The impact knocked the air from her lungs, for one instant, she was sure she'd hit a tree. But her nose buried itself in a soft cravat, mid chest, just above the V of a silk waistcoat. His chin passed above her head, her scalp prickled as long hairs were gently brushed. And arms like steel slowly closed about her.

Instinct awoke in a flustered lush, raising her hands, she pushed against his chest.

Her feet slipped, then slid.

She gasped again-and clutched wildly instead of pushing. The steely arms tightened and suddenly only her toes touched the snow. Catriona dragged in a breath-one too shallow to steady her whirling head. Her lungs had seized, her senses skittered wildly, informing her, in breathless detail that she was pressed, breast to thigh, against a man.

Not just any man-one with a body like warm, flexing steel. She had to lean back to look into his face.

Blue blue eyes met hers.

Catriona stilled: she stared. Then she blinked. It took half a second to check-arrogant mien decisive chin-it was he.

Narrowing her eyes, she fixed them on his; if The Lady had made no mistake, then it behooved her to begin as she meant to go on. "Put me down."

She'd learned the knack of commanding obedience at her mother's knee; her simple words held echoes of authority, undertones of compulsion.

He heard them; he angled his head, one black brow rising then the ends of his long lips lifted. "In a minute."

It was her turn to listen and hear the intent in his deep purr. Her eyes flew wide.

"But first…"

If she'd been able to think, she'd have screamed, but the shock of his touch, the intimate warmth of his palm as he framed her face, distracted her. His lips completed the conquest-they swooped, arrogantly confident, and settled over hers.