And how, once he caught up with her, would she explain her reckless flight? What excuse could she give for fleeing so precipitously?

Catriona blinked, then, dragging in a breath, slowed the chestnut and wheeled away from the approaching trees. In a smooth arc she curved back into the clearing, the black followed on the chestnut's heels. She slowed to a walk as they neared a section where the trees fell away. Halting, she crossed her hands on the saddlebow; eyes fixed on the white mountains spread before her she breathed deeply, then exhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax. "So exhilarating, a quick gallop in these climes." Her expression one of infinite calmness, she looked over her shoulder. "Don't you find it so?"

Blue, blue 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 suitor of her manifold charms. As they were self effacing, bumbling, and close to helpless, she was forced to rein in her temper-forced to smile tightly rather than annihilate them with a crushing retort, or cut them to ribbons with her saber tongue. Richard noted her simmering-reminiscent of a barely capped volcano-and bided his time.

When they returned to the drawing room, and the tea trolley arrived, no one challenged his suggestion that he take Catriona her cup. As she was, by then, standing stiff and straight, looking out of one of the uncurtained windows, it was doubtful anyone else would have dared. As he strolled up, two cups in his hands, he fixed his gaze, deliberately unreadable, on Algaria O'Rourke's face. Holding fast to her customary position beside Catriona, she returned his stare with a black, unfathomable one of her own.

"Oh, Algaria?"

From behind him, Richard heard Mary call, and saw consternation and indecision infuse Algaria's face.

Halting before her, a pace behind Catriona's back, Richard smiled, all teeth. "I don't bite-at least, not in drawing rooms."

The comment, or perhaps its tone, reached Catriona, she stirred and turned and took the situation in in one glance. Reaching for one of the cups, she grimaced at Algaria. "Oh, go! And you might check on Meg for me."

With one last, warning glance at Richard, Algaria inclined her head and went. Richard watched her retreat, her spine poker-stiff. "Does she bite?"

Catriona nearly choked on her tea. "She's a fully fledged disciple-she was my mentor after my mother died. So beware-she might turn you into a toad if you step too tar over the line."

Richard sipped, then turned and studied her. She was still simmering. "You can rip up at me, if you like."

The glance she shot him suggested she was seriously considering it. "This is all your fault. While they think there's an outside chance-the most distant possibility-they'll feel compelled to make a push to"-she gestured-"interest you in me."

"You could always explain they don't need to make the effort."

Catriona stiffened, she glanced up-and saw the lurking heat in his eyes. She frowned "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop thinking of that kiss in the graveyard."

"Why? It was a very enjoyable kiss, even in a graveyard."

She fought not to wriggle her shoulders, fought not to think of it herself. "It was a mistake."

"So you keep insisting."

"You could end this entire charade, this senseless agony of expectation, by simply stating your mind."

"How can I do that if I don't know it myself?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You know perfectly well you'll return to London in a week's time, unencumbered by a wife." He merely raised his brows, with that irritatingly arrogant confidence that never failed to get her goat. She looked away "You don't want to marry me, any more than I wish to marry you."

Turning his head, he looked down at her; she felt the sudden intensity of his gaze.

"Ah-but I do wish, very much, to bed you, as much, if not more, than you wish me to do so, which might well predispose us to wed."