Lips compressed, he looked down at her. "Just so you know I generally insist that the ladies I consort with have the good sense not to get under my skin. Some try, I admit, but none succeed. They all stay precisely where I want them-at a safe distance. They don't get into my dreams, interfere with my aspirations, challenge my hopes-or my fears." His eyes narrowed. "You however, are different. You succeeded in getting under my skin without even trying-before I even knew how witchy you were going to be. Now you're there, you're there to stay." His gaze hardened. "I suggest you accustom yourself to your new position."
Catriona held his gaze. "It sounds as if you'd rather I wasn't there-under your skin, as you put it."
He hesitated; a long moment passed before he said, "I'll admit that I'm not certain I approve of our particular closeness-and I definitely don't approve of your initiative. However, the plain truth is, having had you beneath me, I'm not about to let you go." He held her gaze steadily. "It's as simple as that."
Catriona read the truth in his eyes-she frowned and shook her head. "It can't be."
"It can." Blue eyes held hers. "Fate's offered you to me on a silver platter-I'm not about to pass."
A fraught moment ensued. Catriona could feel the sensuality that lay between them, a living, vital thing. It radiated heat, almost seemed to have a will of its own-a dangerously compulsive thing. Her eyes locked with his, she drew in a slow, much needed breath-and tried another tack. "You agreed because you're in a temper."
That, too, she could sense-suppressed rage locked behind his mask. Her own temper flared; she glared at him. "How typically male-you've agreed to marry me, and created goodness knows what legal muddle, all because you're in a foul mood with me over something I've done." She frowned. "I can't imagine what, but it's hardly sufficient reason for creating this much fuss."
He stiffened. "I'm not angry-I'm frustrated. A result, not of something you have done, but of something you've neglected to do."
The words, bitten off, issuing through clenched teeth, held enough force-enough intimidation-to make her step back. The look in his eyes had her pressed against the bookshelves. But she refused to cower-she stared belligerently back at him. "What?"
"You neglected to come to my bed."
The smile he bent upon her reminded her forcibly of Red Riding Hood's wolf. She studied him in growing bewilderment. "You agreed to marry me just because I didn't succumb to your all but legendary charms? Because I wasn't so mindless that I couldn't resist-"
"No!" Richard used the tone he'd most recently used to troops at Waterloo. Thankfully, it worked-it cut her off in mid-tirade; he could see where the tirade was headed. His eyes locked warningly on hers, his lips compressed, jaw set he gripped the bookshelf tightly-and waited. Until he could say in mote reasonable tones. "I meant I was sexually frustrated because I wanted you. I'm the one who can't resist. And no, I don't like it that you can."
She blinked at him, studying his eyes, his face. "Oh."
Richard held her wide, slightly wary gaze-and hung on to his temper, to the illusion of civility that was all that stood between her and an effective demonstration of the strongest argument impelling him to marriage. If he gave into the urge to demonstrate, he'd shock Jamie and company to their toes. "I do hope," he said, and despite the polite form, his tone was savage, "that we're now clear on that point. I want to marry you because I want you as my wife."
Catriona nodded; she didn't need any further explanation of that. His feelings-his need-was reaching her in waves. And helping her cause not at all. Clasping her hands before her, she drew a deep breath-and tried desperately to find a chink, some gap, in the wall he was building around her. "But why have you decided to marry me? You wanted me from the first, but you decided on marriage only recently."
"Because-" Richard stopped and considered her-then shrugged aside caution and continued: "Because you're a damned witch who walks alone. Rides alone. A sweet, helpless witch who has a touching but thoroughly misplaced confidence in the protective capacity of mystical powers." His face hardened. "But you live in a world of men-and with Seamus's death, your protection from them has gone. Evaporated-and, most telling, you don't even realize it. You haven't even recognized the danger."
She frowned. "What danger?"
"The danger posed by your neighbors." Briefly, succinctly, he elaborated-drew the folded letters from his pocket and showed her the demands, and the threats, Seamus had received. "Look at the last one from Dougal Douglas." He waited while she found it "You need to read between the lines, but his message is clear enough."
Catriona read the single sheet, crossed and recrossed, then drew in a tight breath. "He'll bring me to the attention of the authorities-church and state-if I don't marry him?"
She looked up, something close to fear in her eyes.
Richard frowned and reclaimed the letters. "Don't worry. There's a simple way to spike his guns."
"There is?"
"Marry me "
"How will that help?"
"If you marry me, your lands legally become mine, so there's no point pursuing you."
Catriona glanced at the letters in his hand. "What if he does anyway-out of spite?"
"If he does, I can guarantee nothing will come of it"
She looked at his face. "Because you're a Cynster?"
"Precisely." Richard hestitated, then added. "Seamus knew he needed a certain type of man for you-one of the right sort, with the right degree of power." He considered, then grimaced. "A Cynster fitted the bill to perfection, and he had one-me-on a chain. To wit, my mother's necklace. Above all he knew that if you give land to a Cynster, h
e'll never let it go-'To Have and to Hold' still rules us. Which meant you'd be safe-if it were mine, I could never bring myself to sell the vale."