Malcolm giggled. “Her name is Cat, not Miss McGregor.”
Essex continued to look across at her with hooded green eyes. “A gentleman does not call a lady by her given name unless she has given him permission to do so.”
“Cat will do so, won’t you, Aunt Cat?” Malcolm dismissed.
“Of course,” she answered stiffly.
Besides, there was no other answer she could give under the circumstances.
“In that case, you must call me Andrew,” he invited softly.
“If Aunt Cat can call you Andrew, might I now call you Uncle Andrew?” Malcolm looked up appealingly with eyes exactly like his mother’s. And his uncle’s too, Cat realized as she looked at the two of them. “After all, the two of you are my only family now.” Malcolm clasped hold of one of each of their hands.
Even with Malcolm between them—or possibly because he was—the moment continued to feel somehow more intimate than Cat was comfortable with when it included Andrew Belgrade.
The harshness of Essex’s expression eased slightly as he looked at the boy. “Only if I might now address you as Malcolm rather than the McGregor?”
Malcolm’s joyful giggles eased some of the tension that had befallen them. “Of course you may,” he assured once he was able to do so.
Cat found herself feeling slightly unsettled at the way in which Malcolm and his uncle were moving so easily into their relationship.
Perhaps because for the past three months, Malcolm had been in her sole charge?
Or because she didn’t trust Andrew Belgrade’s motives?
Either way, she felt a sense of disquiet.
“Aunt Cat says you are traveling to Inverness in the morning. Might we come with you?” Malcolm prompted with his usual candidness.
“No, we may not,” Cat said firmly before Essex had opportunity to respond.
Nor was she fooled for a moment by Malcolm’s guileless expression. That young man knew exactly what he was doing by making the request when his uncle was obviously trying to establish a friendship between the two of them.
Malcolm pouted. “Why not?” There was the beginning of a mutinous expression on his face. “You never take me anywhere, Aunt Cat.”
This moodiness was a recent occurrence in Malcolm’s nature and a direct result, Cat believed, from so suddenly losing both his parents. She had tried to make allowances for that loss without, she believed, overindulging him to the point he might become spoiled.
“Perhaps that is because young gentlemen who make demands do not deserve to go anywhere,” the duke answered Malcolm sternly before she could reply. “From what I have observed, your aunt is more attentive to your needs than she is her own dignity.”
Cat stared at him. No doubt the indulgence he was referring to was the trick they had intended to play on Dougal McGregor earlier, which had gone so horribly wrong when they had succeeded in apprehending this gentleman in Dougal’s stead. A diversion obviously designed to entertain and amuse Malcolm, but which Essex clearly believed to be unsuitable behavior for a widow of two and twenty.
Or perhaps Essex was referring to her less than ladylike appearance now, in the damp dress, with her hair disheveled?
Whatever Essex had meant by it, Cat didn’t welcome the criticism. “I am not refusing the idea of a visit to Inverness to be difficult or to spoil your fun,” she assured Malcolm gently. “We are going to be busy all of tomorrow, if you remember?” They had a prior and unbreakable engagement which she did not consider to be any of Andrew Belgrade’s business.
By rights, he should not even be here, so there was no reason for her to inform him.
“I dinna— Ah. Yes.” Malcolm winced before his brow cleared again. “Perhaps Uncle Andrew would like to attend—”
“I am sure your uncle’s business in Inverness is of far more importance,” Cat cut in firmly.
Tomorrow promised to be an emotional day for all of them, most especially because of the noticeable absence of Hugh and Elena, and Cat would prefer it not take place in the presence of the haughty Duke of Essex.
It was a day they must all endure rather than enjoy. Mrs. Murray had been preparing a feast for days for the occasion, and Dougal McKenna had also brewed barrels of ale and his famous whisky.
Essex studied her for several long seconds before prompting softly. “More important than what…?”
Malcolm puffed up his chest. “Tomorrow is the day the tenants and other members of the McGregor clan all come here to pledge an oath of allegiance to me as their new laird.”
Cat’s heart ached when Malcolm’s youthful bravado slowly dissipated as he obviously thought of the reason that onerous title had now become his.
The same reason she had not wished to remind her nephew of it before he settled down to sleep for the night. Malcolm had been having the occasional nightmare since Hugh and Elena died, and with a full day ahead of them tomorrow, he was going to need a long and untroubled sleep before it.
Andrew easily recognized the pained look upon Malcolm’s face for exactly what it was: a sudden and heartbreaking reminder of grief. He also saw the worried frown that had appeared on Catriona’s creamy brow because of it.
He returned his attention to the small boy in the bed. “If you were sincere in your invitation, then I have no difficulty delaying my trip to Inverness by a day and would be honored to attend your celebrations tomorrow.”
Malcolm brightened a little. “There’s to be a big party during and after the oaths are sworn.”
“Will you be wearing a kilt in your McGregor tartan?” Andrew knew that the clans had been banned from wearing their family tartan in 1746 after losing the Battle of Culloden to the English. A ban which had, thank goodness, been lifted over thirty years ago. Andrew did not believe in taking away a country’s traditions and identity.
Malcolm’s grief seemed to deepen as he nodded. “Mama made it for me.”
“Perhaps, if your uncle has decided to attend the ceremony,” Catriona said lightly, “he might like to wear a
