Scandal's Bride by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online Page A

thought."
    With a regal nod, she swept from the room, conscious, to the very last,
of a blue, blue gaze fixed unwaveringly on her back.
    ----

Chapter 3
    « ^ »
    A
few minutes before eleven o'clock the next morning, Catriona made her way to
the library, whence they'd been summoned to hear Seamus's last testament. She'd
breakfasted in her room—because it was warmer there.
    The attempt at self-deception worried her, as did its cause. She'd
breakfasted privately so she wouldn't have to face Richard Cynster and the
power he wielded. Whatever it was. She knew, of course, but she wasn't game to
let herself contemplate it. At all. That way lay confusion.
    A footman stood before the library door; he opened it and she glided
through. And gave thanks that some sensible soul had given orders for the fire
to be built up above its usual meager pile. The cavernous fireplace filled one
end of the monstrous room, the largest in the house, stretching the length of
one entire wing. As the walls were stone and the narrow windows uncurtained,
the room was perpetually chill. She'd dressed appropriately in a dress of blue
merino wool with long fitted sleeves, but was still grateful for the fire.
    Jamie and Mary sat on the
chaise
; the others sat in armchairs
on either side, all the seats arrayed in a semicircle facing the fire and, to
one side, the huge old desk behind which Seamus had habitually sat. Now, a
Perth solicitor sat in Seamus's chair and shuffled papers.
    Subsiding into the one vacant armchair, between Meg and Malcolm,
Catriona returned the solicitor's polite nod, then acknowledged the others
present, only at the very last letting her eyes meet Richard Cynster's.
    He sat on the other side of the
chaise
, beyond Mary, filling a
chair with an indolent grace in stark contrast to the tentative postures of the
other males present. He inclined his head, his expression impassive; Catriona
inclined her head in return and forced her eyes elsewhere.
    One glance had been enough to fill her mind with a vision far more
powerful than the one that had brought her here. He was wearing a blue coat of
a deeper hue than her dress, superbly tailored to hug his broad shoulders. A
blue-and-black striped silk waistcoat covered a snowy white shirt topped by a
beautifully tied cravat. His breeches, of the finest buckskin, clung to long,
powerful thighs far too tightly for her comfort; his boots she already knew.
    She wished him anywhere else but here; she had to fight to keep her eyes
from him. Malcolm, beside her, was not so restrained; slumped in his chair, he
gnawed on one knuckle and stared openly at the lounging elegance opposite.
Catriona suppressed a waspish urge to tell him he'd never measure up, not while
he slouched like that.
    Instead, she breathed deeply, and determinedly settled, drawing calmness
to her with every breath. Hands clasped in her lap, she reminded herself that
she was here by The Lady's orders; perhaps she'd been sent here to meet Richard
Cynster to learn what it was she should avoid.
    Masterful men.
    Denying the urge to glance at one, she fixed her gaze on the solicitor
and willed him to get on with his business. He looked up and blinked, then
owlishly peered at the mantel clock. "Hurrumph! Yes." He glanced
around, clearly counting heads, matching faces against a list before laying it
aside. "Well then, if we're all assembled…?"
    When no one contradicted him, he picked up a long parchment, cleared his
throat, and commenced. "I read the words of our client, Seamus McEnery,
Laird of Keltyhead, as dictated to our clerk on the fifth of September this
year."
    He cleared his throat again, and changed his voice; all understood that
they were now hearing Seamus's words verbatim.
    " 'This, my last will and testament, will not be what any of
you, gathered here at my request, will be expecting. This is my last chance at
influencing things on this earth—to put right what I did wrong, to rectify the
omissions I made. With the hindsight of