Free Scandal's Bride by Stephanie Laurens Page A

eyes met hers. One of his black brows slowly arched.
"You ride like a hoyden."
    His expression remained impassive; she felt sure he intended the remark
as a reprimand. Her giddy senses, however, heard it as a compliment—one from a
man who rode well; it was an effort to keep a silly grin from her lips. She met
his blue gaze with regal assurance. "I ride as I wish."
    Her emphasis was subtle, but he heard it; his brow quirked irritatingly
higher. "Hell for leather, without fear for life or limb?"
    She shrugged as haughtily as she could and returned to surveying the
scenery.
    "Hmm," he murmured. She could feel his gaze on her face.
"I'm beginning to understand Seamus's reasoning."
    "Indeed?" She tried to hold them back, but the words tumbled
out. "And what do you mean by that?"
    "That you've run wild for too long, without anyone to ride rein on
you. You need someone to watch over you for your own protection."
    "I've been managing my life for the past six years without anyone's
help or interference. I haven't needed anyone's protection—why should I need it
now?"
    "Because…" And, quite suddenly, Richard saw it all—why, on his
death, Seamus had trampled on custom to do all he could to put Catriona into
the hands of a strong man, one he knew would protect her. His gaze distant,
fixed unseeing on the white peaks before them, he continued: "As time goes
on, you'll face different threats, ones you've not yet encountered."
    Not yet, because while he'd been alive, Seamus had acted as her
protector, albeit from a distance. They'd found the letters, but how many more
advances had been made directly? And Jamie was no Seamus—he wouldn't be able to
withstand the renewed offers, the guileful entreaties. He'd refer them to
Catriona, and then
she
would have to deal with all the threats from
which Seamus had shielded her.
    That
was why he,
Richard, was here—why Seamus had couched his will as he had.
    Frowning, Richard refocused to discover Catriona studying his face. She
humphed, then haughtily turned away, pert nose in the air. "Don't let me
keep you." With an airy wave, she gestured a dismissal. "I know this
area well—I'm quite capable of finding my own way back."
    Richard swallowed a laugh. "How reassuring." She slanted him a
frowning glance, he responded with a charming smile. "I'm lost."
    Her eyes narrowed as she clearly debated whether she dared call him a
liar. Deciding against it, she shifted from defense to attack. "It's truly
unconscionable of you to raise the family's hopes."
    "By considering whether it's possible to help them?" He raised
his brows haughtily. "It would be
unconscionable
of me to do
otherwise."
    She frowned at him. "They're not your family."
    "No—but they are
a
family, and as such, command my
respect. And my consideration."
    They do
? She didn't
speak them, but the words were clear in her eyes. Richard held her gaze.
"I'd vaguely imagined that families lay at the heart of your doctrine,
too."
    She blinked. "They do."
    "Then shouldn't you be considering what you can do to help them?
They're weaker, less able, than you or I. And none of this is their
doing."
    It was a scramble to get back behind her defenses, she accomplished it
with a frown and a fictitious shiver. "It's cold to be standing." She
looked up. "And there's more snow coming. We'd better return to the
house."
    Richard made no demur as she turned her horse. He brought the black up
alongside the chestnut, then gallantly drew back to amble behind her as she set
the chestnut down a steep track. His gaze locked on her hips, swaying
deliberately, first this way, then that, he spent the descent, not considering
Seamus's family, but the mechanics of releasing them from his iniquitous will.
    The behavior of Seamus's family in the drawing room, and over the dinner
table, tried Catriona's temper sorely. While clearly of the opinion their cause
was hopeless, they nevertheless endeavored to cast her in the most flattering
light, to convince a reluctant