"Meg? Miss Hennessy?"
Both turned in response to his drawl. Meg's eyes fixed on the cups in his hands. "Oh! Ah…" She swallowed, and turned a delicate shade of green. "I… don't think so." She cast a desperate glance at Catriona. "If you'll excuse me?"
With a helpless look at Richard, she hurried across the room and slipped out of the door.
"Well!" Brows high, Richard looked down at the tea. "Is it that bad?"
"Of course not." Catriona relieved him of one cup. "It's just that Meg's increasing and a bit fragile at present. The most unexpected things turn her stomach."
"Is that what you've been so earnestly discussing?"
"Yes."
Richard met Catriona's gaze over the rim of her cup as she sipped; her head barely topped his shoulder, yet her manner proclaimed her belief that she was as powerful, if not more powerful, than he. There was no hint of feminine weakness, or any acknowledgment of susceptibility.
Lowering her cup, she eyed him evenly. "I'm a healer."
The declaration was cool; Richard affected polite surprise. "Oh?" He'd assumed as much, but better she think him an ignorant southerner, a gullible Sassenach, if she were so disposed. "Eye of newt and toe of frog?"
The look she cast him was measuring. "I use herbs and roots, and other lore."
"Do you spend much time hovering over a bubbling cauldron, or is it more like a well-stocked stillroom?"
She drew a tight breath, her gaze on his steadfastly innocent expression, then exhaled. "A stillroom. An encyclopedic one."
"Not a cave, then." Bit by bit, Richard drew her out-and with each factual answer, her fridigity melted a fraction more. He held to his harmless, bantering pose, letting his gaze touch her face only briefly, politely. Her hair drew his eyes more frequently, a magnetic beacon. Even among all the redheads in the room, her crowning glory made her stand out. The soft curls shimmered in the candlelight; those about her face and neck jiggled as she moved, exerting the same mesmeric attraction as dancing flames. They held the promise of heat-Richard felt an overwhelming urge to warm his hands in them.
He blinked and forced himself to look away.
"Naturally, there are some things not available locally, but we send out for them."
"Naturally," he murmured. Shifting so he stood beside her, supposedly scanning the room, he glanced swiftly at her profile. The ice had melted significantly; with her flaming tresses and those gold sparks in her eyes, he felt sure there'd be a volcano beneath. For the first time since joining her, he focused intently on her face. "Your lips taste of roses, did you know?"
She stiffened, but didn't disappoint him; the look she shot him over the rim of her cup held fire, not ice. "I thought you would be gentleman enough to forget that incident entirely. Wipe it from your mind."
There was compulsion in her last words; Richard let it flow past him. He smiled lazily down at her. "You have that twisted. I'm far too much a gentleman to forget that incident, not even its most minor detail."
"No gentleman would mention it."
"How many gentlemen do you know?"
She sniffed. "You shouldn't have grabbed me like that."
"My dear Miss Hennessy! You walked into my arms."
"You shouldn't have held me like that."
"If I hadn't held you, you would have slipped and fallen on your luscious-"
"And you certainly shouldn't have kissed me."
"That was unavoidable."
She blinked. "Unavoidable?"
Richard looked down, into her green eyes. "Utterly." He held her gaze, then raised his brows. "Of course, you didn't have to kiss me back."
Color rose in her cheeks; she looked back at her cup. "A moment of temporary insanity, immediately regretted."