He looked into Catriona's eyes and stated what now seemed obvious. "Through all this farce of his will, Seamus had only one true aim: to ensure your continued safety."

"Hmm." She frowned, then grimaced and looked away.

When she said no more, Richard ruthlessly pressed his point. "By making it widely known he was your guardian, Seamus drew all the approaches to him, leaving you undisturbed. But Jamie is no Seamus-he won't be able to deflect those three from then goal. While Seamus was alive, you were shielded-now he's gone, it'll be open season-on you, and your vale."

She glanced at the letters. "I didn't realize. I didn't know."

"You do know." She looked up; Richard tucked the letters hack in his pocket and trapped her gaze. "You said it the night before last. You need me. You may choose not to acknowledge it consciously but you do know it. You may not accept it but that doesn't alter the reality."

Her eyes flared spitting gold sparks. "You are not my keeper!"

He looked down at her he couldn't help his growl. "Where you're concerned, it the cap fits, I'll wear it."

She glared at him-he gave not an inch. Slowly, her glare faded-she frowned as she studied his eyes.

He studied hers. "Why did you come to my bed?"

Her eyes locked with his, Catriona drew a deep breath. He'd been totally honest-totally open-with her. "Because The Lady willed it."

For one long instant, he stared into her eyes, then his brow rose. "Your Lady told you to come to my bed?"

"Yes." Briefly she explained.

Richard heard her out in silence. In genuine surprise. He'd expected the answer to be loneliness-something he understood, something he'd instinctively recognized in her. Divine intervention was a little harder to assimilate. As was the possessive lust that roared through him at the thought of her heavy with his child.

He was not at all sure how he felt about her reason, but the opportunity was too good not to seize.

"In that case"-he straightened away from the book case-there's obviously no impediment to our marriage on your side."

She frowned at him. "Why do you imagine that?"

Brows high, he met her gaze. "Children. The Lady told you I was to father your children." She stared at him blankly, he elaborated: "Children. Plural. More than one."

She blinked, then her features blanked completely.

"It's a little hard to imagine how you could have a brood of children by me, without the benefit of marriage."

"Twins." She refocused abruptly on his face. "There's twins in your family-Amanda and Amelia."

Richard shook his head. "Their father's a twin, and their mother has twin brothers. Not at all the same as us."

"But…" Catriona stared at him. "The Lady made no mention of marriage."

"The gods don't have such ceremonies-marriage is an institution created by man."

"But…" She'd run out of buts.

He sensed it; he studied her, then said, his voice lower, less forceful-more beguiling: "I meant what I said before-that, if we marry, I won't interfere with your role." He searched her eyes, then his gaze steadied. "I swear always to support you in your position, to defer to you as lady of the vale."

He meant it; it was there in his eyes-a promise of fealty only a warrior could make-and then only to his queen Catriona felt her will swaying, bending… she was losing the battle to remain beyond his reach. And losing it on far too many fronts. More than one part of her mind was urging her to rethink-to accept all he offered.

As perhaps The Lady had intended her to.

Her head, mind and senses were whirling. With an effort, she regrouped-looked down and forced herself to strip aside all the complications of his motives and hers. And get to the heart of the matter.

After a quiet moment, she raised her head and looked him in the eye. "You're not going to let me go, are you?"

He looked straight at her-through blue, blue eyes. "No." She considered him. His face hardened. His gaze locked with hers, he softly added. "And you might like to ponder the fact that if you refuse me and bear my child, I'll have an unassailable legal right to that child."

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.