Scandals Bride (Cynster 3)

He hesitated, then nodded back and headed for the buffet. After making a selection of the various meats on offer, he returned to the table, to the chair opposite hers. Malcolm, morosely munching toast at the table's other end, and Algaria O'Rourke were the only others down yet.

Catriona's watchdog sat beside her, regarding him with her usual disapproval; Richard ignored her and ate-while watching Catriona do the same. Watched her lick egg yolk from her lower lip, then lick her spoon. Saw her lips sheening pink when she sipped her tea.

He shifted in his seat, looked down at his plate, and tried to remember how to fashion a trap.

"Did you have any disturbing dreams last night?"

He looked up; Catriona smiled at him, her green eyes openly studying him. He waited until her gaze reached his eyes. "No." He held her gaze steadily. "In fact, I don't believe I dreamed anything last night."

Her smile was glorious, as warming as the sun. "Good."

Richard blinked and inw

ardly shook himself. "I was wondering-"

"Catriona?"

All looked up, Mary hovered in the doorway, wringing her hands. "It you've finished, could you see to the children? They're so fractious."

"Of course." Laying her napkin by her plate, Catriona stood. "Are they still feverish?"

She bustled out with not even a last look for him; Richard eyed her departing rear through narrowing eyes.

Turning back to his plate, he returned to his plans-the first item on his agenda was a very long ride.

He rode late into the afternoon, until the light was almost gone. Returning to the house, he ordered a late tea to be eaten in his rooms. Worboys arrived with the tray.

And remained to shake out his greatcoat and put away his gloves. And interrogate him.

"Am I right in assuming we'll be departing on the heels of the solicitor, sir?"

"Hmm," Richard answered around a portion of roast beet.

"I must say," Worboys persisted, "that it's been a most instructive stay. Makes one appreciate the little joys of London."

Sunk in the armchair before the fire, Richard didn't reply.

"I take it we'll be returning to the capital directly? Or do you intend visiting in Leicestershire?"

"I haven't the faintest notion."

Worboys sniffed, clearly disapproving of such aimlessness. He opened the wardrobe door. While he shuffled coats and straightened sleeves, Richard munched steadily, his gaze on the flames.

And pondered the fate of one witch.

Some part of his mind-the Cynster part of his mind-had, from the first moment he'd set eyes on her, been considering making her his. Ever since the reading of the will, he'd been toying with the prospect. Trying to decide, one way or the other, whether he should seize the opportunity Seamus had created, bow to fate and take a wife-or drive away and leave her behind.

Such had been his state before she'd come to his bed.

Now long fingers tightening about the chased goblet, Richard stared at the leaping flames.

"Are you ready to dress for dinner sir?"

Richard looked up, his features set. "I am indeed"

Motive. She had to have some reason for coming to his bed.

Crossing the threshold of the drawing room, Richard instantly located Catriona, and strolled, apparently languid, in reality with fell intent, toward her.