Scandal's Bride by Stephanie Laurens Page B

now, she needed calm.
    Calm to deal with Richard Cynster—and calm to deal with herself. And she wasn’t at all sure which would prove more difficult.
    His attitude to family had intrigued her, so she’d tried to draw him out, driven by a compulsive need to know more about him, so she could interpret her visions in a more sensible light. Instead, what she’d learned had made her decision harder still—how could she not respond to a man who desired and actively sought to establish a real family?
    Yet the rest—all she had learned since they’d left the lookout—had only hardened her resolve to resist him. His facade had slipped long enough to confirm her inner view of him—to confirm his emotional motivation. He was, indeed, a warrior without a cause—the cause he searched for, yearned for, was a family to defend and protect.
    Which was all very well, but warriors, especially the hereditary sort, did not hang up their swords in the hall and become simple family men. Far from it. They remained warriors still, to the heart, to the soul.
    And warriors ruled.
    Inwardly she sighed, and saw the house looming ahead. All she had learned had confirmed her in her resistance, while increasing the temptation to give herself to him—to have him as her lord. But first and last, she was the lady of the vale—she couldn’t, simply could not, let him into her life, couldn’t let him think of her as part of his cause, no matter how tempting that might be.
    And tempting it was. Just how tempting she hadn’t understood, not until she’d stood pressed against him under that tree.
    They stepped out of the woods and onto the lawn, spotted white with snow; Algaria followed close behind them. Calmer, more determined, Catriona drew a deep breath; she glanced briefly at Richard’s face, then looked at the house.
    Temptation incarnate was what he was—his attitudes were strongly attractive, his sensuality so compelling he engaged her senses to the exclusion of all else. But his very strength was what stood between them. He was too powerful a personality, too strong a male, to surrender his natural dominance to a wife. A witch-wife at that.
    He was a powerfully attractive, family-oriented gentleman, but he was still a warrior to the core.
    The house rose before them, cold and grey; she felt his gaze on her face.
    â€œYou look pale.”
    She glanced up and realized he thought she was still reeling. She let cool haughtiness infuse her eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
    She looked ahead; from the corner of her eye, she saw his lips twitch.
    â€œIndeed? Perhaps you should take up the local custom of a dram of whiskey before climbing into bed. Jamie tells me the locals all swear by it.”
    Catriona humphed. “They’d swear by any ‘custom’ that means drinking whiskey.”
    He chuckled. “Understandable—it’s good stuff. I hadn’t really appreciated it before. I’m a rabid convert to the local custom.”
    â€œConverts are always the most rabid,” Catriona observed. “But if you really are interested, you should visit the distillery in the valley.”
    They’d reached the side steps; describing the distillery, she led the way inside.

Chapter 5

    â€œA h—Richard?”
    Halfway across the front hall, Richard halted and swiveled—Jamie stood uncertainly in a doorway.
    â€œI . . . ah, wondered if you could spare me a moment of your time?”
    As lunch had concluded half an hour ago, and as his witch had haughtily declined his invitation to find another tree and, nose in the air, hips seductively swaying, retired to her room, he’d been on his way to the billiards room to while away the afternoon, Richard saw no reason not to smoothly incline his head and stroll through the doorway through which Jamie waved him.
    He knew what was coming.
    Jamie didn’t disappoint him.