Scandals Bride (Cynster 3)

Gradually, the clamor about them died, as the family belatedly sensed the clash of wills occurring beneath their noses.

Catriona waited until silence reigned, then, in a cool, clear voice, stated: "I, however, will not marry you."

A shadow passed through his eyes; the planes of his face set. He shifted-the others stepped quickly from between them. He strolled toward her, his stride his customary prowl. While subtly intimidating, there was no overt threat in his approach. He stopped directly before her, looking down at her, still holding her gaze, then he glanced over his shoulder at the others. "If you'll excuse us?"

He waited for no yea or nay, not from them or her; he grasped her hand-before she could blink he was striding down the long room, towing her with him.

Catriona stifled a vitriolic curse; she had to pace quickly to keep up. But she reined in her temper-there was a definite advantage in putting distance between themselves and the rest of the company.

He didn't stop until they reached the other end of the room, hard up against the wall of bookshelves and flanked by two heavy armchairs and a small table. The instant he released her, she swung to face him. "I will not marry you. I've told you why."

"Indeed."

The word was a lethal purr. She blinked and found herself pinned by a stare so hard she literally felt stunned.

"But that was before you came to my bed."

Her world tilted. She could hear her heart thudding in her throat. She blinked again, slowly. And opened her lips on a denial-the look in his eyes, burning blue, changed her mind. She lifted her chin. "You'll never get anyone to believe that."

His brows rose. "Oh?"

To her surprise, he glanced around-Meg's sketchbook and pencil lay on the small table. He picked both up; before her puzzled eyes, he opened the book to a blank page and sketched rapidly, then handed the book to her.

"And just how do you plan explaining how I know about this?"

She stared. He'd sketche

d her birthmark. Her world had already tipped; now it reeled.

He shifted, leaning closer, simultaneously protective and threatening. "I'm sure you can recall the circumstances in which I saw it. You were in my bed, on your knees, totally naked, before me-and I was buried to the hilt in you."

The words, uttered low, forcefully and succinctly, from less than a foot away, battered at her defenses. Catriona felt them weaken, then crack-and felt the emotion, the sensations, all she'd felt at that moment when she'd been in his bed, seep through. And touch her.

It took all her will to shut them out and seal up the break in her shields. She stared, unseeing, at the drawing until she'd regained some degree of calm, then, very slowly, lifted her gaze to his face. "You were awake."

"I was." His face was a mask of hard angles and planes-determination incarnate.

Catriona mentally girded her loins. "Completely awake?"

"Wide awake. I didn't touch the whiskey the second night. Or the third."

She studied his face, his eyes, then grimaced, and looked down.

He waited. When she said nothing more, he straightened, and took the sketch book from her hands. "So"-he nodded toward the others-"shall we go and tell them the news?"

She lifted her head. "I haven't changed my mind."

He looked down at her-then stepped closer, towering over her. "Well, change it."

He took another step; eyes locked on his, Catriona backed. She glanced up the room and saw the others watching. Immediately, she stiffened her spine; switching her gaze back to her tormentor, she halted, raised her hands and pushed against his chest. "Stop that! You're deliberately trying to frighten me."

"I'm not trying to frighten you," he growled through clenched teeth. "I'm trying to intimidate you-there's a difference."

Catriona glowered. "You don't need to intimidate me-just stop and think! You don't want to marry me-you don't want to marry at all. I'm just a woman-just like all the others." She gestured, as if encompassing hordes. "If you just leave, you'll discover I'm like all of the rest of them-you'll forget me within a week."

"Much you know about it."

His tone was contemptuous, his eyes bored into hers. He slapped one hand on the bookshelf by her shoulder, half caging her. Catriona felt the shelves at her back, she stiffened her spine and tilted her chin higher. And kept her eyes locked on his.