Scandal's Bride Read Online Free PDF

Seamus McEnery. With no
other avenue available, he studied Seamus's house, his household, his family, for
what insights they could offer of the man.
    A cursory inspection of those he'd met earlier told him little more;
they were, one and all, meek, mild, self-effacing, their very timidity a
comment on Seamus and how he'd reared his children. Miss O'Rourke had an
interesting face, deeply lined and unusually weathered for a gentlewoman's;
Richard didn't need to study it for long to know she distrusted him deeply. The
fact did not perturb him; companions of beautiful ladies generally distrusted
him on sight. Which left—Catriona Hennessy.
    She was, without doubt, the most interesting body in the room. In a gown
of deep lavender silk, with her lustrous locks—neither gold nor plain red, but
true copper—piled high on her head, tendrils escaping to frame her face in flames,
the round neckline of her gown scooped low enough to give a fair indication of
the bounty beneath, her shoulders and arms sweetly turned and encased in skin
like ivory satin, she was a sight designed for lecherous eyes.
    Richard looked his fill. Her face was a delicate oval, with a straight,
little nose and a smooth, wide brow. Her brows and lashes were light brown,
framing eyes of vibrant green—something he hadn't been able to see in the
moonlight, although he did recall how the gold flecks within the green had
flared with indignation. He felt sure they would blaze in anger—and smolder
with passion. Her only less-than-perfect feature was her chin; that, Richard
considered, was a touch too firm, too determined. Too self-willed. She was of
below average height, petite and slender, yet her figure, though sleek and
supple, was not boyish. Indeed not. Her figure made his palms itch.
    Unrestrained by the usual demands of polite dinner conversation, he
surreptitiously let his gaze feast. Only when the desserts were set before them
did he sit back and let his social senses take stock. Only then did he notice
that while the others occasionally exchanged idle glances and the odd desultory
comment, none looked at him, or at Catriona. Indeed, with the sole exception of
the silent but watchful, and disapproving, Miss O'Rourke, they all kept their
gazes carefully averted, as if fearful of drawing his attention. Only Jamie
interacted with either Catriona or himself, and then only stiltedly, when need
arose.
    Curious, Richard tried to catch Malcolm's eye, and failed; the youth
seemed, if anything, to sink further into his chair. Glancing at Catriona,
Richard saw her look up and scan the table; everyone took care not to meet her
gaze. Unperturbed, she patted her lips with her napkin. Richard focused on the
soft pink curves, and remembered, with startling clarity, precisely how they
tasted.
    Shaking aside the memory, he inwardly shook his head. Apparently
Seamus's family were so trenchantly timid, they were moved to treat both
Catriona and himself like potentially dangerous animals who might bite if
provoked.
    Which definitely said something about his witch.
    Maybe she really was a witch?
    That thought provoked others—like what a witch would be like in bed; he
was deep in salacious imaginings when Jamie nervously cleared his throat and
turned to Catriona.
    "Actually, Catriona, I've been thinking that, now Da"s gone
and you'll be my ward, that it really would be better—more fitting, I mean—if
you were to come and live here."
    Caught in the act of swallowing a spoonful of trifle, Catriona stilled,
then swallowed, laid down her spoon, and looked directly at Jamie.
    "With us, the family," he hurried on "It must be very
lonely at the vale all by yourself."
    Catriona's expression grew stern, her green eyes held Jamie's.
"Your father thought the same, if you recall?"
    It was immediately clear everyone at the table, bar Richard, did; a
communal shudder passed around the room, even including the footmen, silent by
the walls.
    "Luckily," Catriona went on, her gaze still