Scandals Bride (Cynster 3)

Algaria's dry, disapproving comment broke the spell; Richard couldn't tell who'd thrown it-Catriona or him. Or some other force entirely.

Catriona glanced at Algaria, then approached the table. "I… ah, overslept."

"You were dead to the world when I looked in."

"Hmm." Without meeting anyone's eye, Catriona served herself a large portion of the kedgeree the butler offered. Instead of her customary tea and toast.

Richard frowned-first at her plate, then at his. And wondered if it was possible for people to share dreams.

It was a horridly dull day, with sleet and snow lashing the house. Denied any chance of a walk to clear her head, Catriona set herself to review the stillroom. Which appeared not to have been reviewed since last she'd visited. The task proved so consuming, she got no chance to devote any sensible thought to the problem she'd seen looming on her horizon.

She hadn't seen it until that morning, when she'd rushed into the breakfast parlor. Not that she could have foreseen it, given she hadn't foreseen the depth of her involvement with Richard.

He who was to father her child.

But she got no chance to think on that, to dwell on how her view of him had changed, and on whether that meant she could, or should, change her plan, or even whether her plan was now safer, or more dangerous.

He'd been confused this morning-and that she hadn't expected. She'd seen it in his eyes as he'd looked at her-a remembrance of the night. Given what had happened, she wasn't surprised; she hadn't expected him to be even partially awake, much less in that peculiar state of a waking dream.

It wasn't, therefore, surprising that he remembered something; his confusion told her he hadn't remembered enough. Enough to be sure it hadn't been a dream.

She was sate, but he was disturbed. She needed to think about that.

"Tie all these up in bunches and hang them properly. And when you've finished with that, you can throw all this away." "All this" was a pile of ancient herbs that had long ago lost their efficacy. Hands on hips, Catriona surveyed the much improved stillroom, then nodded briskly. "We'll make a start on the oils in the morning."

"Yes, ma'am," the housekeeper and two maids chorused.

Catriona left them to their labors and headed back to the family parlor. Her route lay through a labyrinth of corridors giving onto a narrow gallery overlooking the side drive.

The gallery led to the main wing of the house. She'd started along it before she looked up and saw the large figure standing before one of the long windows looking out at the wintry day. He heard her and turned his head, then turned fully, not precisely blocking her path, but giving the impression he would like to.

Head high, Catriona's steps did not falter. But she slowed as she neared him, suddenly aware of a changed presence in the air, of some blatantly sexual reaction. On his part-and on hers.

She stopped a full yard away, not daring to venture closer, unsure just what the sudden searing impulse to touch him might lead her to do. Keeping her expression mild and uninformative, she lifted her chin and raised a questioning brow.

He looked down at her, his expression as unreadable as hers.

And the hot attraction between them grew stronger, more intense.

It stole her breath and fanned heat over her body. Her nipples crinkled tight, she held her ground and prayed he wouldn't notice.

"I wondered," he eventually said, "if you'd like to stroll." His tone made it clear he wanted her alone, some where private so he could investigate what he was feeling. "The conservatory as we have no other choice."

The fact that-even knowing the truth-she actually considered the possibility truly scared her. "Ahh… I think not." Prudence reasserted itself in a rush; Catriona softened her refusal with a smile. "I must tend to Meg-she's unwell."

"Can't Algaria tend Meg?"

His irritation nearly made her grin; his mask was slipping-the warrior was showing. "No-Meg prefers me."

His lips thinned. "So do I."

Catriona couldn't stop her grin. "She's ill-you're not."

"Much you know:" Thrusting his hands in his trouser pockets, he turned and sauntered beside her as she resumed her progress into the main wing.

Catriona shot him a careful glance. "You're not sick."

He raised an arrogant brow. "You can tell just by looking?"