Richard!

Her cry was weak-a demand and a plea.

He shifted back onto his knees with a satisfied groan; the next instant, he smoothed aside the folds of her gown, searching for her hands. Their fingers touched, and locked; he drew her up so she was sitting.

Catriona swung her legs under her so she was kneeling, too-but before she could push her gown down, he whisked it off over her head. Aghast, she watched it float over the end of the bed.

She looked at her tormentor.

Which was a big mistake.

Fully dressed, he was intimidating. Naked, he was mesmerizing. Fascinatingly, mind numbingly male-a potent, powerful presence just waiting to claim her.

In all that had led to this moment, she had steadfastly refused to let her mind form any picture-to imagine how he would look naked, without the civilized cloak he wore when he stalked the world. Dragging in a tight breath, she wondered if imagining might have been better-might have better prepared her to face this.

To her mind, to all her senses, he was magnificent, his long, lean frame covered with taut muscle. The sight of him stirred her powerfully, unfurled some primitive emotion in her.

She gulped, and forced her gaze upward, relieved to see his boyish grin still in place.

"That's better."

While her eyes had been roaming, so had his, with very evident results. He reached for her, she tried to hold back but her knees slid across the sheets. To her surprise, he didn't gather her into his arms, but, sinking back on his ankles, stopped her with her knees against his and eased her back so she was sitting as he was, on her ankles, knees wide.

He grinned, his expression the very essence of male sexual expectation. "Next installment."

Her wits long gone, her senses reeling, she couldn't even summon a frown. "Installment?"

His hands closed over her breasts, confident and firm. His thumbs rubbed her tightly budded nipples, her body came instantly alive. Her lids fell of their own accord as she arched lightly, pressing her breasts into his palms. "What do you mean?"

"I want to see how high you can go-how high I can take you before you shatter."

She struggled to frown, struggled to make sense of his words, and couldn't. Not with his hands on her breasts, then roaming her body, her sides, her thighs, quiveringly tight.

Then he stroked her soft curls, then slid long fingers past to stroke her there, where she was hot and molten. Two fingers pressed in and filled her, then retreated; he circled her entrance, then pressed-and she gasped. His fingers slid away, and played, then returned to the same excruciatingly sensitive spot, and pressed again.

White light flared behind her lids. And suddenly, Catriona understood. She grabbed his wrist-and felt, beneath her fingers, the seductive shift of tendon and muscle as he probed her-slowly, deliberately, evocatively.

She snapped open her eyes and looked at his face. Harsh-edged with passion, the planes were set. Fully aroused, his gaze was locked on where his hand worked between her thighs.

She couldn't believe her senses. "You're teasing me? Like this?"

He looked up and met her gaze. His was still clouded, his eyes like black pools; if anything, the hold of the drugs was deepening. Then he smiled-the same boyish smile. "I've been itching to sink into you since first I set eyes on you-I've been aroused virtually every minute I've spent in your sight. Being around you, especially every time you put your pert nose in the air, has been torture I thought I'd give you a dose of your own magic before I ease my pain." His smile grew soft, distinctly dreamy. "And as for this"- he pressed again; Catriona gasped and swayed-"I plan on teasing you a lot more yet."

"A lot more?" Aghast, she stared at him and tried to think of what he hadn't yet done.

His grin widened. "When I'm inside you. It'll be long and slow-the most perfect torture for a sexy witch."

Catriona simply stared-what had she done? What had she set in train? He was dreaming. He really was dreaming-reality fluidly merging with fantasy. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't realize he was frightening her, pushing her too far. Making her feel far too much. He didn't know she was real.

She was going to lose her mind it he didn't fill her soon. Simply lay her on her back and take her. Quickly. She could feel the passion mounting, bubbling through her veins, exactly as he had predicted. Her inner fires were raging, she was molten with liquid heat. And she needed to release it.

She wanted him-now, immediately, ten minutes ago. It was her own need that was scaring her, not his.

But he didn't know that-and she couldn't explain. She didn't want to beg. Unexpected panic flared within her.

It must have shown in her face, for he frowned. His fingers slowed, and he cocked his head slightly, studying her. He blinked once, twice-confusion was writ plain in his face. "What is it?"

Catriona opened her lips-but no words came out. What should she say? What should she admit to? He was clearly dazed, increasingly hazy-he was operating on instinct. What sort of instinct did a rake have?

Her gaze locked with his, she moistened her lips, suddenly aware of the huge risk she d taken. Algaria had tried to warn her, but she hadn't understood. She wasn't in control of this situation-and neither was he.

Which meant she d thrown herself on the mercy of a rake's true soul, his real, inner self, his true character-and she didn't know what that was.

She was about to find out.

Acting on instinct, she held out her arms to him. "I want you now."

She didn't try to hide the genuineness of her need-her vulnerability. Her only guarantee that she would be safe in so doing was The Lady's insistence that he was the one. Placing her trust in The Lady's judgment, with her arms, with her eyes, she reached for him. "Please."

She didn't see him move, only felt his arms close about her as he gathered her close.

"Sshhh." He held her against him, hot skin to hot skin, and pressed his face into her hair. "I didn't mean to frighten you." His hands stroked her back, soothingly, comfortingly. Cupping her bottom lightly, he shifted against her, his erection riding against her belly. "Put it down to too much imagining. I've been fantasizing for so long about you-how you'd feel"-he slid his hands over her back and hips-"how you'd taste." With his shoulder, he nudged her head up and kissed her-gently, lingeringly-the hunger in him held back, the tangy taste of her still there on his lips and tongue.

Then he raised his head and looked into her face. "I want you in the worst possible way"-he gunned ruefully, boyishness overlaid by passion-"in every way known to man. I want to see you flower for me-spread your legs for me and hold out your arms for me. I want to be inside you more than I want to breathe-I want to feel you rising beneath me as I ride you. And I want to wake and find you beside me-I want to hold you forever." He pressed a kiss to her lips. "I want to care for you forever." Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes. "I want to be your lover in all ways-in every sense of the word, and the deed."

Locked in his dark, cloudy gaze, Catriona could only quiver. He'd seduced her all over again. "Come."

It was she who took his hand, she who lay down upon the bed, spread her thighs wide and held out her arms to him.

And he came to her-the invincible warrior without a cause-devoid, because of her scheming, of his mask, the shield he held up to the world. In that instant, when he'd looked into her eyes and made his declaration, he hadn't been capable of lying. He wanted to love her-and to have her love him. Not just physically but in all ways. He wanted her as part of his life-and wanted to be part of hers. She'd needed no higher powers to read the truth-it had been there, transparent in his unshielded eyes.