Scandals Bride (Cynster 3)

Richard smiled wearily; he clapped Iron's broad shoulder as he handed over the axe. "Thank The Lady." He turned away. Lifting his head, he saw Catriona waiting-and murmured, "This is what I'm here for."

They gathered in the aftermath in the dining hall. All were weary, but too keyed up to rest; the effect of what they'd faced had yet to leave them.

Richard took his seat by Catriona's side at the main table and gratefully helped himself to the thick stew and fresh bread Cook and her helpers had labored to provide. A thirty-six-course meal at Prinny's Brighton monstrosity could not possibly have tasted better. Or been more appreciated. Conversation was minimal as both men and women ate, children-all safe-balanced in their laps.

It was Henderson who, as empty plates were cleared and maids hurried to place round cheeses on the tables, voiced the common thought.

"Odd thing, that fire."

Huggins, at the near end of one of the other tables, nodded. "Can't see how it started, myself."

They all looked at Richard. Lounging in his chair, pushed back from the table, with one hand idly resting, unconsciously possessive, on the back of Catriona's chair, he returned their gazes steadily. Then he looked around the room. "Does anyone know of any possible cause?"

Heads shook on all sides.

"Never seen anything like it in all my years," McArdle huffed.

"It was all well-seasoned wood-once lit, it would burn. What I can't understand," Richard said, "is how and why it caught alight."

"Aye, there's the mystery." Henderson nodded dourly. "Midwinter-admittedly it's been dry. And that wood was all under shelter. But…"

Richard met his eye. "Precisely. But… something must have touched spark to the tinder."

"Aye, but what?"

It was a question no one could answer. They batted it back and forth, until Richard, glancing at Catriona, caught her straightening, caught her in the act of drawing on her reserves to preserve her outward facade. Noting the dark shadows beneath her eyes, the incipient haggardness in her face, he swore beneath his breath and turned back to the others. "Enough. We're merely speculating. Let's sleep on it and see what tomorrow reveals."

All nodded. Many of the household had already dragged their weary bodies from the hall. Without waiting for the others, Richard placed a hand beneath Catriona's elbow and rose, lifting her to her feet beside him.

She blinked, dazed and weary, up at him; jaw setting, Richard denied the impulse to sweep her up in his arms and instead calmly supported her from the dais and into the front hall. Once out of sight of the others, he slid one arm around her; supporting her against him, he steered her up the stairs.

To their bedchamber. He halted before the door, for the first time in his life, not entirely certain of his footing. His welcome. He glanced down at Catriona; she met his gaze-when he didn't open the door, she frowned.

"What is it?"

The same question he'd asked her-the one she'd refused to answer. Richard held h

er gaze and fought against the compulsion to make the same mistake. "I…" He paused, then went on: "Perhaps I'd better find a bed elsewhere."

The frown in her eyes grew. "Why? This is our room." Her tone was entirely uncomprehending. Before he could say more, she set the door wide, then glided through; fingers clutching his sooty sleeve, she towed him, unresisting, behind her.

He shut the door. "Catriona-"

"Our clothes are ruined." She looked down at her filthy gown, then turned and looked at him. "And we both need a bath. And your hair needs cutting-it's badly singed at the back. Come on."

She tugged; inwardly sighing, Richard acquiesced. Her eyes were still wide, their expression dazed-he knew shock when he saw it, heard it.

He followed her into the small bathing chamber that gave off their room. A welcome surprise awaited them-some kind souls had slipped upstairs while they were discussing the fire and half-filled the large tub with hot water, now cooled to warm, and set metal pails of steaming water in the hearth where the blaze, stoked high, kept them hot.

"Oh." Catriona stopped and stared.

Richard glanced at her face, then drew up a bathing stool to one side of the fire and sat her upon it. Then he picked up a towel, wrapped it around the handle of one pail, and added it to the tub. After adding all the pails but two, he tested the water; it was perfect, hot but not scorching, just right for easing chilled and tired muscles.

Returning to Catriona, he took her hands and drew her to her feet. She immediately started to unbutton his waistcoat. He sighed and shrugged out of his ruined coats. Once she was absorbed with the buttons on his shirt, he reached around her and tugged her laces free. She didn't notice until he loosened the neckline and started to draw her gown down over her arms.

"No." She tried to tug it up again. "You first."

"No," Richard said, calmly, soothingly. "Both together."