Catriona heard the depth of his commitment, not to her but to their unborn child. "You'd take our child from me?"

His gaze didn't waver, she'd read his answer in his eyes before he stated: "I'd claim any child of mine from the arms of The Lady herself, if she sought to keep it from me."

Dragging in an unsteady breath, Catriona straightened-and felt the trap close firmly, tenderly, but tight. The warrior had secured his cause.

"It won't be as bad as I feared." Catriona dragged her brush through her hair and glanced at Algaria in the mirror. Her erstwhile mentor was agitated to the point of panic. "He's promised to support my position, my role, not undermine it. He didn't have to do that."

"Humph! That's what he says now-just wait until he gets you back to the vale. Once you're big with his child, he'll take over!" Pacing, Algaria swung about. "Do you realize he'll have the power to sell the vale?"

"He won't." In stating it, she was sure of it. "He's landless-a bastard-and a Cynster. He's more likely than any other to keep the vale-keep it for his children." Protect it for his children. Inwardly smiling, Catriona wielded her brush vigorously.

Algaria had not been present in the library; expecting to leave within a day, she'd been shocked to learn of the impending wedding. And convinced that Richard must have, using some unspecified and utterly inconceivable power, forced Catriona into accepting.

The only power he'd used was simply who he was-who he really was behind his mask; Catriona had tried to explain that, but Algaria wasn't ready to listen.

"I can't believe you've simply acquiesced!" Halting, Algaria stared at her.

"Believe me, there was nothing simple about it. Our discussions ranged over a gamut of issues."

"Did you discuss his character? The fact he'll want to rule-that he'll need to rule just as much as he'll need to breathe?"

Sighing, Catriona laid down her brush. "I didn't say it would be easy."

"Easy? It's going to be impossible!"

"Algaria." Turning on the stool, Catriona faced her mentor, her second-in-command. "I didn't make the decision lightly. When it came to the point, there were too many convincing reasons why this marriage should be-and few, if any, reasons against." Algaria opened her mouth; Catriona silenced her with an upraised hand. "No-I know about his strength-and so does he. He's vowed to contain it, to use it to support me, not wield it against me." She met Algaria's black gaze steadily "I intend giving him a chance to fulfill that vow. That's a right he's claimed-and one I cannot justifiably deny him. Until such time as he fails-until he breaks that vow-I do not wish to hear any more on the subject."

She waited, but Algaria, pinch lipped, said nothing-she started to pace again. "You could have suggested hand-fasting-at least until he shows his true colors."

"I doubt he'd accept it, and you know that's never been our way."

"Marrying men like him has never been our way, either!"

Catriona sighed and let Algaria's agitation slide past her. She didn't share it, but could understand Algaria's state. In common with all disciples of The Lady, Algaria possessed a deep-seated distrust of dominant men-for good and obvious reasons. It was a distrust she had shared, until she'd met Richard Cynster and felt the attraction a strong man could pose, and seen behind his mask to his vulnerability. Algaria possessed the talent to see behind his mask, too, but it was pointless to suggest that now. Her erstwhile mentor was too repelled by the vision of strength and dominance to stop and look beyond it.

Considering Algaria, she sighed again. "Times change, and we must change, too I'm too wise in life's ways to try to resist its flow-the currents carrying me to his arms are considerable. Many more than one, and powerful-The Lady's will and more." Algaria slowed; Catriona caught her eye. "I won't fight fate-I won't right life. That's not why The Lady put me here."

She held Algaria's black gaze for a moment, then calmly turned back to the mirror and picked up her brush. "I've agreed to marry Richard Cynster before witnesses-we'll be wed as soon as may be." She stroked the brush through her heavy hair, the rhythmic tug on her scalp was soothing. "And then," she murmured, eyes closing, "then, we'll return to the vale."

Tight-lipped, Algaria left her; in a state of unusual mental weariness, Catriona climbed into her bed. The thought of visiting Richard occurred only to be dismissed-she would be his soon enough, and he knew it. Triumphant, he'd been magnanimous in victory-in the drawing room, he'd frowned at her over the teacups and told her to get to bed and get some sleep.

Halfway there, Catriona felt her lips lift. Luckily, no one had been near enough to hear-all the rest of the family had been distracted, struggling to assimilate their "new" state. It was, in fact, their old state-that, perhaps, was one of the positives of the case-that being given their inheritance back, they now viewed it as truly theirs.

Now, hopefully, Mary would get new curtains.

The thought made her smile; she drifted deeper into sleep. More peacefully, more serenely, more reassured than she'd expected.

Things, somehow, would turn out right-so The Lady whispered.

Chapter 1O

They were married by special license, granted by the Bishop of Perth. Three days later, in the kirk in the village, Catriona stood beside Richard Cynster and listened as he vowed to love, honor and protect her. If he did all three, she would be safe; she made her responding vows-to love, honor and obey him-with an open heart.

And felt The Lady's blessing in the shaft of sunshine that broke through the heavy clouds and beamed through the small lose window set high above the altar to bathe them in Her glow.

Richard gathered her in his arms and kissed her-lingeringly. Only when he lifted his head and they turned to walk up the short nave did the sunbeam fade.

By the time they signed the register, then strolled out to the small porch, winter had reclaimed the ascendancy. Clouds laden with snow, grey and churning, stretched from horizon to horizon. A carpet of snow already covered the ground; light flurries whirled on the bitter breeze.

The family followed them to the door, excited and garrulous. Because of Seamus's death, the small private ceremony in the old kirk-all that either she or Richard had wanted-had been agreed to by all. Both the weather and Seamus's death had mitigated against any further revelry. The snows had started in earnest; the passes were slowly filling. Richard and she had been in perfect accord that they should leave immediately after the ceremony, to ensure they weren't snowed in for weeks.

Pausing in the porch, Catriona saw the steamy breaths of their carriage horses rising beyond the lych-gate. She looked up at Richard; he was looking across the graveyard. She followed his gaze-and guessed his thoughts.

"Go!" Lightly, she pushed him. He looked down at her, his mask in place; she ignored it. "Go and say good-bye." She looked inward and afar, then refocused on him. "I don't think either of us will be here again."

He hesitated for an instant more, then nodded and stepped off the porch. She watched him head for a simple grave by the wall, then swung around and gave her attention to Jamie, Meg and the rest,

Halting before his mother's grave, Richard wondered what she would have thought of him marrying Catriona Hennessy. His mother had been from the Lowlands, too; perhaps she would approve. He gazed at the headstone, studied it carefully, letting the vision sink into his mind.

And recalled his thought, when he'd stood here in the moonlight just before he'd first met his witchy wife.

His wife. The words, even unuttered, sent a streak of unnerving sensation through him, powerful enough to shift the very bedrock of his foundations. Sensation and recollection mingled; eyes narrowing, he gazed at his mother's grave and silently made another vow.

To live life fully.

Straightening, he drew a deep breath and turned. And discovered Catriona waiting a yard behind him. She met his eyes, then looked at the grave. Richard gestured her forward, she came to his side.

For a moment, side by side, they looked at the headstone; inwardly, Richard said good bye. Then he took Catriona's gloved hand. "Come. It's freezing."

He drew her away. It was she who, halfway down the path, glanced back, then looked at his face, before shifting her gaze forward to where their party waited in the protection of the lych-gate.

They had two carriages-his and hers. Their leave taking was foreshortened by the increasing snow; within minutes, Richard handed Catriona into his carriage, then followed her in. Jamie shut the door and stepped back. Through the glass, Richard met Jamie's eyes, and, smiling, raised his hand in brief salute. Jamie grinned and saluted back.

"Good-bye!"

"Good luck!"

The carriage lurched; the wedding party, waving madly, fell behind. Sitting back, wrapped in his greatcoat, Richard stretched his legs out and settled his shoulders against the leather seat. Beside him, Catriona flicked out her skirts, then drew her cloak about her. Boots propped on a hot brick wrapped in flannel, she settled her head against the squabs and closed her eyes.

Silence, tinged with expectation, filled the carriage as it rumbled out of the Highlands.

Richard saw no reason to break it-as each mile of white landscape was replaced with the next, his mind was busy listing the various letters he needed to write. The first-a short note to Devil-had already been dispatched, along with Worboys, sent ahead to ensure the comfort of their first night. Informing Devil of his change of status had been easy; informing Helena, Dowager Duchess of St Ives, would be much less so. Aside from anything else, he would need to break his news in such a way that his stepmother did not immediately appear on the manor's doorstep, seeking to welcome Catriona into the Cynster family in the time-honored way. Oh, no-he wanted time-wanted them to have time-to find their own equilibrium.