didn’t notice, intent on her paste, intent on her answer. “For some reason, the best men also tend to be possessive—and that’s also easy to see. He’ll scowl at any other eligible men about you and get irritated if you don’t pay sufficient attention to him. The next point, however, is a difficult one—one you need to be careful to get right. It’s often not obvious.” She rolled the pestle about. “He should be pleased with you—even proud of you—as you are. He shouldn’t seek to change you, or . . .” She gestured.
“Thi
nk you need to take lessons from his sister in how to go on?”
Catriona looked at Amanda. “Precisely.” Amanda’s tone, and the militant light in her eye, suggested she’d already stubbed her toe on that step.
“The last point, one which, in your cases especially, I would strongly urge you to consider, is his attitude to family.” It was on the tip of her tongue to explain that she hadn’t considered that herself—because she hadn’t known to do so. But The Lady had ordained her marriage—and The Lady had looked out for her. Pausing in her labors, she studied the twins. “You were born into and raised within a large and close family—not everyone has that advantage. But you would miss it dreadfully, and find life very difficult, if the man you chose did not value your family, and the concept of family, as you do.”
Two pairs of huge blue eyes blinked at her; in that instant she knew their thoughts. Family? They weren’t aware they valued the concept—it had simply been there, a constant all their lives; they had, perhaps until now, taken it for granted.
“Hmmm.” Amanda frowned.
“And, of course,” Catriona pointed out, “any gentleman wishing to marry either of you will have to run the gauntlet of your family.”
Both girls rolled their eyes.
“As if we could ever forget!”
“That’s always a worry,” Amelia said. “What if the gentleman we want doesn’t pass the family’s inspection?”
Catriona smiled and looked down at her paste. “If the one you want meets those four criteria, I think you’ll find the Cynsters will welcome him with open arms.”
Chapter 19
Catriona was not called upon to make any declaration on the question of her husband’s complete recovery; the next morning, Richard demonstrated his return to full vigor by ensuring he reached the breakfast table a full hour before she did.
When, distinctly breathless, having lifted heavy lids and found him—and the dawn—long gone, Catriona rushed into the dining hall, she was greeted with wide smiles by the other Cynster ladies and knowing grins by the Cynster men. Straightening her spine, she swept up to the main table; her incorrigible spouse uncurled his long length and rose to pull out her chair.
“I wondered when you’d wake.”
The words, murmured in a tone of absolute innocence, brushed her ear as she sat; Catriona stifled a too-vivid recollection of what he’d done to ensure she hadn’t.
Lifting her gaze, she met the Dowager’s bright eyes.
“Bon! He is recovered, is he not? So all is well, and we really must return south—the Season will start soon, and Louise will be wanting to take the twins to the modistes.”
“Indeed,” Honoria agreed. As Patience turned to speak to the twins, Honoria turned to Catriona. “I know you’ll understand—I want to get back to Sebastian. We’ve never before left him for so long.”
Catriona smiled serenely, sincerely. “I’m so grateful that you came and have stayed for so long. Naturally, you need to get back. And”—with her eyes she indicated Richard, on her other side, talking to Devil and Vane—“there’s really no reason you need stay.”
Honoria smiled widely, squeezed her hand in empathy, then looked across the table at Devil. “So we can all leave tomorrow.”
“We may as well,” Patience agreed, turning from the twins.
His gaze briefly touching Vane’s, then Richard’s, Devil sat back in his chair. And regarded his wife. “Actually, it’s not that simple. I’ll need a day or so to talk things over with Richard—there’s some matters I’ve set in train that I need to work through with him.”
“And I want to go over the trees in the orchard,” Vane said. “There’s some grafting work you should consider.”
“Don’t forget those funds that we must discuss before I leave,” Gabriel put in.
Honoria, Patience and the Dowager stared up the table.
“Does this mean,” Honoria eventually asked, “that you’re not yet ready to leave?”
Devil grinned. “It’ll just take a day or two.” He transferred his limpid gaze to Catriona. “We wouldn’t want Richard to overdo things and suffer a relapse.”
All the ladies turned to look at Richard, who returned their scrutiny with a look of helpless innocence. Honoria barely stifled a snort; she stood. “I suppose,” she conceded, “a day or two more won’t hurt.”
Honoria looked up as Patience slid into her chair at the breakfast table the next morning. “Have you seen Devil?”
Patience shook her head. “I was about to ask if you’d seen Vane.”
Honoria frowned, then both she and Patience looked up. Gliding more slowly than usual, Catriona joined them. She sank into her carved chair. And looked at the teapot. Then she reached out, lifted the pot, and, with careful concentration, filled her cup. Setting the teapot down, she studied the full cup, then reached for the sugar bowl, and dropped in two lumps.
Honoria grinned and exchanged a swift glance with Patience before turning to Catriona. “Where’s Richard?”
Eyes closed as she savored her tea, Catriona shook her head. “I don’t know—and I don’t want to know. Not until I’ve recovered.”
Honoria grinned; Patience chuckled.
Catriona frowned. “Actually, I vaguely—very vaguely, you understand—recall him saying something about having to be busy about ‘Cynster business’ today.” She cracked open her lids. “I assumed he meant with Gabriel.”
They all looked down the table, to the four empty places usually filled by the cousins at breakfast time. From the detritus, it was clear they’d already broken their fast.
Honoria frowned. “They’re not in the library. I looked.”
Patience frowned, too. “What I can’t understand is why Vane left so early—he came down before dawn.”
“Devil, too.”
Catriona frowned, then shook her head. “I can’t recall.”
Just then, McArdle appeared, stumping slowly along. With his stiff joints, he was always a late riser. Heading for the end of the table, he stopped by Catriona’s chair. “The master asked me to give you this, mistress.”
Eyes opening fully, Catriona took the single folded sheet and nodded her thanks; McArdle stumped on. For one instant, she studied the missive; Richard had never written to her before. Unfolding it, she scanned the five lines within—she blinked; her eyes kindled. Lips firming, she set her teacup down with a definite click.
“What is it?” Honoria asked.
“Just listen.” Drawing a deep breath, Catriona read: “Dear C— Please tell H and P. We have gone to conclude a business deal. We’ll be away for four days. You are not to worry. R.” She looked at Patience and Honoria. “The ‘not’ is underlined three times.”
* * *
They fumed and swore vengeance, then, all three together, they bustled out to the stable.
Catriona led the way. “Huggins—when did the master leave?”
Huggins straightened, letting down the hoof he was checking. “Rode out just at dawn, the boy said.”
“And the others?” Honoria asked.
Huggins touched his cap in a half bow. “With him, Your Grace. ’Twas the master, His Grace, and both the other Mister Cynsters, ma’am. They rode out all together.”
“Which way?” Catriona demanded.
Huggins nodded to the east. Catriona turned and looked, even though the house blocked her view. She glanced back at Huggins. “They rode out of the vale?”
Huggins raised his brows. “Don’t know as to that, but they took the road that ways.”
“Did they take any provisions?” Patience asked. “Saddlebags, blankets?”
Huggins grimaced. “They saddled their own horses, I believe, ma’am. There’s usually only one sleepy lad in the stables that early. I doubt he’d ’ave noticed.”
“Never mind. Thank you, Huggins.” Catriona motioned the other two away. Together, they crossed the yard and went into the gardens, to where, once past the side of the house, they could look down the vale, into
the now well-risen sun. Catriona gestured to the vale’s mouth. “If they left near dawn, they’ll be well beyond the vale by now.”
“Well beyond our reach,” Honoria observed darkly.
Patience frowned. “What on earth are they about?”
“And where on earth,” Catriona waspishly added, “have they gone to be about it?”
“Mistress! Come quickly!”
Three days later, working at the table in the stillroom, Catriona looked up to see Tom jigging in the doorway.
“Come see! Come see!” A smile splitting his face, he beckoned her wildly, then dashed toward the front hall.
Catriona dusted her hands and set off in pursuit.
“What is it?” Patience came out of the library as Tom’s running footsteps echoed through the hall.
Catriona lifted her arms in a shrug.
“There’s something going on outside.” With Patience, Catriona turned to see Honoria hurrying down the stairs. “All the children have rushed down into the park. There’s some sort of commotion going on down there.”
They all looked at each other, then turned and glided, as fast as dignity allowed, to the front door. Between them, they hauled the door wide, then went out onto the porch.
The sight that met their eyes did not, at first, convey much—they were just in time to glimpse the last of Tom as he flew down the drive into the park. His cohorts, nowhere in sight, were presumably ahead of him. Around both sides of the house, other members of the household and manor farm streamed, deserting the kitchens, the work-rooms, the stables and barns, all rushing for the drive.
McArdle stumped up to the steps, nodding toward the park. “We’ve some new arrivals, seemingly.”
His face was relaxed, his lips curving; Catriona was about to quiz him, when she sensed a presence at her back. She turned and beheld the Dowager.
Patience and Honoria moved aside to give her space; in her most regal voice, Helena demanded: “What is going on here?”
“Mooo-rhooo!”
The bellow had them all turning, staring at where the drive came up from the park. A huge hulking bull came lolloping up out of the trees, a long rope trailing from a ring in his nose. In his wake, a noisy gaggle of children, grooms and farmhands came tumbling, tripping and laughing, calling and screeching. The bull ignored them; sighting the party on the steps, he rolled happily forward, tossing his head, heavy rolls of muscle rippling. Cloven feet clacking loudly on the cobbles, he cantered to the steps, then, planting his front feet wide, came to a skidding halt. He looked the ladies over, then stared directly at Catriona, raised his huge head, uttered a mammoth bellow, shook his head vigorously, then looked down and exhaled in a huge, shuddering snort.
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