Scandals Bride

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.

Chapter 16

Catriona was late down to breakfast the next morning, but not quite as late as had been her wont in recent times. While Richard's morning demands hadn't abated in the slightest, she felt less drained, less exhausted from fulfilling them. Perhaps she was growing used to waking up that way.

Whatever, her energy was at a high as she descended the stairs, her feet tripping, her heart light. Smiling brightly, she swept into the dining hall, beaming at all in sight. At the main table on the dais, Richard was looking down at his plate. Her heart buoyed on a wave of sheer joy, Catriona rounded the table and went to her place beside him.

He sensed her presence and tried to turn her way-tried to straighten his back, tried to lift his head and look at her.

Catriona slowed; horrified, she took in his slack features, the pallor of his skin.

Hunched, his heavy lids hooding his blue eyes, he made a heroic effort to lift his arm toward her.

He crashed out of his chair.

With a pained cry, Catriona flung herself to her knees beside him. About them, shouts and exclamations rang; chairs scraped as everyone rose. Frantically searching for a pulse at his throat, Catriona barely heard.

Then Worboys pushed through and went heavily down on his knees on Richard's other side. 'Sir!'

The pain in his cry was echoed in Catriona's heart. 'He's still alive.' A panic like nothing she'd ever known had locked a vise about her lungs. Dragging in what air she could, she framed Richard's face in her hands; with her thumbs, she pried open his lids.

They rose, just enough to confirm her worst fears. He was drugged-heavily, heavily drugged.

She sensed him gather his strength-he blinked and looked directly at her, his eyes focused by sheer force of will. Then, with an even greater effort, he turned his head to Worboys. ''Get Devil.' He licked his dry lips. 'Immediately!'

'Yes, of course, sir. But…'

Worboys' words faded as Richard, with such intense effort it was painful to watch, turned his head until, once more, he was looking at Catriona. Jaw clenching, he lifted one hand, fingers extended, to her, to her face-

A spasm twisted his features; he gave a choked gasp, and his lids fell.

His hand fell, too; his head lolled.

He was unconscious.

Only the slow beat of his heart beneath her palm stopped Catriona from wailing. Others did, believing the worst-she hushed them with a word.

'He still lives. Quickly-some wine! Then I'll need to get him to our bed.'

That first night was not going to be the worst-Catriona knew it. Richard's life hung by a thread-a steadily fraying one. Only the fact that she'd been there, on the spot when the poison first took hold, had saved him-if she'd been even five minutes later, it would have been too late.