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

She was not at all sure she could control him.
    Which, first and last, was the crux of her problem.
    She watched as he set their empty cups on a side table, and wished he’d been forced to keep them in his hands. Hands she’d already spent some time studying; long-fingered, elegantly made, they were the hands of an artist, not a warrior. At least, not a simple warrior. Standing beside him, she was all too aware that her bedevilled senses had reported accurately on the man who had stolen a kiss—several kisses—from her. He was large and strong—not the strength of sheer brawn, but a more supple, skillful strength, infinitely more dangerous. There was intelligence in his eyes, and something else besides—the embers of that hot, prowling hunger glowed behind the blue.
    He straightened. And nodded to the rest of the company. “Is this all Seamus’s family?”
    â€œYes.” She scanned the room’s occupants. “They all live here.”
    â€œAll the time, I understand.”
    â€œThey have little choice. Seamus was a miser in many ways.” She glanced about the room. “You must have noticed the ambience—hopefully, once Jamie and Mary and the others finally realize it’s theirs now, and they no longer need Seamus’s approval for every penny spent, they’ll make it more livable.”
    â€œMore like a home? Amen to that.”
    Surprised by his acuity, Catriona glanced up; his polite mask told her nothing.
    He trapped her gaze. “You clearly didn’t like Seamus. If you won’t consider moving here to live, why have you come?”
    â€œI’m here to pay my final respects.” She considered, then added, more truthfully: “He was a hard man, but he did as he deemed right. He might have been an adversary, but I did respect him.”
    â€œMagnanimous in victory?”
    â€œThere was no battle.”
    â€œThat’s not how the locals tell it.”
    She humphed. “He was misguided—I set him right.”
    â€œMisguided because he wanted you to wed?”
    â€œPrecisely.”
    â€œWhat have you got against the male of the species?”
    How had they got onto this topic? She slanted her tormentor a sharp glance. “Just that—they’re male.”
    â€œA sorry fact, but most women find there are compensations.”
    She humphed again, the sound eloquently disbelieving. “Such as?”
    â€œSuch as . . .”
    His tone registered; she turned and met his eyes—and the glow that danced therein. Her breathing seized; her heartbeat suddenly sounded loud. With an effort, she found breath enough to warn: “No teasing.”
    His lips, untrustworthy things—she tried hard not to focus on them—lifted; his eyes glowed all the more. “A little teasing would do you good.” His voice had dropped to a deep purr, sliding over her senses; Catriona detected the power in the words, although she hadn’t met its like before. It was . . . beguiling; instinctively, she resisted. She felt like she was swaying, but knew she hadn’t moved.
    â€œYou might even find you . . .”—his brows quirked—“enjoy it.”
    Behind her back, screened from the company, his hand rose; Catriona sensed it with every pore of her skin, every nerve in her body. An inch from her silk-encased form, it rose, slowly skimming without touching, until it reached her neckline and rose . . .
    â€œDon’t!” The word was a breathless command; his hand halted, hovering, close, very close, to her quivering curls. If he touched them again . . .
    â€œVery well.”
    A seductive purr, with no hint of contrition; he was being triumphantly magnanimous now. But his hand didn’t disappear—it reversed direction. Slowly, so slowly her skin had ample time to prickle and heat, his hand traced her back, down over her shoulder blades, over the slight indentation