"Aargh!" Dougal Douglas fell to his knees, cradling his broken wrist.
"You fiend!"
Abruptly, Richard found himself thrust aside; hands on her hips, green eyes blazing, Catriona interposed herself between Dougal Douglas and him.
"How dare you?" Green fire and fury poured over Dougal Douglas. "You were once welcomed as a friend of the vale and this is how you repay The Lady's graciousness? You conspire against me and the vale-worse! you attempt to harm my chosen consort-the one The Lady finally sent for me. You're an evil worm-a loathsome toad! I've half a mind to turn you into an eel and leave you here to gasp to death, or better yet, to be picked to death by the birds. That would be a suitable end for you-a just repayment for your unconscionable acts."
She paused for breath; Douglas, on his knees before her, simply stared. "Damn it, ye daft woman-the man's a damned Sassenach!"
"Sassenach? What does that have to do with it? He's a man-far more of one than you'll ever be." She stepped forward; eyes locked on hers, Dougal Douglas cowered back.
Catriona pointed a finger directly at his nose. "Hear me well." Her voice had changed to one of mezmerizing power. "If you ever again act against me, the vale or any of my people-and especially my consort-those jewels you hide beneath your sporran will shrivel, and shrink, until they're the size of apricot kernels. Then they'll fall off. And as for the rest of your apparatus, should you entertain so much as a black thought against any of The Lady's people, it will grow black, too. And wither away. And if you speak ill of anyone from the vale, or even connected with the vale, then for every ill word a boil will grow-on that part of you that has more will than your brain."
She paused for breath; Richard reached out, closed his hands about her shoulders and lifted her aside. Setting her down just behind him, a little to the side, he leaned down so his face was level with hers and whispered: "I think he's got your message. Any more, and he might faint." He glanced at Dougal Douglas, who, aghast and pasty-faced, was watching them both like a trapped rabbit. Richard grinned and turned back to his wife. "Much as I enjoyed your performance, leave the rest to me." He trapped her wide gaze. "It's my job to protect you, remember?"
She humphed, and crossed her arms over her chest, and glowered at Dougal Douglas, but she consented to remain silent and still.
Richard turned back to survey their malefactor. "Might I suggest," he said, "that before my wife further develops her theme, you might care to be on your way?" The relief on Douglas's face was plain; he started to get to his feet. Richard stayed him with one raised finger. "However, do make sure that, henceforth, you stay out of our way, and out of the vale. On pain of The Lady's wrath. Furthermore, just in case you're inclined, once you're well away from here, to forget how potentially violent The Lady can be, you would do well to dwell on this, more mortal threat."
All hint of expression leaching from his face, Richard held Dougals's gaze calmly. "All the details of your recent interference in the vale, all the facts plus witnesses' accounts, will be forwarded to my brother, Devil Cynster, His Grace of St. Ives. Should any inexplicable harm subsequently befall anyone in the Vale of Casphairn, it will be laid at your door. And the Cynsters will come after you." He paused, then added, his voice still even and low: "You should also bear in mind that we've centuries of experience in asking for no permissions, but exacting vengeance swiftly-and looking innocent later."
Exactly which one of them Dougal Douglas found more intimidating would have been hard to say. With a dismissive gesture, Richard waved him away. Cradling his wrist, he stumbled to his feet, then lurched off to catch his horse, which was ambling off down the valley.
Richard heard an odd sound from beside him-something between a snort and a cough, crossed with a disgusted humph. He wondered whether his witchy wife was fixing her curse on Dougal Douglas, but decided he didn't need to know-didn't want to know.
He whistled, and Thunderer came ambling up, heartened by his brisk ride. Turning, Richard saw Algaria trotting up, leading Catriona's mare. Draping an arm about Catriona's shoulders, he steered her to the mare.
"It's a great pity we can't lay charges with the magistrate-but we can't." Catriona stopped and looked up, waiting for Richard to lift her to her saddle.
"Indeed not," Algaria agreed. "The last thing we need is to draw official attention to the vale. But your combined threats should hold him." She regarded Richard with real approval. "That last threat of yours was a masterstroke. No matter what curses Catriona levels, men always understand legal threats best."'
Richard smiled and lifted Catriona to the saddle-and forebore to point out that his threat was not precisely legal-rather the opposite, in tact-a distinction he felt sure Dougal Douglas had understood. But even more to the point, he could attest that Catriona's curses would make any man think twice. Equipment shrinking, then dropping off, turning black, boils-what else she might have dreamed up he hadn't wanted to hear.
The thought made him shudder as he swung up to his saddle, his wife noticed and looked her question-he smiled and shook hi
s head.
Then he clicked the reins, and they headed home-back to the Vale of Casphairn.
Later that night, snug and safe in their bed, soothed and sated and quietly happy, Richard looked down at his wife's red head, comfortably settled on his chest. Raising one hand, he lifted one fiery lock from her cheek. "Tell me," he murmured, careful to keep his voice low so he wouldn't break the spell, "when you were ranting at Dougal Douglas, were you angry on The Lady's behalf, or your own?"
Catriona humphed and wriggled deeper into his arms, pressing herself to him, holding him tightly. "That was the third time I nearly lost you! If you must know, I didn't even think of The Lady. Or her edicts. Although in this case, it's really all the same thing. But just because she issues the directives, that doesn't mean I don't have my own opinions. She sent me to you-you were destined for me. But I agreed to have you. And now you're here and you're mine." She tightened her arms about him. "I'm not letting you go. I want you beside me-and I have no intention of letting anyone interfere, not Sir Olwyn, Dougal Douglas, Algaria, or anyone else!"
Lying back on the pillows, Richard gunned into the dark. After a moment, he murmured: " Incidentally, I'm only half Sassenach. The other halt derives from the Lowlands."
His witchy wife shifted, lifting away from him. "Hmmm… interesting." A moment later, she asked: "Which half?"
A week later, Richard was shaken to life-literally-by his witchy wife.
"Wake up do!"
Obligingly, he reached for her.
"No, no! Not that! We have to get up! Out of bed, I mean."
She illustiated by leaping out from under the warm covers, letting in a blast of icy air.
Richard groaned feelingly and cracked open his lids. He blinked into deep gloom. "By The Lady! It's pitch dark-what the devil's got into you, you daft witch?"