Page 45 of His Duchess to Remember

He glanced back over his shoulder at her. “Would ye like to do it?”

“No… No, of course not. It is just that… I do not want anyone hurting themselves,” she said bashfully. “You are swinging that hammer awfully close to your fingers.”

“Because that’s where the nail is, love,” he said, and watched as her eyes widened.

He had not meant for the endearment to slip out. Where he came from, it was more of a general endearment, not necessarily reserved for the object of one’s affection. But he could see it had affected her. Indeed, it was a matter of half a second before she looked away sharply, her cheeks flushing a rather charming shade of pink.

Stopping short of a laugh, curious as to whether she had liked the endearment or not, Malcolm turned back to the wood he was piecing together.

The cat house was coming along rather well, if he did say so himself. He had not forgotten how to build things, which was something of a relief, for he had not been entirely sure.

“Will it be big?” Simon asked excitedly.

The boy sat perched on the low stone wall that marked the boundary of the garden where the reflecting pool was situated. He had been fascinated throughout the process, watching his father’s every move, asking a thousand questions.

“Big enough for Missy,” Malcolm replied, using the name his son had decided on for the orange beast.

The indolent feline had ceased being a living scarf and now lay curled up on the sun-warmed stone, right beside Simon.

She really did choose him.

The thought brought a smile to Malcolm’s lips. Cats were not like dogs; cats let a person know when they were not preferred, and would not hang around if they did not like the surroundings or the people therein. They had wise minds of their own, and this cat seemed particularly intelligent, choosing to adore Simon.

“Will she like it?” the boy asked.

“I certainly hope so,” Malcolm replied, as he nailed another slat into place.

They stayed out in the mild afternoon for hours, the shy sunshine peeking out here and there from behind pale clouds. Malcolm had assumed that the other two would get bored eventually, but they did not. Instead, they watched him work, and when Simon did tire, he curled up in his mother’s lap and fell asleep, while Missy fell asleep in his lap.

Meanwhile, Octavia continued to observe Malcolm, though she did not say anything. A few times, he heard her humming a tender lullaby to their son, or a sweet song that she sang softly as he dozed, but she did not ask again if Malcolm was sure he could build a house for the feline.

For the first time since his arrival at Huntfield, he felt as if he truly had a family. The bonds were tentative, fragile as a thread of spider-silk, but they were there.

When the cat house was finally finished, Malcolm looked upon it proudly.

Missy, less so.

The cat slunk out of Simon’s lap, as if she knew the house was meant for her, and suspiciously sniffed the entrance. Her whiskers twitched and her ears flicked as she circled the structure twice. Then, with a wiggle of her tail, she jumped straight up onto the roof of her new abode, stretched out, and went to sleep.

“Well, that wasn’t quite the intention,” Malcolm chuckled, “but it’s yers to do with as ye please.”

He turned at the sound of Octavia’s quiet laughter. “You did say that a wild cat can never truly be tamed.”

“I did, aye.” He smiled at her. “Ye mark my words, as soon as we’ve gone inside, she’ll tuck herself into this house. She just doesn’t want me to ken that she’s grateful.”

Simon stirred and rubbed his eyes, looking at the feline. “Oh, silly Missy! You go inside.”

The cat did not move, quite content to warm herself in the mild sunshine.

“We should leave her to explore her new home,” Octavia suggested. “She might feel shy, with everyone watching her.”

Simon nodded. “But I can see her soon?”

“Oh yes, my darling,” Octavia replied. “You can see her before dinner.”

“What shall we do until then?” Malcolm asked, hope in his voice.

The house might have been finished, but he was not yet ready to give up the comforting feeling of having both his wife and his son near him. It was late afternoon, with at least an hour until dinner would be served; there was time enough for them to do something together, as a trio.