Stephanie Laurens - Scandals Bride

And very nearly screamed when a dark shadow reached past her, gripped the latch, and lifted it.

Hand to her throat, she whirled-even before she saw him, denser than night at her side, she realized who it must be. "Richard!"

He stilled; she could feel his frown. "What's the matter?"

The door swung wide, revealing her familiar room, lit by flames leaping in the grate. Catriona gazed in and tried to calm her racing heart. "I didn't realize you were there." She stepped over the threshold.

"I'll always be here." He followed her in.

Catriona whirled-her heart raced again as she faced him. And realized what he meant. "Ah… yes. Well…" Airily gesturing, she turned and walked further into the room. "I', just not used to it-having someone there."

Truer words she'd never spoken. That was borne in on her as she walked to the fire, scanning the oh-so-familiar, oh-so comforting furniture, and behind her, heard the latch click. Stopping by the fire, she half turned and glanced at him from beneath her lashes-he was standing just inside the door, studying her.

This was her own private sanctuary. A place he now had the right to enter whenever he chose. Yet another change marriage had wrought-yet another change she would have to accept.

"I… was tired."

He tilted his head, still studying her. "So you said." With that, he started to stroll, prowling about the room. Like some wild male animal assessing his new home.

Pushing the vision from her, Catriona straightened and jettisoned all thoughts of spending a quiet hour or two considering her state. Considering her husband.

She could hardly do that with him prowling so close.

She could barely think with him prowling so close.

His "I'll always be here" was not reassuring.

"Ah…" Eyeing him as he neared, she forced herself to meet his eyes. "We didn't discuss our sleeping arrangements here."

One black brow rose. "What's to discuss?" Reaching her side, he looked down at her, then crouched to tend the blaze.

Looking down at his head, Catriona felt her temper stir. "We could discuss where you'll sleep, for instance."

"I'll sleep with you."

She bit her tongue-and warned herself of the unwisdom of biting off her nose. "Yes, but what I wondered was whether you would like a chamber of your own."

He seemed to consider that, he remained silent as he piled on logs, building a massive blaze. Then he stood; Catriona only just stopped herself from taking a step back.

Richard looked down at her, then scanned the large room. Despite containing a bureau, dresser, dressing table and chairs wardrobe and two chests, as well as the reassuringly massive four poster bed, the room was sparsely furnished. They could share it comfortably and still have room to spare. His traveling case, set against one wall, was barely noticeable.

He looked down, into Catriona's eyes. "Will it bother you if I say no?"

The puzzlement that filled her eyes was impossible to mistake. "No, of course…"

He raised a brow.

"Well… " Abruptly, she glared. "I don't know!"

Unwisely, he grinned.

She slapped him across the chest. "Don't laugh! I've never felt so at sea in my life!"

His grin turned wry. "Why?" Catching her hand, he headed for the bed, towing her, unresisting, behind him.

"I don't know Well… yes, I do. It's you."

Reaching the bed, he turned and sat, pulling her to stand between his thighs. "What about me?"

She frowned at him; holding her gaze, his expression mild and questioning, he set his fingers to the buttons of her carriage dress.

After a long moment, she grimaced. "No-that's not it either."

Frowning absently, she reached for the pin securing his cravat, slipped it free, then slid it into the lapel of his coat. "I'm not sure what it is-just something unsettling-something not quite in its right place." Frowning still, she flicked the ends of his cravat undone, then fell to untwisting the folds.

Richard held his tongue and let her tug his cravat free, then obediently shrugged out of his coat and waistcoat before helping her from her dress. Sitting again, he drew her to him; trapping her between his knees, he started unpicking the laces of her petticoat.

She was still frowning.

"Did my reception surprise you?"

She looked up. He pushed her petticoats down.

"Yes." She met his gaze squarely. "I don't understand it." One hand in his, she stepped from the pile of her skirts. "It was as it you were"-she gestured-"someone they'd been waiting for."

Closing his hands about her waist, Richard drew her back, locking her between his thighs. "That's how they see me, I think."

"But…why?"

For one minute, he kept his gaze on the tiny buttons of her chemise as he slipped them from their moorings. Then he lifted his gaze and met her eyes. "Because I think they fear for you-and thus, indirectly, for themselves. I showed you the letters. I imagine, if you asked, you would discover many of your household have their own suspicions of your neighbors and the threat they pose to the vale."

Looking down, he separated the two halves of her chemise, now open to her waist, and drew the sleeves down. She shivered as the cool air touched her flesh, but lowered her arms and slid them free.

Raising his head, he trapped her gaze. "They see me as a protector-for you, the vale, and them"

Her frown wavered, then she grimaced. "I suppose that's what the consort is supposed to be."

"Indeed." Richard closed his hands over her bare breasts and felt her tremble, heard her indrawn breath. Her lids drifted low, he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, and she shuddered.

"The Lady chose me for you, remember." Drawing her closer, he kissed her, then whispered against her lips "She chose me to be the one to wed you, bed you and get you with child. Chose me to defend and protect you. That's how your people see me-as the one The Lady sent for you."

"Hmmm." Her hands rising to his shoulders, Catriona leaned into the next kiss.

A minute later, he pulled back and urged her on to the bed, divesting himself of his clothes as she slipped between the sheets. Then he joined her, moving immediately over her, spreading her thighs wide and settling between. He fitted himself to her, then, settling heavily upon her, framed her face with both hands and kissed her deeply-as he pressed into her.

He slid fully home, then stopped and lifted his head, breaking their kiss. "I told you I won't undermine your authority." He pressed deeper still, then lowered his head. "Just trust me-it'll all settle into place." In the instant before his lips reclaimed hers, he whispered: "Just like this has."

She couldn't argue with that; as she instinctively eased beneath him, supple and soft as he rode her slowly, deeply, Catriona relaxed, and did as he asked, and put her trust in him.

It wasn't, of course, how she'd imagined things would be. She'd thought to be the assured one, the one to do the reassuring, secure in her position as she eased him into his new role. Instead, the shoe seemed to be on the other foot, with him sliding effortlessly into a role she hadn't known was waiting for him-and having to reassure her of her own.

But here, in their bed, she didn't need reassurance. He'd taught her well, taught her all she needed to know to love him. So she clung to him and gave to him, uncaring of how the future might unfurl.

The future was the province of The Lady, the night-this night-was for them.

Later, much later, in the depths of the night, Richard lay on his back and studied his sleeping wife. His exhausted, sated wife-who had exhausted and sated him. The minutes ticked by as he studied her face, the flawless ivory skin, the wild mane of fire-gold hair.

She was a witch who had bewitched him, he would walk through fire for her, sell his soul and more for her.

And if she couldn't understand that, it didn't really matter, because he couldn't understand it, either.

Sliding deeper into the bed, he gathered her into his arms and felt her warmth sink to his bones. Felt her turn to him in her sleep and curl into his arms.

As his body relaxed, and he drifted into dreams, it occurred to him that few men such as he-strong enough, powerful enough to act as her protector-would agree to wed a witch and then give her free rein.

He had.

He didn't like to think why.

It was almost as if it had been preordained-that The Lady had indeed chosen him for her.

Richard woke the next morning as he had the past two-at dawn, reaching for his wife.

This morning, all he found was cold sheets.

"What…?" Lifting his lids, and his head, he confirmed that the bed beside him was indeed empty. Stifling a curse, he half sat and scanned the room.

There was no sign of Catriona.

Cursing freely, he flung back the covers and stalked to the window. Opening the pane, he pushed back the shutters. Dawn was a glimmer on the distant horizon. Abruptly shutting the window on the morning's chill, he turned back into the room. Scowling ferociously.

"Where the devil has she gone?"

Determined to get an answer, he hauled on buckskin breeches and boots, a warm shirt and a hacking jacket. Tying a kerchief about his throat, his greatcoat over one arm, he strode out of the room.

The front hall and the dining hall were empty; no one was about. Not even a scullery maid clearing the ashes from the huge fireplace in the kitchen. It took him three tries to find the right corridor leading to the back door; finally there, he needed both hands to haul open the heavy oak door-Catriona certainly hadn't gone that way.