Scandals Bride (Cynster 3)

With a sickening jolt, Catriona awoke on the third morning after their ordeal had begun.

She'd fallen asleep on her knees by the side of the bed, her arms stretch

ed across Richard. With a start, she jerked upright.

Her heart in her mouth, she stared at his face.

His color was that of one alive, pale, but still with her; she only breathed again after seeing his chest rise shallowly, then fall.

With an immense sigh of relief, she eased back on her knees. He hadn't slipped away from her while she slept.

Thanking The Lady, she struggled to her feet, wincing as cramped muscles protested. She hobbled to a nearby chair and tell into it, her gaze locked on Richard.

He was still held fast by the poison; he still needed her as his anchor.

Catriona sighed, then painfully rose and hobbled to the bellpull. She was going to have to share the watches with others, others she could trust, and put her faith in them to call her the next time he started slipping away.

She couldn't risk falling asleep and leaving him un-watched again.

Courtesy of Mrs. Broom and Cook, she slept the next night through-which was just as well as the morning brought with it a challenge she hadn't expected to face for at least a few more days

"How on earth did they get here this soon?" Standing beside McArdle on the front steps, she watched the huge black travelling carriage drawn by six powerful black horses come rolling up through the park. There was no need for her to see the crest worked in gold on the carriage's doors to guess who was calling.

"They must ha' traveled through the night-no way elsewise they'd be here now." McArdle's gruff tones held a hint of approval. "Must be right powerfully attached to his brother."

That was Catriona's unwelcome conclusion-dealing with Richard's brother was shaping to be a battle, one she didn't know if she had the strength to win. Suppressing the urge to clutch her pendants, she drew herself up; summoning every last weary ounce of her power, she lifted her chin and prepared to make the acquaintance of her brother-in-law.

As it happened, she was to meet her sister-in-law first. A tall, powerful figure uncurled long legs and stepped down from the carriage the instant it halted, but beyond throwing a hard, raking glance about the courtyard, he didn't advance, but turned back to hand a lady from the carriage-he had to lift her as she was quite clearly not about to wait for the steps to be let down.

The instant her feet touched the cobbles she glided forward, her gaze fixed on Catriona The lady was severely but elegantly attired in a warm woolen cloak over a carriage dress of rich brown, chestnut hair escaping from a simple chignon. She was taller than Catriona; her features were fine and presently set in a noncommittal expression. Her gaze was direct, her whole bearing declared she was a lady used to command. Catriona braced as the woman looked down, lifting her hems as she negotiated the steps.

Reaching the lop, she dropped her skirts and looked Catriona directly in the eye. "My poor dear."

The next instant, Catriona was enveloped in a scented embrace.

"How dreadful for you! You must let us help in whatever way we can."

Released, Catriona tried to steady her reeling head.

"Is this your steward?" The lady-presumably Honoria, Duchess of St Ives-smiled kindly at McArdle.

"Yes," Catriona managed. "McArdle."

"A pleasure, Your Grace."

McArdle tried to bend his arthritic spine into a bow of the required degree-Honoria put a hand on his arm. "Oh, no-don't bother. We're family after all."

McArdle shot her a grateful look.

"If you wouldn't mind, my dear…?"

The deep, rumbling resigned tones had the duchess whirling. "Yes, of course. My dear"-she looked at Catriona and gestured to the presence that had followed her up the steps-"Sylvester-Devil to us all."

Holding her calm before her like a shield, Catriona turned, a welcoming smile on her lips-and had to quell an impulse to take a large step back. She was used to Richard and his towering propensities-Devil was worse-about two inches worse.

She blinked into a hard face that was so much like Richard's it made her heart stop, then she looked into his eyes-a lucent green quite unlike Richard's burning blue. In color. The cast of his harsh features, until then severe, eased. As he smiled, she saw the likeness rise again-in the set of the lips, that untrustworthy glint in the eyes. They were, quite clearly, alike in many ways. She blinked again. "Ah…"

Despite his sobriety, his smile held a hint of the devil he must be. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I thought Richard must have lied but he hasn't." With effortless grace, he captured her hand, planted a kiss on her fingertips, then, his other arm having stolen about her shoulders, bent his head and brushed a perfectly chaste, oddly reassuring kiss on her cheek. "Welcome to the family."