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Authors: Stephanie Laurens
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tug.
"You're
not
seriously considering marrying me."
She made the statement, clear and absolute, to the darkness beyond the
window.
Richard lowered his arm and leaned back against the mantlepiece.
"Aren't I?"
She continued to gaze into the gloaming. "You only claimed the
week's grace because we all took it for granted that you would refuse."
She paused, then added. "You don't like being taken for granted."
Richard felt his brows rise. "Actually, it was because
you
took me for granted. The others don't count."
The swift glance she shot him was scathing. "I might have known
you'd say it was my fault."
"You might have noticed I haven't. You
were
the reason I
so promptly claimed the time, but… on reflection"—his gesture encompassed
the woods through which he'd tramped—"I would have claimed it
anyway."
She frowned. "Why?"
He studied her and wondered if he could ever explain to anyone how he
felt about family. "Let's just say that I've a constitutional dislike of
making rushed decisions, and Seamus laid his plans very carefully. He knew I
wouldn't appreciate being used as a pawn to disenfranchise his family."
Her frown deepened. "Because of being a bastard?"
"No. Because of being a Cynster."
Her frown grew more puzzled. "I don't understand."
Richard grimaced. "Nor do I. I'm not at all clear, for instance, on
why Seamus went to such lengths—such machinations—to get me here, into this
bizarre situation."
She humphed and turned back to the window. "That's because you
didn't know Seamus. He was forever plotting and scheming—like many men of
wealth and position. Indeed, he often spent so much time making plans he never
got around to the execution."
Richard raised his brows. "No wonder my father was sent here."
Catriona looked her question; he met her gaze. "Cynsters are renowned for
action. We might plan, just enough, but our talents lie in the execution. Never
ones to drag our heels."
She humphed softly and turned back to the night. After a moment, she
raised a hand and started drawing spirals on the cold pane. "I was
thinking…" She paused; he could hear the grimace in her voice. "Seamus
may have envisioned marriage to me as a penance—a sort of deferred
punishment—with you paying the price in place of your father."
Richard frowned. "If he thought that, then the joke's on him. It
would be no hardship to be married to you."
She turned her head; their gazes locked—everything else did as well.
Time, their breathing, even their heartbeats. Desire shimmered, filling the
air, heightening senses, tightening nerves.
She drew breath and looked away. "Be that as it may, you
aren't
considering it."
Richard sighed. When would she learn she couldn't sway him with her
tone? "Think what you will. But the solicitor's left and won't be back for
a week. I won't make my decision until then." He wouldn't be rushed, he
wasn't impulsive—and he needed to know more. Of her, and
why
Seamus
had made such an iniquitous will.
She humphed and muttered something; he thought it might have been
"stubborn as a mule."
Pushing away from the mantlepiece, he strolled toward her, his footfalls
muffled by the carpet. As he neared, she whirled, only just suppressing a gasp.
She went to step back—and stopped herself. And tilted her chin instead.
Inwardly, he smiled—she looked deliciously ruffled, and it was he who'd
done the ruffling. "Don't worry, I'm not about to pounce."
The gold flecks in her eyes flared. "I didn't imagine—"
"Yes, you did." He looked down at her, at her too-wide eyes,
at the way her breasts rose and fell. Bringing his eyes back to hers, he
grimaced. "If it eases your mind, as my host's ward and a virtuous, unmarried
lady, you are effectively removed from my list of potential seductees."
He could follow her thoughts easily in her vibrant eyes.
"Ah, no," he murmured, "that doesn't mean you're safe
with me." He smiled. "Just that I won't seduce you without marrying
you."
She glared—at this distance, he
"You're
not
seriously considering marrying me."
She made the statement, clear and absolute, to the darkness beyond the
window.
Richard lowered his arm and leaned back against the mantlepiece.
"Aren't I?"
She continued to gaze into the gloaming. "You only claimed the
week's grace because we all took it for granted that you would refuse."
She paused, then added. "You don't like being taken for granted."
Richard felt his brows rise. "Actually, it was because
you
took me for granted. The others don't count."
The swift glance she shot him was scathing. "I might have known
you'd say it was my fault."
"You might have noticed I haven't. You
were
the reason I
so promptly claimed the time, but… on reflection"—his gesture encompassed
the woods through which he'd tramped—"I would have claimed it
anyway."
She frowned. "Why?"
He studied her and wondered if he could ever explain to anyone how he
felt about family. "Let's just say that I've a constitutional dislike of
making rushed decisions, and Seamus laid his plans very carefully. He knew I
wouldn't appreciate being used as a pawn to disenfranchise his family."
Her frown deepened. "Because of being a bastard?"
"No. Because of being a Cynster."
Her frown grew more puzzled. "I don't understand."
Richard grimaced. "Nor do I. I'm not at all clear, for instance, on
why Seamus went to such lengths—such machinations—to get me here, into this
bizarre situation."
She humphed and turned back to the window. "That's because you
didn't know Seamus. He was forever plotting and scheming—like many men of
wealth and position. Indeed, he often spent so much time making plans he never
got around to the execution."
Richard raised his brows. "No wonder my father was sent here."
Catriona looked her question; he met her gaze. "Cynsters are renowned for
action. We might plan, just enough, but our talents lie in the execution. Never
ones to drag our heels."
She humphed softly and turned back to the night. After a moment, she
raised a hand and started drawing spirals on the cold pane. "I was
thinking…" She paused; he could hear the grimace in her voice. "Seamus
may have envisioned marriage to me as a penance—a sort of deferred
punishment—with you paying the price in place of your father."
Richard frowned. "If he thought that, then the joke's on him. It
would be no hardship to be married to you."
She turned her head; their gazes locked—everything else did as well.
Time, their breathing, even their heartbeats. Desire shimmered, filling the
air, heightening senses, tightening nerves.
She drew breath and looked away. "Be that as it may, you
aren't
considering it."
Richard sighed. When would she learn she couldn't sway him with her
tone? "Think what you will. But the solicitor's left and won't be back for
a week. I won't make my decision until then." He wouldn't be rushed, he
wasn't impulsive—and he needed to know more. Of her, and
why
Seamus
had made such an iniquitous will.
She humphed and muttered something; he thought it might have been
"stubborn as a mule."
Pushing away from the mantlepiece, he strolled toward her, his footfalls
muffled by the carpet. As he neared, she whirled, only just suppressing a gasp.
She went to step back—and stopped herself. And tilted her chin instead.
Inwardly, he smiled—she looked deliciously ruffled, and it was he who'd
done the ruffling. "Don't worry, I'm not about to pounce."
The gold flecks in her eyes flared. "I didn't imagine—"
"Yes, you did." He looked down at her, at her too-wide eyes,
at the way her breasts rose and fell. Bringing his eyes back to hers, he
grimaced. "If it eases your mind, as my host's ward and a virtuous, unmarried
lady, you are effectively removed from my list of potential seductees."
He could follow her thoughts easily in her vibrant eyes.
"Ah, no," he murmured, "that doesn't mean you're safe
with me." He smiled. "Just that I won't seduce you without marrying
you."
She glared—at this distance, he
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