A creature of magic and moonlight.

A woman, her dark cloak billowing about her, her head bare. Over her shoulders and down her back spread the most glorious mane of thick, rippling, silken hair, sheening copper bright in the moonlight, a beacon against the wintering trees behind her. Her stride was definite, every footfall decisive; her eyes were cast down, but he would have sworn she wasn't watching her steps.

She came on without pause, heading directly for him. He couldn't see her face, or her figure beneath the full cloak, but well-honed instincts rarely lied. His senses stirred, stretched, then focused powerfully-a clear case of lust at first sight. Lips lifting in wolfish anticipation, Richard silently turned and prepared to make the lady's acquaintance.

Catriona strode briskly up the path, lips compressed, a frown knitting her brows. She'd been a disciple of The Lady too long not to know how to couch her requests for clarification; the question she'd asked had been succinct and to the point. She'd asked for the true significance of the man whose face haunted her. The Lady's reply, the words that had formed in her mind, had been brutally concise: He will father your children.

There were not, no matter how she twisted them, very many ways in which to interpret those words.

Which left her with a very large problem. Unprecedented though it might be, The Lady must have made a mistake. This man, whoever he was, was arrogant, ruthless-dominant. She needed a sweet, simple soul, one content to remain quietly supportive while she ruled their roost. She didn't need strength-she needed weakness. There was absolutely no point sending her a warrior without a cause.

Catriona humphed, her breath steamed before her face. Through the clearing wisps, she spied-the very last thing she expected to see-a pair of large, black, highly polished Hessians, directly in her path. She tried to stop, her soles found no grip on the icy path-her momentum sent her skidding on. She tried to flail her arms, they were trapped beneath her cloak. On a gasp, she looked up, just as she collided with the owner of the boots.