'It hasn't escaped my notice that, other than you, only she knows enough of those elixirs and potions you store in the stillroom to mix whatever it was in that coffee.'
'Wolfsbane. Plus a little henbane. But that doesn't convict her.'
'No, but it makes her the obvious suspect.' He hesitated, then asked, rather more quietly, 'Besides, if it wasn't she, where are you going?'
Her gaze on her saddle bag, Catriona grimaced again.
She heard Richard sigh, then felt him shift. He reached past her, bracing one arm on the bedpost; sliding the other around her, he turned her, trapped her-lifting her hands to his chest, she looked up.
He trapped her gaze. 'Don't you trust me yet?'
She looked into his eyes and saw nothing but devotion-selfless, committed, and unshakable; with a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead on his chest. 'You know I do.'
'Then I'll come with you. No-' He held up a hand when she looked up, her mouth opened to argue. 'Consider me your protector, your champion-your consort. I'll hold myself at your command.' He studied her eyes. 'In this matter, I won't act without it.'
Determination and commitment were etched in his face, enshrined in his blue, blue eyes. Catriona studied them, then drew a deep breath and nodded. 'We'll be gone for two days.'
Mounted-she on her mare, he on Thunderer-they reached the mouth of the vale just after midday. Richard followed as Catriona turned the mare's head north; he waited until they were trotting steadily before asking: 'Where exactly are we going?'
'Algaria has a small cottage.' Catriona gestured with her chin. 'It's almost directly north. It's not all that far as the crow flies, but the tracks are not easy.'
That was an understatement. They followed the road from the vale, a relatively well-surfaced lane, until it joined the road to Ayr. Crossing this, Catriona led the way up a narrow sheep track, the little mare picking her way daintily. Thunderer hurrumphed-and clomped in the mare's wake.
From there on, it was nothing but sheep tracks, barely a trail worn into the rocky ground. Studying the poor land through which they passed, Richard noticed a field, some way away, planted with a low-lying crop. Crossing the field was a straggling line of gaunt cattle.
After considering the sight for a moment, he transferred his gaze to his witchy wife's hips. 'Aren't these Sir Olwyn's fields?'
'Yes.' She nodded without looking around. 'Both to the north and south.'
Richard looked to the south, to where the cattle now stood morosely hanging their heads. 'Looks like he's just lost some more cabbages.'
Catriona looked around, then followed his gaze to the distant field. She studied the evidence, then humphed. 'He never would listen when I tried to help him.'
Surveying the bleak scene about them, an amazing contrast to the vale, no more than a few miles behind them, Richard raised his brows. 'I can see why he wanted to marry you.'
Catriona merely humphed again.
They plodded slowly on through the afternoon; Richard called a halt, an enforced rest, on the crest of a small hill. The track wound about the top then descended into shadow. Sitting in the sunshine, he looked across the rocky, largely barren landscape through which they'd travelled. In the distance, a purple haze hid the vale. Catriona came up, dusting her hands on her skirts after feeding dried apples to Thunderer and her mare. With a soft sigh, she slid down beside him, settling against him when he lifted an arm about her shoulders.
They looked out in silence. Eventually, he said: 'It's beautiful here. Not pretty, but majestic. It's all so hard, harsh and rocky, it makes a place like the vale all the more wondrous, all the more precious.'
Catriona smiled and leaned more heavily against him. 'Yes.'
They looked some more, then Richard asked: 'Are we still on Sir Olwyn's lands?'
'Theoretically yes, but he's never farmed this area. Algaria's cottage lies just inside his northern boundary.'
Resting his chin in her hair, Richard frowned. 'So Sir Olwyn is Algaria's landlord?'
Catriona looked up at him. 'Well-yes, I suppose that's true.' Turning back to the scenery, she clasped her hands over his at her waist. After a moment, she sighed. 'If there's one thing I know about Algaria, it's that she must have had a very strong reason to poison you. She would not have done it lightly-not just because she didn't like you-not even because she felt so strongly that you weren't the right husband for me.'
'She never made any secret of that.'
'No-that's not her way. She never hides what she thinks. But to act as she did, she must have had some compelling reason.'
Hearing the fervor in her voice, Richard hugged her tighter. 'Why are you so sure?'
It was a simple question, accepting rather than dismissive.
'Because the only excuse for any disciple of The Lady to take a life is in the service of others. That is, she must be acting in defense, usually of others.'
'Others-such as you?'
Catriona nodded. 'Me. Or the people of the vale.' After a moment, she sighed. 'But that doesn't make sense-because no matter what Algaria
Turning in his arms, she looked into Richard's face, into his blue eyes. 'Can you think of anything-any act at all-that you've committed since coming to the vale that she could misconstrue as a real threat?''
Richard saw the worry in her eyes and knew it wasn't for him. He would have eased even that burden for her if he could. But… framing her face, he looked deep into her eyes. 'Since the day we wed, I've only had one aim in life-your well-being-and that isn't compatible with harming you or the vale.'
She sighed; turning her head, she pressed a kiss into his palm, then wriggled around and settled back into his arms. 'I know. That's what bothers me so.'
They pressed on as the afternoon slowly waned into evening; as the chill in the air deepened, Catriona turned into the mouth of a narrow cleft and pulled up before a rude hut. To Richard's questioning glance, she replied: 'We would have made it in a day if we'd started early enough, but we can't go on in the dark.'
Richard didn't argue-the track they were now following was little more than a ribbon worn into the rocky hillside, and aside from the cold, there were gullies and clefts aplenty, traps for the unwary. He dismounted, then lifted Catriona down. 'What is this place?'
'It's an old shepherd's hut. I doubt it's been used since last I was here.'
Unstrapping their bags, Richard glanced at her. 'Since last…? I thought you never left the vale.'
Taking the bags from him, Catriona pulled a face. 'I don't count my herb trips.'
'Herb trips?'
'At least once every spring and again in late summer, I travel to collect herbs and roots which don't grow in the vale.'
Unsaddling Thunderer, Richard narrowed his eyes at her. 'I foresee a developing interest in botany.'
Catriona grinned. Hefting the bags, she threw him a provocative glance. 'There's quite a lot I could teach you.'
Richard raised his brows. 'Indeed?' Hauling the saddle from Thunderer's back, he met her gaze squarely. 'Why don't you go and sweep the spiders out, then I'll get a fire going-and you can teach me all you will.'
Catriona's grin widened; her eyes danced as she turned away. 'Why not?'
Richard watched her hips sway as she climbed to the cottage, then he grinned and turned back to the horses.
The first lessons his witchy wife taught him had nothing to do with botany. The first thing he learned was that despite her delicate appearance and her usually cossetted state, she ranked with the most experienced camp-follower in the not-at-all-easy task of making a rude shepherd's hut seem comfortable and warm. In conjuring a warm and sustaining meal out of what they'd carried in their saddlebags and the roots and leaves she'd gathered before the light died.
In making him feel relaxed and rather cossetted himself.
It was a distinctly pleasant feeling.
Smiling serenely, Catriona watched the heavy muscles in his shoulders ease, watched the glow of comfort
