Andrew waited only long enough to see the look of fury deepen on the younger man’s face before he turned and strode from the room. If he stayed there any longer, he might have been tempted to strike the other man for his insulting remarks.
Catriona could not really have taken such a bigoted man as her lover, could she?
Cat was beyond angry by the time she reached her bedchamber. An anger which had not dissipated after she had taken down and brushed her hair, before then undressing, washing, and donning her night rail.
She was incensed as she paced her candlelit bedchamber, far too agitated to get into bed as yet. There was a small fire burning in the hearth, in any case, to take the chill from the room.
She knew Alec Munro had become somewhat protective after Ewan’s death, a natural reaction, she had believed. But having Alec deliberately challenge Andrew Belgrade this evening implied her brother-in-law might have deeper intentions toward her than she had realized. Than she wanted him to have.
Watching Andrew remain unaffected by Alec’s insults before he then demolished every one of them had been exhilarating to listen to, but not the intent behind his words. Andrew hadn’t said so outright but he’d certainly implied he had more right than Alec to champion her and the McGregor estate.
Both men had behaved equally as disgracefully as far as Cat was concerned and she—
“You are more beautiful than I had imagined.”
Cat abruptly ceased her pacing and spun round to face Andrew. Her eyes widened when she saw him standing just inside her bedchamber, a decanter of brandy and two glasses in his hands.
“And where you are concerned, I have discovered I have a very vivid imagination,” he added self-derisively.
The door behind him stood open, meaning that anyone might see him there if they should walk by in the hallway behind him. Alec Munro’s bedchamber was farther down that hallway.
“Ye canna be in here.” Her Scottish accent deepened in her agitation.
“But I already am,” he returned mildly at the same time as he gently kicked the door closed behind him. “Your erstwhile brother-in-law is a pompous arse,” he added as if he were discussing the weather.
Nor could Cat dispute it when it was an accurate description of the way Alec had behaved earlier toward the older man.
The disparity in the two men’s ages and Andrew’s inborn self-confidence and elegance were no doubt parts of the reason for Alec’s confrontational behavior. Alec might now be the heir to the Munro estate, but he was still only one and twenty years old, whereas she knew Andrew to be in his late thirties. Alec had the bluster of a younger man, and she had never seen him dressed in anything other than his work clothes or a kilt for more formal occasions.
Despite their double-edged comments about wine earlier, Cat could not deny, to herself, at least, that she found Andrew’s air of mature self-confidence attractive. An attraction she hadn’t been able to resist earlier.
But that had been downstairs in the relative safety of the dining room, not here in her bedchamber. “You have to leave.”
“Do I?” Andrew placed the glasses down on her dressing table before removing the top of the decanter. He poured brandy into both glasses before crossing the room to hold one of them out to her. “Join me, Cat,” he encouraged huskily.
She eyed him warily as she took possession of the glass.
She’d had no intention of drinking any of its contents until the brushing of her fingers against Andrew’s once again sent that coil of arousal straight to her breasts and core.
A quick swallow of the brandy to restore her sensitive nerves only succeeded in adding to the heat building inside her.
She tried once again to get him to leave. “You cannot be in my bedchamber.”
“We have unfinished business.”
“We do?”
He nodded. “Your housekeeper interrupted us earlier.”
She grimaced her discomfort. “If you are referring to the inappropriateness of our kissing each other, then it is just as well she did so.”
“I cannot agree with you.”
Her frown became pained. “Andrew, please—”
“I like hearing you say my name, little Cat.”
She trembled at how enticing her name sounded on his lips. “You should not call me that.”
“Why not?”
“I— I cannot like you,” she stated stubbornly.
He looked at her over the rim of his glass. “Why not?”
“I— You—you were cruel to Elena.” She grasped onto the obvious reason for her resentment but felt no satisfaction when she saw him flinch.
He straightened. “And I bitterly regret my negligence of her,” he stated sincerely.
“Regrets will not change the fact that is what you did.”
He took the glass from Cat’s shaking fingers and placed it, along with his own, on the dressing table, before turning back to take both her hands in his much larger ones. “I give you my word I will not neglect you.”
She swallowed. “I do not—”
“Nor need you ever doubt I will do everything in my power to ensure your continued health and welfare.”
“I dinna understand…”
“I will take care of you, little Cat.”
Her cheeks suffused with fresh color as she realized he was talking about pregnancy. As if the two of them becoming lovers was a foregone conclusion.
Which it was not.
Was it?
“After you left the parlor just now,” Andrew continued, “Munro warned me against treating you in the same cavalier fashion I no doubt do the loose women I associate with in London.” His hands tightened. “I give you my word there have not been, nor are there, any women, loose or otherwise, with whom I am having carnal relations, in London or anywhere else.”
His expression was so sincere, Cat believed him. “I cannot believe Alec said such a thing to you.”
“I do not lie, Cat.”
She believed that too. Andrew was far too straightforward in his manner, and arrogant enough not to ever have reason to lie. “Was Alec being protective on my
