Scandals Bride

'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