The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (The Cynster Sisters Duo 2)

Rand leapt in to offer his congratulations, and the others followed suit. There could be little doubt of either their sincerity or their enthusiasm; Ryder sat back and watched Mary laugh, then more freely interact with the four.

And felt an unacknowledged little weight lift from his shoulders.

He’d always stood as protector for the four; for him, for his peace of mind, it was essential that his wife see them in the same light, acknowledging as he did their right to his attention. He would never put them above her, yet equally he would never refuse them whatever aid and succor they required.

It was Stacie who asked, “I take it Mama doesn’t know—about either the attack or your betrothal?”

“Not about the attack—and if you please, do keep that to yourselves. There’s no point bruiting such a piece of information abroad.” He’d given them the most likely explanation for the attack, that some cuckolded—or supposedly cuckolded—husband had thought to remove him from competition for some lady’s favors. “But as to our betrothal, of that Lavinia is already aware, and as for the wider ton, the notice will appear in the Gazette tomorrow.”

“Oh. But then I haven’t really seen Mama for the last two days—I’ve been out with friends.” Stacie turned pensive. “I wonder what invitations I have that will serve to keep me out of the house tomorrow?”

Kit laughed and teased her over not wanting to face their mother; Stacie countered that he and Rand didn’t live under the same roof, so did not have the same pressing need as she and Godfrey to take evasive action.

Rand groaned. “I’ll have to, I’m sure.” He glanced at Ryder. “She’ll want to haul me over the coals for not getting leg-shackled myself.”

“You and me, both,” Kit replied. “Godfrey, at least, is too young—you’ll escape the repercussions, pup.”

Ryder caught the faintly puzzled glance Mary threw him and almost imperceptibly nodded, indicating that he would explain later.

Predictably, Stacie had questions about everything—about when they’d first met, why they’d decided they would suit, and when he’d proposed—and, of course, how; while his brothers did not have quite the same focus, they were curious, too, but Mary proved as nimble as he in skirting those issues they did not wish to air. She then turned the questioning back on his siblings, exploiting her soon-to-be position to learn more about them.

Somewhat to Ryder’s surprise, his half sister and half brothers responded readily to her interrogation and were soon treating her with the same openness they accorded him. As the comments, quips, and questions swirled, and Mary—closer to his half siblings’ ages than he—all but became one of them, he smiled and relaxed, too.

His immediate family—this family—had never been stable, had never had the firm foundation and solidity of the Cynsters, an unshakeable base he suspected Mary and her cousins took for granted; they’d never known anything else.

Such rock-solid cohesion, based on loyalty and devotion and unquestioned trust, was something he’d yearned for from his earliest years. As he’d grown, that yearning had grown with him, melding into and coloring his view of his ideal future.

He’d known he could never have that sort of family—could never build his own Cavanaugh version of it—without the right wife. Without a wife who innately understood all that family could and should mean. Who understood how, at base, such a family worked.

Mary possessed that inherent understanding.

Even though she’d picked up the oddity and strain of his relationship with Lavinia, and had realized, he was sure, that it impacted on his half siblings, too, she’d already reached out to the four, was already—before his very eyes—making the sort of interconnections he’d hoped she would.

As the minutes rolled by and those burgeoning connections only deepened and grew stronger, as the laughter—more laughter than this house had heard in many a long year—rolled through the room, he wished it didn’t have to end so soon. Turning to Rand, under cover of one of Kit’s tall tales, he asked, “I’m not going out, so will be dining early. Can you stay?”

“Yes—of course.” Rand glanced at Mary, then looked at Ryder.

He nodded, and when Kit concluded his tale, Ryder put the notion of a shared early dinner—“a family dinner”—to a vote. His other half siblings instantly agreed.

Ryder turned to Mary. “We would count ourselves honored if you would stay and dine with us.” Capturing her hand, he raised it to his lips, his eyes on hers brushed a kiss to her fingertips. “Please do.”

Muted catcalls came from Kit and Godfrey.

Mary ignored them and smiled into his eyes. “Thank you. I would be delighted to join you”—she glanced at the others—“and the rest of your family.”

Ryder grinned. “Excellent.” Retaining his hold on her hand, he glanced at Rand. “Ring for Pemberly, Rand—” He broke off as the front doorbell rang again. He arched his brows. “Now who?”

Along with the others, Mary looked toward the door.

Pemberly entered to announce, “Mr. and Mrs. Simon Cynster, Miss Henrietta Cynster, and Mr. James Glossup, my lord.”

Mary rose with the others; she stood beside Ryder as her brother, sister, sister-in-law, and soon-to-be brother-in-law walked in. Stepping forward, she greeted them and made the introductions.

Congratulations and the inevitable quips flowed once again. For several minutes as the two groups merged, greetings and comments, exclamations and explanations wrapped the company in a pleasant hubbub.

Eventually leaving Simon and James chatting with Ryder and his half siblings, Mary turned to Portia and Henrietta.

Henrietta said, “Mama wasn’t sure what you were planning for the evening. As we’d just returned and heard your news, we offered to come and either bring you home with us, or else take home word of your plans.”