He'd needed her-to provide an anchor for his restless soul, to give him the home and position he'd needed, to be his warrior's cause.
But she'd needed him, too-in more ways than one. He'd recognized from the beginning, and forced her to see, too, that she needed him to protect her and to ease the burdens that were hers through her responsibilities to the vale. What she hadn't seen-couldn't have seen-and what he may not have guessed, was that she needed more than that.
She needed to learn about family-large ruling families-something she and the vale knew nothing about. With Cynsters all around, she'd observed firsthand the enormous positive energy that, as a group, they commanded. They were not really moral, or religious in any way, yet they all, day by day, act by act, served one goal-the family, both their own smaller groups, as well as the larger whole. While their decisions were usually direct and straightforward, down to earth and obvious, they were also far-sighted, always made in the best interests of the family.
From the first, she'd been impressed by the incredible strength of the group, far greater than the sum of its parts. That strength derived from the simple fact that they were all moving in the same direction, all focused on the same ultimate goal.
The Lady's ways were profound.
There'd been no large family at the manor for generations-the lady of the vale had, by custom, only one child, a girl child to take on her mantle. But times were changing-there would be fresh challenges to face, greater challenges. Challenges requiring more than the isolation of the vale to counter them.
Lifting a hand to her breast, Catriona fingered the pendant that hung there-Richard's mother's legacy. Through their marriage, a line older than hers had come into the vale; their child-their first daughter-would be the first of a new line, a greater line, sprung from the merging of the two.
She would be the first of a new family.
Catriona lay still and pondered that fact, while beyond the windows the sun rose. As dawn washed the land, she slipped from Richard's arms and left him softly snoring.
Her revelations were still much in her mind when, later that morning, she repaired to the stillroom.
She'd been there an hour when the door opened and two bright faces looked in.
"May we ask you something?"
Smiling, Catriona waved the twins to stools before the table at which she was working. "How can I help you?"
"We have this burning question," Amanda informed her, wriggling onto the stool.
"We want to know what we should look for in a husband," Amelia stated.
Catriona opened her eyes wide. "That is a big question."
"As you're a healer, we thought you might be able to advise us."
"We're being paraded around at present-you know, so that all the eligible gentlemen can look us over and see if we might suit them."
"But we've decided that that really isn't sensible."
"No. We need to decide if they will suit us."
Catriona couldn't stop her smile.
"Which," Amanda declared, unabashed, "means we have to decide what it is we should be looking for."
Catriona nodded. "I can see that-I have to say you're approaching this in a very clear-headed way."
"We decided that was the only way to approach it-that's why we've come to see you."
"We can't ask Aunt Helena-she's too old."
"And Honoria was married over a year ago. These days, she's, so caught up with being a duchess and taking care of Sebastian, she probably can't remember what she thought was important then."
"And Patience isn't feeling well. And she's rather… absorbed-as if she's thinking of her new baby."
"But we thought you'd know-you're a healer and they always know everything, and you've only just married Richard, so you should be able to remember why you did."
Unarguable logic. Catriona had to laugh. But her laugh was kindly and gentle; inside, she felt deeply touched, humble, and a little awed. She'd been thinking about how she should learn about "family," as if it was something she could study at a distance-and now here were the twins, reminding her that "family" wasn't at a distance, it was here. She was, their blue eyes declared, already one hub in the giant Cynster web, accepted as such, available to answer questions on matters vitally important to the younger generation. That was how families operated.
Drawing in a breath, she eyed the twins, read the earnestness in their eyes. "As I understand your question," she said, looking down at the paste she was mixing, "you want to know, not why I married Richard, so much as what's important to look for in a prospective husband."