His knowing fingers found her softness, deftly probed, stroked and readied her. It took only one flick to replace his fingers with his throbbing shaft. Gripping her hips, he eased her down, closing his eyes in ecstasy as she slowly slid down and enveloped him.

"That," he stated his voice deep but weak, "is what pleases me the most."

He heard her witchy chuckle, then she rose on him and slid down, clasping him tight again. Sliding his hands about the globes of her derriere, he gripped and helped her rise-and felt the dew spring up beneath his hands as he stroked and caressed.

They settled into their usual slow rhythm; only then did he lift his heavy lids. Small hands braced on his chest, she rode him happily, a serene, definitely witchy, lustfully knowing smile on her lips. Her gaze was fixed on his face, watching, gauging, assessing his response to that ultimate, most intimate caress.

He only just managed to suppress his wolfish grin. He was blessed, and he knew it. "If you really want to please me, one thing you could do is always come to me stark naked, with your hair down." As it currently was, a rich, vibrant corona about her head, rippling fire over her white shoulders and down her slim arms. When he took her from behind, it was like a living veil, sliding sensuously over her back. He loved her hair.

Her eyes glinted; she inclined her head. "Any other requests?"

"Just one. Stop trying to muffle your moans and screams."

She frowned slightly; he smiled winningly and she humphed. "That's all very well for you to say, but it anyone else heard me-well"-she caught his eye and frowned-"it's rather revealing, you know."

He grinned. "I do, indeed, which is why I like to hear them-those little sounds of your appreciation." He gripped her bottom and lifted her high, then thrust deeply into her as he lowered her again. Eyes closing, she bit her lip to hold back a groan. "Like that. They're little sounds of pleasure-and they're precious to me. They're like trophies that I win for pleasuring you." After a moment, he added. "How else do I know if I'm hitting the mark?"

"You always hit the mark," Catriona retorted, her lids still too heavy to lift. "You always pleasure me to oblivion."

"Perhaps-but I like to hear you admit it."

Opening her eyes, Catriona studied his as she continued to move upon him. Then he shifted her, pulling her thighs wider so he could sink more deeply into her, a moan welled in her throat-this time, she let it go. And sensed the real pleasure the sound gave him.

"Very well." Leaning forward, she kissed him, letting their hungry lips feast. As she drew back, eyes closed in concentration as he started moving more powerfully beneath her, she murmured, "I'll try."

It wasn't hard, especially given their location, with no one within miles to hear her screams. But he reveled in her commitment and took advantage to the full.

He garnered a whole swag of trophies that night.

Courtesy of Richard's developing fondness for the amenities of the shepherd's hut, it was mid-afternoon before they reached Algaria's cottage.

She'd seen them coming. She stood in the doorway as they rode up, Catriona just a little in the lead. Algaria met Catriona's gaze, then, deliberately, her hands clasped before her, bowed her head. Turning, she went into the cottage, leaving the door open.

Richard dismounted, then lifted Catriona down. She paused, held between his hands, and met his gaze. "Remember your promise."

He grimaced. "I won't forget. I'm your right arm-your protector. I'll follow your lead." He gestured her toward the house.

Drawing a deep breath, drawing herself up, Catriona led the way inside.

It was a two-room cottage, one up, one down, with the kitchen facilities in a lean-to at the rear, and a small stable against the side. Pausing on the threshold to let her eyes adjust, Catriona scanned the room and saw Algaria standing, hands clasped before her, her head still bowed in the attitude of a penitent, on the other side of the deal table with her back to the cold hearth.

Catriona moved into the room, until she stood at the opposite side of the table, facing Algaria. Richard's shadow blocked the light from the door momentarily, then she sensed his presence at her back.

Lifting one hand, she extended it across the table. "Algaria-"

"As you love me, let me speak." Slowly, Algaria lifted her head. She looked first at Richard, standing silent at Catriona's shoulder, then shifted her black gaze to Catriona's face. "I now know what I did was wrong, but at the time, it seemed right-what The Lady required of me. But rather than you, it was I who made the mistakes in interpreting Her signs. I acted wrongly, and I deeply regret the pain and suffering I caused." She drew breath, her gaze locked on Catriona's, and pressed her hands tightly together. "I ask for your understanding and will abide by your judgment."

Lowering her proud head, she looked down.

Catriona waited a moment, then asked: "What made you realize you were wrong?"

Algaria lifted her head, the glance she bent on Richard was hardly affectionate but contained a respect that had not previously been there. "He lived." She looked at Catriona. "If you knew how much wolfsbane I put in that cup…" She pressed her lips together, flicked Richard another glance, then stated: "Not even your intervention should have been able to save him. Yet he lived. The Lady's intention is clear-she could not have spoken any louder."

Catriona nodded. "As you say. It took him a long time to recover, yet every day longer made his living more remarkable."

Algaria inclined her head and looked down once more. "It is clear The Lady wishes him as your consort-the error of my actions could not be more plain." She lifted her head and met Catriona's gaze levelly. "I am sincerely contrite"-she drew a tight breath-"and ready to accept whatever judgment you make."

"Why?" Catriona asked. "Why did you think it necessary to remove Richard, especially knowing you were acting against my wishes?"

Algaria grimaced. The look she flicked Richard held an element of apology. "Because I believed he was responsible for the fire."

"What?" Catriona felt Richard shift behind her, but true to his word, he held silent. "He was in Carlisle-or riding back-at the time the fire started."

Algaria held up a hand. "Bear with me-I knew that was what we'd been told. However," she paused and drew a deep breath, "if you recall, three days after the fire, we were running low on tansy, and I offered to go and check the patch south of the woods." Catriona nodded; Algaria glanced at Richard. "The patch in the woods always sprouts ahead of the main bed at the manor itself."

Richard inclined his head; Algaria went on: "On that side of the park lives an old man known to us all as Royce. You and he, now I've thought back on it, haven't yet met-he's something of a hermit in winter."

"He's a marvel with animals, particularly with birthing lambs," Catriona put in. "He lives in a small hut on the south side of the park."

"I saw Royce that day when I went looking for the tansy-it was sunny and he was stretching his stiff limbs. He sat on a rock and talked-despite living so alone, he loves to talk to people, so I waited and listened."

"He talked about the fire only in passing-he'd missed all the excitement. He couldn't see the smoke because of the park-he'd only heard about it later. What he did say, however, was that on the day when he came to the manor to fetch bones for broth, while returning home, he saw a stranger-a tall, dark-haired gentleman riding a dark horse. This man rode through the park, but not up to the manor. It was late afternoon, heading into evening-the stranger tethered his horse in the park, took something from his saddle pocket, then skirted the manor itself, and went around behind the forge. He didn't see Royce watching. Royce thought it strange, but…" Algaria grimaced. "He assumed the gentleman was you. Later the gentleman came back, mounted his horse, and rode down the vale-that time, Royce was close enough to see the man had blue eyes." She paused and met Richard's undeniably blue eyes.'