And God only knew what the blacking was like.
"Do you care for some wine?"
Turning his head, Richard saw Catriona lift a decanter. Reaching out, he took it from her and studied the golden liquid within. "What is it?"
"Dandelion wine. We make it ourselves."
"Oh" Richard hesitated, then, inwardly grimacing, poured himself a half glass. He passed the decanter to Mrs. Broom, who had slipped into the seat beside him.
"You must tell me," she said, "what your favorite dishes are." She flashed him a wide smile. "So we can see what we can do to accommodate your tastes."
Richard smiled his slow Cynster smile. "How kind of you. I'll give the matter some thought."
She beamed, then turned aside.
Richard turned back to Catriona, but she was absorbed in her meal. Lifting his wineglass, he sipped. Then blinked. Then sipped again, more slowly, savoring the tart taste, the complexities of the bouquet.
Liquid ambrosia.
Straightening, he set his glass down and picked up his soup spoon. "How much of that wine do you have?"
Catriona shot him a glance. "We make as many casks as we can every summer. But we always have some left year to year."
"What do you do with it? The stuff left over?"
Laying down her spoon, she shrugged. "I expect the old casks are still there, in the cellars. I told you they're extensive-they run all the way beneath the main building."
"You can show me tomorrow." When she looked at him suspiciously, he smiled. "Your cellars sound quite fascinating."
She humphed.
A clanging sounded throughout the large room. All turned to where McArdle stood at the end of the main table. When all had quieted, he raised his goblet high. "I propose a toast-to Casphairn Manor. Long may it thrive. To our lady of the vale-long may she reign. And to our lady's new consort, Mister Richard Cynster-a warm welcome to the vale, Sassenach though he might be."
Laughter greeted that last, McArdle grinned and turned to address Catriona and Richard directly. "To you, my lady-and the consort The Lady has sent you."
Wild cheering and clapping rose throughout the hall, echoing from the stone walls and high rafters. Smiling easily, fingers crooked about the stem of his glass, Richard turned his head and cocked a brow at Catriona.
His question was clear; Catriona hesitated, then nodded. She watched as, with nonchalant grace, Richard rose; cradling his goblet, he lifted it high and said, very simply: "To Casphairn Manor."
All drank, as did he. Lowering his glass, he scanned the room, but did not sit down. After a moment, when all attention was again focused on him, on his commanding figure dominating the main table, he said, his voice low but carrying readily through the room: "I make the same pledge to you, and the vale, that I have already made to your lady." A glance directed their attention to her, then he lifted his head and raised his glass. "As consort to your lady, I will honor the ways of the vale and protect you and the vale from all threats."
He drank off his wine, then lowered his glass as clapping erupted from all sides. Heartfelt, the sound rose and rolled over the room. Richard sat-instinctively, Catriona put out a hand to his sleeve. He looked at her-she met his gaze fleetingly, then smiled and looked away.
And wondered at herself-at what he'd made her feel-all of them feel-in those few brief moments, with those few simple words. Magnetic words-she'd felt the tug herself, seen the effect it had had on her household. Her people were very much his already, and he'd only crossed the threshold mere hours ago.
Through the rest of the meal, Catriona pondered that fact. She steadfastly avoided looking at Algaria, but could feel her black glare. And sense her thoughts.
Nevertheless… she knew, to her bones, that this was how it was meant to be. Quite how their marriage would work out was what she couldn't, at present, see. She'd known Richard for a potent force even before she had met him, which was why she'd believed he was no suitable consort for her. The Lady had deemed otherwise.
Which was all very well but it was she who had to cope with his unsettling presence.
Off-balance, uncertain-in severe need of some quiet and calm-she waited until dessert was being cleared, then set aside her napkin. "I'm afraid the journey must have been more tiring than I thought." She smiled at McArdle. "I'm for bed."
"Of course, of course." He started to rise to draw out her chair, then smiled over her head and subsided.
Catriona felt the chair shift and looked around. Richard stood behind her. She smiled at him, then smiled at Mrs. Broom and the rest of the table. "Goodnight."
The others all nodded and smiled. Richard drew her chair farther back; she slipped past, then glided along behind the other chairs, stepped off the dais, and turned through an archway into the corridor leading to the stairs.
The instant she was out of sight of the dining hall, she frowned and looked down. Pondering her state-the uneasiness, the sense of being off-center that had gripped her the moment she'd stepped over her own threshold, Richard by her side-she absentmindedly trailed through the corridors, through the front hall, and climbed the stairs to the gallery and crossed it to her chamber.
Halting before her chamber door, she focused-to find herself standing in deep shadow. She'd forgotten to pick up a candle from the hall table. Luckily, born in this house, she didn't need to see to find her room. She reached for the door latch-
And very nearly screamed when a dark shadow reached past her, gripped the latch, and lifted it.
Hand to her throat, she whirled-even before she saw him, denser than night at her side, she realized who it must be. "Richard!"
He stilled; she could feel his frown. "What's the matter?"
The door swung wide, revealing her familiar room, lit by flames leaping in the grate. Catriona gazed in and tried to calm her racing heart. "I didn't realize you were there." She stepped over the threshold.
"I'll always be here." He followed her in.
Catriona whirled-her heart raced again as she faced him. And realized what he meant. "Ah… yes. Well…" Airily gesturing, she turned and walked further into the room. "I', just not used to it-having someone there."
Truer words she'd never spoken. That was borne in on her as she walked to the fire, scanning the oh-so-familiar, oh-so comforting furniture, and behind her, heard the latch click. Stopping by the fire, she half turned and glanced at him from beneath her lashes-he was standing just inside the door, studying her.
This was her own private sanctuary. A place he now had the right to enter whenever he chose. Yet another change marriage had wrought-yet another change she would have to accept.
"I… was tired."
He tilted his head, still studying her. "So you said." With that, he started to stroll, prowling about the room. Like some wild male animal assessing his new home.
Pushing the vision from her, Catriona straightened and jettisoned all thoughts of spending a quiet hour or two considering her state. Considering her husband.
She could hardly do that with him prowling so close.
She could barely think with him prowling so close.
His "I'll always be here" was not reassuring.
"Ah…" Eyeing him as he neared, she forced herself to meet his eyes. "We didn't discuss our sleeping arrangements here."
One black brow rose. "What's to discuss?" Reaching her side, he looked down at her, then crouched to tend the blaze.
Looking down at his head, Catriona felt her temper stir. "We could discuss where you'll sleep, for instance."
"I'll sleep with you."