His gaze on her profile, he inwardly grimaced. The last two days had gone his way-all his way. She was his on one level at least. But once they gained Casphairn Manor, he'd face new challenges-ones he'd never faced before.
Like keeping his promise not to interfere with her role, with how she ran the vale. Like learning to accept what he meant to her-whatever that was.
That last grated, on his temper, on his Cynster soul. He was not at all sure he appreciated the hand Her Lady had had in bringing about their marriage. Admittedly, if it hadn't been for such divine intervention, Catriona might not now be his-not on any level. Witch that she was she was stubborn, willful, and not easily swayed, particularly when it came to matters affecting her calling.
His gaze locked on her face, he felt his features harden, felt determination swell.
It must, he reflected, be his week for making vows.
In this case-her case-he didn't even have to think of the wording, the statement simply rang in his mind. She would, he swore, come to want him on her own account, not because Her Lady had ordained it. She'd want him, all of him, for herself-for what he gave her.
That wasn't, he felt sure, how she felt about him now, how she saw him in relation to herself, but he was a hunter to his soul-he was perfectly prepared to play a waiting game. Prepared to lay snares, carefully camouflaged traps, to persist until she was his.
His in body, as she already was, and his in her mind as well.
His-freely. That was, he suddenly realized, the only way he d truly have her-the only way he d know that she truly was his.
As the carriage slowed, rocked, then rumbled through a pair of gateposts and on down a long avenue through the park, Richard watched his new bride-and idly speculated on just how she would tell him-how she would show him-when the time came, and she truly was his.
"Good morning, m'lady! And a good morning it is that brings you home safe and sound."
"Thank you, Mrs. Broom." Taking Richard's hand, Catriona descended the steps of his carriage, and, to her surprise, couldn't exactly place what her housekeeper was thinking. Mrs. Broom was usually easy to read, but the huge grin on her homely face as she beamed up at Richard, all handsomely elegant as usual, defied interpretation.
The sight of an unknown carriage leading her own up the long drive had brought the manor's people running. Maids and stablelads grooms and workmen, all piled into the courtyard, gathering in a loose crowd about the main steps before which Richard's coachman had pulled up.
Richard had descended first; from the shadows of the carriage, Catriona had watched her people's eyes widen, seen the surprise the speculation. She'd waited for the distrust, the defensiveness, ready to combat it-but it hadn't yet appeared.
Leaving one hand in Richard's, she gestured with the other, smiling as, with a wave, she gathered her people's attention, then directed it to Richard. "This is my husband, Mr. Richard Cynster. We were married two days ago."
A wave of excitement, a murmur of clear approval, swept the crowd. Catriona smiled at Richard, then smoothly turned to the old man leaning heavily on a stick beside Mrs. Broom. "Allow me to present McArdle."
The old man bowed, slow and deep; when he straightened, a smile wider than any Catriona could recall wreathed his face.
" 'Tis a pleasure to welcome you to Casphairn Manor, sir."
Smiling back, Richard inclined his head urbanely "It's a pleasure to be here, McArdle."
As if some ritual-one she was unaware of-had been successfully completed, everyone-all those who had served her since birth, all those who were in her care-relaxed and welcomed Richard Cynster into their midst. Utterly bemused, Catriona felt their warm welcome enfold him. He responded; placing her hand on his sleeve, he turned her. With her at his side, he slowly circled the gathering so he could meet all her household.
While making the introductions, Catriona studied her staff-one and all, their response to Richard was genuine. They were, indeed, very pleased to see him, to welcome him as her husband. The more he spoke, the more they smiled and grinned. The more she inwardly frowned.
When they were free to go inside, Richard led her up the steps. They passed Algaria, standing silent and withdrawn at the top. Catriona met her black gaze-and instantly knew what she, at least, was thinking.
But Richard's reaction was not feigned, nor part of any plan; as she'd introduced him to a welcome she hadn't foreseen, she'd sensed-known beyond question-that he hadn't foreseen it, either. He'd been as surprised as she, but quick to respond to her people's invitation.
What had her puzzled was what, precisely, that invitation was-and why it had been issued so readily.
Those questions plagued her all day.
By the time the household gathered for dinner, she was seriously disturbed. There was something happening in her small world that she didn't understand, some force stirring over which she had no control. Which was definitely not how it had been, nor how she liked it.
Made uneasy by something she could not name, she glided into the dining hall. Richard prowled at her heels as he had for most of the afternoon, as she'd shown him about her home. Now his home.
Glancing over her shoulder, Catriona inwardly frowned. The matter of where they would live was something they hadn't actually discussed-she'd simply assumed they would live here. Together. Lady and consort. But she'd assumed wrong on one point-she could be wrong on that issue, too. The thought did not calm her-right now, she needed calm.
Drawing that emotion to her, she smiled at Mrs. Broom and stepped up to the dais. Going to her place at the center of the long table, she graciously waved Richard to the carved chair beside hers. The chair that had stood against the wall, unneeded since her parents' deaths.
Richard held her chair as she sat, then took th