It was immediately clear everyone at the table, bar Richard, did; a communal shudder passed around the room, even including the footmen, silent by the walls.
"Luckily," Catriona went on, her gaze still locked with Jamie's, "Seamus thought better of it, and allowed me to live as The Lady wishes, at the manor." She paused, eyes steady, giving everyone time to feel the weight behind her words. Then she raised her brows. "Do you truly wish to set your will against that of The Lady?"
Jamie blanched. "No, no! We just thought you might like to…"He gestured vaguely.
Catriona looked down and picked up her spoon. "I'm perfectly content at the manor."
The matter was closed. Jamie exchanged a glance with Mary at the other end of the table; she shrugged lightly and grimaced. Other members of the family shot quick glances at Catriona, then rapidly looked away.
Richard didn't; he continued to study her. Her authority was remarkable, she used it like a shield. She'd put it up and Jamie, poor sod, had run headlong into it. Richard recognized the ploy; she'd tried the same with him with her "Put me down," but he'd been too experienced to fall for it-she'd been all woman once he'd got his hands on her, soft, warm, and pliant. The thought of having his hands on her again, of having her warm, pliant, feminine flesh beneath him, made him shift in his seat.
And focused his mind even more. On why, exactly, he found her so… appealing. She wasn't, in fact, classically beautiful; she was more powerfully attractive than that. It was, he decided, noting the independent set of her too-determined chin, the underlying sense of wildness that caught him-caught and focused his hunter's instincts so forcefully. Her aura of mystery, of magic, of feminine forces too powerful for simple words, was an open challenge to a man like him.
A bored rake like him.
She would never have been acceptable within the ton; that hint of the wild was far too strong for society's palate. She was no meek miss; she was different, and used no guile to conceal it. Her confidence, her presence, her authority had led him to think her in her late twenties; now he could see her more clearly, he realized that wasn't so. Early twenties. Which made her assurance and self confidence even more intriguing. More challenging.
Richard set down his goblet; he'd had enough of cold silence. "Have you lived at this manor long, Miss Hennessy?"
She looked up, faint surprise in her eyes. "All my life, Mr. Cynster."
Richard raised his brows. "Where, exactly, is it?"
"In the Lowlands." When he waited, patently wanting more, she added: "The manor stands in the Vale of Casphairn, which is a valley in the foothills of Merrick." Licking trifle from her spoon, she considered him. "That's-"
"In the Galloway Hills," he returned.
Her brows rose. "Indeed."
"And who is your landlord?"
"No one." When he again raised his brows, she explained: "I own the manor-I inherited it from my parents."
Richard inclined his head. "And this lady you speak of?"
The smile she gave him was ageless. "The Lady." The cadence of her voice changed, investing her words with reverence. "She Who Knows All."
"Ah." Richard blinked. "I see." And he did. Christianity might rule in London and the towns, and in the Parliament, but the auld ways, the doctrines of days past, still held sway in the countryside. He had grown up in rural Cambridgeshire, in the fields and copses seeing the old women gathering herbs, hearing of their balms and potions that could cure a large spectrum of mortal ills. He'd seen too much to be skeptical, and knew enough to treat any such practitioner with due respect.
She'd held his gaze steadily; Richard saw the gleam of triumph, of victorious smugness in her eyes. She thought she'd successfully warned him off-scared him away. Inwardly, his grin was the very essence of predatory; outwardly, his expression said nothing at all.
"Catriona?"
They both turned to see Mary rising and beckoning; Catriona rose, too, and joined the female exodus to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port.
Which was, to Richard's immense relief, excellent. Twirling his glass, he considered the ruby liquid within. "So," -he flicked a glance at Jamie-"Catriona is now in your care?"
Jamie's sigh was heartfelt. "Yes-for another three years. Until she's twenty five."
"Are her parents long dead?"
"Six years. They were killed in an accident in Glasgow while arranging to buy a cargo-a terrible shock it was."
Richard raised his brows. "An especially big shock for Catriona. She would have been-what? Seventeen?"
"Sixteen. Naturally, Da' wanted her here-the vale's an isolated spot, no place for a lone girl, you'd think."
"She wouldn't come?"