the time the will
stipulates."
"Very well." Uncrossing his legs, Richard rose. "You may
call on me here, one week from today"—he smiled slightly at the
man—"and I will give you my answer then."
Responding to his manner, the solicitor bowed. "As you wish, sir.
In accordance with the will, the estate will remain in trust until that
time."
Quickly gathering his papers, the solicitor shook hands with Richard,
then with Jamie, stunned anew, then, with a general nod to the rest of them,
quit the library.
The door shut behind him; the click of the latch echoed through the huge
room, through the unnatural stillness. As one, the family turned to stare,
dumbfounded, at Richard, all except Catriona; she was already staring at him,
through ominously narrowed eyes.
Richard smiled, smoothly, easily. "If you'll excuse me, I believe
I'll stretch my legs."
With that, he did so, strolling nonchalantly to the door.
"Don't get your hopes up." Brutally candid, Catriona all but
pushed Jamie into a chair in the parlor, then plopped down on the
chaise
facing him. "Now, concentrate," she admonished him, "and tell me
everything you know of Richard Cynster."
Still dazed, Jamie shrugged. "He's the son of Da''s first
wife—hers, and the man the English government sent up here one time. A duke, he
was—I've forgotten the title, if I ever heard it." He screwed up his face.
"I can't remember much—it was all before I was born. I only know what Da'
let slip now and then."
Catriona restrained her temper with an effort. "Just tell me
everything you
can
remember." She needed to know the enemy. When
Jamie looked blank, she blew out a breath. "All right—questions. Does he
live in London?"
"Aye—he came up from there. His valet said so."
"He has a valet?"
"Aye—a very starchy sort."
"What's his reputation?" Catriona blinked. "No—never
mind." She muttered beneath her breath: "I know more about that than
you." About a man with lips like cool marble, arms that had held her
trapped, and a body… she blinked again. "His family—what do you know of
them? Do they acknowledge him openly?"
"Seemingly." Jamie shrugged. "I recall Da' saying the
Cynsters were a damned powerful lot—military, mostly, a verra old family. They
sent seven to Waterloo—I remember Da' saying as the ton had labelled them
invincible because all seven returned with nary a scratch."
Catriona humphed. "Are they wealthy?"
"Aye—I'd say so."
"Prominent in society?"
"Aye—they're well connected and all tha'. There's this group of
them—" Jamie broke off, coloring.
Catriona narrowed her eyes. "This group of them?"
Jamie shifted "It's nothing as…" His words trailed away.
"As should concern me?" Catriona held his gaze mercilessly.
"Let me be the judge of that. This group?"
She waited; eventually, Jamie capitulated. "Six of them—all
cousins. The ton calls them the Bar Cynster."
"And what does this group do?"
Jamie squirmed. "They have reputations. And nicknames Like Devil,
and Demon, and Lucifer."
"I see. And what nickname is Richard Cynster known by?"
Jamie's lips compressed mulishly, Catriona levelled her gaze at him.
"Scandal."
Catriona's lips thinned. "I might have guessed. And no, you need
not explain how he came by the title."
Jamie looked relieved. "I dinna recall Da' saying much more—other
than they were all right powerful bastards wi' the women, but he would say
that, in the circumstances."
Catriona humphed. Right powerful bastards with women—so, thanks to her
late guardian's misbegotten notions, here she was, faced with a right powerful
bastard who on top of it all, was in truth a bastard. Did that make him more or
less powerful? Somehow, she didn't think the answer was less. She looked at
Jamie. "Seamus said nothing else?"
Jamie shook his head. "Other than that it's only fools think they
can stand against a Cynster."
Right powerful bastards with women
—that, Catriona thought, summed it up. Arms crossed, she paced before
the windows of the
stipulates."
"Very well." Uncrossing his legs, Richard rose. "You may
call on me here, one week from today"—he smiled slightly at the
man—"and I will give you my answer then."
Responding to his manner, the solicitor bowed. "As you wish, sir.
In accordance with the will, the estate will remain in trust until that
time."
Quickly gathering his papers, the solicitor shook hands with Richard,
then with Jamie, stunned anew, then, with a general nod to the rest of them,
quit the library.
The door shut behind him; the click of the latch echoed through the huge
room, through the unnatural stillness. As one, the family turned to stare,
dumbfounded, at Richard, all except Catriona; she was already staring at him,
through ominously narrowed eyes.
Richard smiled, smoothly, easily. "If you'll excuse me, I believe
I'll stretch my legs."
With that, he did so, strolling nonchalantly to the door.
"Don't get your hopes up." Brutally candid, Catriona all but
pushed Jamie into a chair in the parlor, then plopped down on the
chaise
facing him. "Now, concentrate," she admonished him, "and tell me
everything you know of Richard Cynster."
Still dazed, Jamie shrugged. "He's the son of Da''s first
wife—hers, and the man the English government sent up here one time. A duke, he
was—I've forgotten the title, if I ever heard it." He screwed up his face.
"I can't remember much—it was all before I was born. I only know what Da'
let slip now and then."
Catriona restrained her temper with an effort. "Just tell me
everything you
can
remember." She needed to know the enemy. When
Jamie looked blank, she blew out a breath. "All right—questions. Does he
live in London?"
"Aye—he came up from there. His valet said so."
"He has a valet?"
"Aye—a very starchy sort."
"What's his reputation?" Catriona blinked. "No—never
mind." She muttered beneath her breath: "I know more about that than
you." About a man with lips like cool marble, arms that had held her
trapped, and a body… she blinked again. "His family—what do you know of
them? Do they acknowledge him openly?"
"Seemingly." Jamie shrugged. "I recall Da' saying the
Cynsters were a damned powerful lot—military, mostly, a verra old family. They
sent seven to Waterloo—I remember Da' saying as the ton had labelled them
invincible because all seven returned with nary a scratch."
Catriona humphed. "Are they wealthy?"
"Aye—I'd say so."
"Prominent in society?"
"Aye—they're well connected and all tha'. There's this group of
them—" Jamie broke off, coloring.
Catriona narrowed her eyes. "This group of them?"
Jamie shifted "It's nothing as…" His words trailed away.
"As should concern me?" Catriona held his gaze mercilessly.
"Let me be the judge of that. This group?"
She waited; eventually, Jamie capitulated. "Six of them—all
cousins. The ton calls them the Bar Cynster."
"And what does this group do?"
Jamie squirmed. "They have reputations. And nicknames Like Devil,
and Demon, and Lucifer."
"I see. And what nickname is Richard Cynster known by?"
Jamie's lips compressed mulishly, Catriona levelled her gaze at him.
"Scandal."
Catriona's lips thinned. "I might have guessed. And no, you need
not explain how he came by the title."
Jamie looked relieved. "I dinna recall Da' saying much more—other
than they were all right powerful bastards wi' the women, but he would say
that, in the circumstances."
Catriona humphed. Right powerful bastards with women—so, thanks to her
late guardian's misbegotten notions, here she was, faced with a right powerful
bastard who on top of it all, was in truth a bastard. Did that make him more or
less powerful? Somehow, she didn't think the answer was less. She looked at
Jamie. "Seamus said nothing else?"
Jamie shook his head. "Other than that it's only fools think they
can stand against a Cynster."
Right powerful bastards with women
—that, Catriona thought, summed it up. Arms crossed, she paced before
the windows of the
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