Read Online Scandal's Bride by Stephanie Laurens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephanie Laurens
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could feel the heat. It stopped
abruptly; an arrested expression filled her eyes. Then she focused on him.
"I just realized… Seamus only required
you
to agree to
marry
me
, not that
I
agree to marry
you
. He knew I
wouldn't agree; I'm under no compulsion to obey him." She frowned.
"What
did
he imagine he'd achieve?"
Looking down into her upturned face, at her eyes, wide and puzzled, at
her lips, warm and slightly parted, Richard fought down an urge to kiss her.
"I told you—Seamus made a very thorough study of the Cynsters."
"So?" She searched his face, then his eyes.
"So he knew that, if I publically declare I'll wed you, I
will."
Her eyes flew wide, then narrowed to green shards. "That's
ridiculous
!
You can't simply declare we'll wed—
I
have to agree. And I
won't!"
"
If
I decide to have you…"—he kept his words
deliberate, pausing to let the qualification sink in—"I'll have to change
your mind."
"And just how do you imagine doing that?"
The words were flung at him, a challenge, a taunt. Brows slowly rising,
his gaze intent, locked on hers, Richard held her trapped—and raised one hand.
And deliberately caressed the curl quivering by one ear.
Her ice shattered—she gasped, shivered, and stepped back. The blood
drained from her face, then rushed back as she stiffened.
And threw him a sizzling glare. "Forget it!"
She whirled, skirts hissing; spine rigid, she stalked out.
And slammed the door behind her.
----
Chapter 4
« ^ »
That
night, Catriona slept poorly, bedevilled by a vision of a warrior's face.
Forced to view that same vision, in the flesh, over the breakfast table, she
inwardly sniffed and decided to go for a long ride.
Heading upstairs to change, she met Algaria at the top of the stairs.
Algaria's black gaze swept her, then fastened on her face.
"Where are you off to so early?"
"I need some fresh air—how can a place so cold be so stuffy?"
"Hmm." Looking down into the hall, Algaria sniffed
disparagingly. "The atmosphere is certainly less than convivial"—she
shot a shrewd glance at Catriona—"what with this unnecessary
charade."
"Charade?"
"Aye. It's plain as a pikestaff that bastard from below has no real
intention to wed—not you, nor, I'll warrant, any woman." Algaria's face
was set, the lines deeply etched. "It's clear he's a wastrel and just
enjoying himself at our expense. Even Mary holds no hope other than that he'll
eventually decline to be a part of Seamus's wild scheme and go back to London.
She thinks he's making a show of considering the issue out of politeness."
Catriona stiffened. "Indeed?"
Algaria's lips twitched; she patted Catriona's hand. "No need to
take offense—it's what we want, after all." She started down the stairs
"Him to go away and leave you alone."
Catriona stared at the back of Algaria's head; her answering
"Hmm" was supposed to be approving—somehow, a hint of disappointment
crept in. She shut her ears to it, swinging about, she marched purposefully to
her room.
It was the work of a few minutes to don her riding habit, a snugly
fitting jacket and full skirt in jewel green twill. Serviceable, it was not
especially warm; she hunted through the wardrobe for her old fashioned
fur-lined cloak. Her hair was a problem—in the end she braided it and looped
the braids about her head.
"There"! Satisfied her hair would not come loose no matter how
hard she rode, she swung the cloak about her shoulders and headed for the door.
The stables huddled between the main house and the mountain, sheltered
from the incessant winds and, at present, the lightly flurrying snow. The day
was overcast, but the clouds were too light to deter her; she was accustomed to
riding in all weather, whenever her duties called. The views might be grey, but
they were visible; the hovering clouds kept the temperature above freezing.
While the snow on the bare fields was hoof-deep on the paths and tracks, the
cover was less, and none of it was dangerously icy.
All in all, a
abruptly; an arrested expression filled her eyes. Then she focused on him.
"I just realized… Seamus only required
you
to agree to
marry
me
, not that
I
agree to marry
you
. He knew I
wouldn't agree; I'm under no compulsion to obey him." She frowned.
"What
did
he imagine he'd achieve?"
Looking down into her upturned face, at her eyes, wide and puzzled, at
her lips, warm and slightly parted, Richard fought down an urge to kiss her.
"I told you—Seamus made a very thorough study of the Cynsters."
"So?" She searched his face, then his eyes.
"So he knew that, if I publically declare I'll wed you, I
will."
Her eyes flew wide, then narrowed to green shards. "That's
ridiculous
!
You can't simply declare we'll wed—
I
have to agree. And I
won't!"
"
If
I decide to have you…"—he kept his words
deliberate, pausing to let the qualification sink in—"I'll have to change
your mind."
"And just how do you imagine doing that?"
The words were flung at him, a challenge, a taunt. Brows slowly rising,
his gaze intent, locked on hers, Richard held her trapped—and raised one hand.
And deliberately caressed the curl quivering by one ear.
Her ice shattered—she gasped, shivered, and stepped back. The blood
drained from her face, then rushed back as she stiffened.
And threw him a sizzling glare. "Forget it!"
She whirled, skirts hissing; spine rigid, she stalked out.
And slammed the door behind her.
----
Chapter 4
« ^ »
That
night, Catriona slept poorly, bedevilled by a vision of a warrior's face.
Forced to view that same vision, in the flesh, over the breakfast table, she
inwardly sniffed and decided to go for a long ride.
Heading upstairs to change, she met Algaria at the top of the stairs.
Algaria's black gaze swept her, then fastened on her face.
"Where are you off to so early?"
"I need some fresh air—how can a place so cold be so stuffy?"
"Hmm." Looking down into the hall, Algaria sniffed
disparagingly. "The atmosphere is certainly less than convivial"—she
shot a shrewd glance at Catriona—"what with this unnecessary
charade."
"Charade?"
"Aye. It's plain as a pikestaff that bastard from below has no real
intention to wed—not you, nor, I'll warrant, any woman." Algaria's face
was set, the lines deeply etched. "It's clear he's a wastrel and just
enjoying himself at our expense. Even Mary holds no hope other than that he'll
eventually decline to be a part of Seamus's wild scheme and go back to London.
She thinks he's making a show of considering the issue out of politeness."
Catriona stiffened. "Indeed?"
Algaria's lips twitched; she patted Catriona's hand. "No need to
take offense—it's what we want, after all." She started down the stairs
"Him to go away and leave you alone."
Catriona stared at the back of Algaria's head; her answering
"Hmm" was supposed to be approving—somehow, a hint of disappointment
crept in. She shut her ears to it, swinging about, she marched purposefully to
her room.
It was the work of a few minutes to don her riding habit, a snugly
fitting jacket and full skirt in jewel green twill. Serviceable, it was not
especially warm; she hunted through the wardrobe for her old fashioned
fur-lined cloak. Her hair was a problem—in the end she braided it and looped
the braids about her head.
"There"! Satisfied her hair would not come loose no matter how
hard she rode, she swung the cloak about her shoulders and headed for the door.
The stables huddled between the main house and the mountain, sheltered
from the incessant winds and, at present, the lightly flurrying snow. The day
was overcast, but the clouds were too light to deter her; she was accustomed to
riding in all weather, whenever her duties called. The views might be grey, but
they were visible; the hovering clouds kept the temperature above freezing.
While the snow on the bare fields was hoof-deep on the paths and tracks, the
cover was less, and none of it was dangerously icy.
All in all, a
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