Cat and Ewan had only one week together as man and wife before his regiment was recalled to the fighting, and mere weeks later, he was killed at the Battle of Waterloo.
So, yes, Andrew was perfectly correct earlier in referring to her as being a widow, but the truth of it was Cat had barely had chance to be a wife before Ewan was taken from her.
She was certainly nothing like the widows Elena had told her about in London Society. Beautiful and sophisticated women who took advantage of their return to single status by engaging in numerous and discrete affairs. Some women, Elena had told her, behaved in that fashion before their husbands were even dead!
The sort of women Andrew was no doubt accustomed to being with.
None of which Cat could say when poor Esme Munro was still standing white-faced and unmoving in the doorway.
Cat forced a smile to her lips. “I believe we are both finished with dinner, thank you, Mrs. Munro.”
The older woman blinked as if waking from a dream, a frown still marring her brow as she continued to stare at them. “I came to tell ye that Alec Munro is waiting in the parlor to speak with ye.”
Cat’s eyes widened. It was almost ten o’clock at night, far too late for anyone to be calling. Especially so when Alec and the rest of his family would be attending the celebrations tomorrow in order to show their respect for the close ties that had existed for so many years between their two families.
That closeness dictated Cat must now meet with Alec despite the lateness of the hour. “No doubt His Grace would appreciate you bringing him a decanter of brandy, either here or in his bedchamber.” Cat glanced out the window. “Could you also see that a bedchamber is prepared for Alec Munro?” It was full dark outside, making traveling hazardous, and there seemed little point in Alec taking that risk when he would only be returning in the morning.
The housekeeper gave a bob of her head. “Very well, Miss Catriona.” She hurried from the room.
“Cat—”
“Do not speak to me,” she warned Andrew in a shaky voice. “Certainly, do not touch me.” She held her hands up in front of her to ward off any attempt on his part to do so, her gaze avoiding meeting his. “I suggest we forget the events of this evening and, for Malcolm’s sake, begin anew in the morning.” She left the room with the same haste as the housekeeper had seconds previously.
Chapter Six
Andrew watched Catriona’s departure through narrowed lids.
Who the hell was Alec Munro that he arrived so late at night? His arrival seemed to have thoroughly put an end to Catriona and Andrew enjoying kissing each other.
Andrew knew they had both been enjoying it. Catriona’s arms had been up about his neck, her lips had been warm and willing beneath his own, her breasts quickly rising and falling, the softness of her body curving pliantly against his much harder one.
When she pulled away from him after the housekeeper had interrupted them, Catriona’s eyes had been shining with the fever of arousal, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from the heat of their kisses.
Andrew was inwardly seething at having all that loveliness taken away from him.
The fact that the caller had the same surname as Catriona’s dead husband would seem to indicate the man had a connection with that family.
Even so, Andrew knew it was past a reasonable hour for anyone to be calling.
Unless the other man was Catriona’s lover?
Andrew recognized his arrogance now in having earlier described Catriona as being only a widow. She had existed in that state for almost a year now, plenty of time for her to have recovered from her grief and taken a lover.
Or, Andrew realized self-derisively, he could just be jumping to conclusions and this Alec Munro could be seventy years of age with a brood of children and an even larger number of grandchildren. Which would be more than enough reason for Catriona to insist that the man must stay here for the night.
Andrew intended to confirm or deny that either way, along with anything else he needed to know about the other man.
Which he would do once his cock, having remained rock hard and throbbing as he tasted and touched Catriona, had deflated inside his pantaloons enough for him to be in company.
Whether this man Munro was Catriona’s lover or not, Andrew had every intention of expressing his displeasure to Catriona, for having dismissed him so abruptly after the two of them had kissed and then been so rudely interrupted by the housekeeper.
Andrew might not have indulged in a single liaison these past ten years, but in the years previous to that he’d engaged the services of several mistresses amongst the demimonde. Never simultaneously, of course.
But even in those purely physical relationships, he had demanded absolute fidelity and obedience for the duration of their arrangement. The penalty for the lady breaking either of those rules had been swift and painful. Even though he had known that, more often than not, those breaches of their agreement had been deliberately machinated by the woman. No doubt because of the heated arousal those punishments evoked and the rough and pleasurable fucking which followed.
Those previous passions and discreet relationships had become a thing of the past, along with every other extreme in emotions, following his parents’ scandalous behavior, his father’s death, and the need to restore the family name.
But Andrew knew himself to be a deeply sensual person. He now realized, after kissing Catriona, how much he had missed those symbiotic relationships. The give and take, the heat and mutual pleasure. Even now, his palm itched with a desire to spank the deliciously rounded bottom he had minutes ago grasped through the thin material of Catriona’s gown.
Catriona would not be allowed to dismiss him in that way, tonight or any other night.
Andrew wanted her with a depth of passion he didn’t believe
