Page 52 of A Daring Desire

Cat turned to look at her husband, whose face was aflame, his mortification quite evident by the look of incompetent rage in his eyes. It was certainly true, then. Cat stifled an ill-timed giggle.

The three of them turned to look at her in outrage.

“You think it funny?” Her father stared at her, aghast. “Are you quite mad?”

Cat tried her hardest to arrange her face into something more serious, but the ridiculousness of the situation could not help but tickle one whose rather outrageous sense of humour had frequently plunged her into hot water.

“Oh, my lord,” she said to her husband, her voice trembling with mirth. “Did you really? How v-very bad of you.”

Her husband’s gaze met hers, relief and chagrin and such affection in his eyes as he stared at her.

“I was provoked,” he said ruefully, glancing at her mother and away again as though he could not bear to look her in the eye.

Cat studied him for a long moment, wondering how her tender-hearted mother could possibly have done such a thing. She let out a sigh. “She was kind to you?” she guessed.

Kilbane folded his arms, glowering, and she knew she was right. Her mother had such strong nurturing instincts it would have been impossible for her to not to attempt to help such an angry, broken soul, had she come upon him, and Kilbane had responded predictably by trying to shock her. Cat went to him, resting her hands on his crossed arms and looking up into his face, seeing anger and frustration and shame burning in his eyes.

“How can you bear to look at me, knowing that?” he asked gruffly.

“Because I understand you,” she said simply. “And because I love you.”

He sucked in a breath, raking one hand through his dark hair so the black curls stood all in disorder. “Your father is right. You are mad, you know.”

“We’re well suited,” she said, grinning at him.

“Come along, Lucian,” her mother said, moving decisively towards her father and taking his arm. He looked at her mother in shocked astonishment.

“We are not done here,” he said.

“Yes, my love, we are. Cat is quite right. This is her marriage, her affair, and we must leave her to attend to it as she sees fit.”

“She needs to divorce him!” her father insisted, incensed.

“I won’t,” Cat replied, turning back to him. “I know it is what you think I ought to do, but it was never what I wanted, you know it was not. I’m sorry, Papa. I know I have been a dreadful disappointment to you, and you must think me an ungrateful wretch for all you and Mama have done for me,” she said, her voice quavering but no longer with laughter. Her father shook his head and crossed the room, taking her hands in his.

“No. No, my sweet girl, never that. But I think you have been badly hurt and are putting yourself at far greater risk. If you were to leave him now, when everyone knows you have been estranged, no scandal could cling to you for long.”

“But I love him, Papa, so I cannot do as you ask, and I cannot be happy all the time the two of you are at war.”

“Then I do not know what there is to be done,” her father said, his face grave.

“I think you do,” Mama said, her voice gentle but firm, her blue gaze fixing on her husband’s face, daring him to contradict her. His jaw clenched, but he held his tongue. Satisfied, she turned back to Lord Kilbane. “My lord, I would ask you something.”

Kilbane nodded, his gaze wary. “Go on.”

“You have stayed away for so long, have been so determined to have nothing to do with Catherine, yet now you return to her, and you wish us to believe that you care for her after so many years of denying it.”

He nodded. “I do.”

“How can this be? Why did you return and suddenly decide you cared after all?”

There was no accusation in her mother’s eyes, but there was a frank desire to understand what had happened to cause such a change in him. Cat, too, wished to hear the answer to this, and she turned to study her husband’s face.

“I cared before I came back, more than I realised,” he said, and though the words were awkward, his discomfort at having to speak of his feelings evident, Cat heard the truth in them. “But after Cat took such care of me, after all I had done to hurt her, it became impossible to pretend indifference any longer.”

“But how could you have cared for her before your return when you had no contact with her? For I would have sworn you didn’t care a button for her the day you wed,” her mother replied.

Kilbane hesitated, clearly aggrieved. “She wrote to me, at least twice a week, every week, without fail,” he said reluctantly. “Such… Such ridiculous, funny, irreverent letters and—” He ran a hand through his hair and tsked at the expression on Cat’s face, for she could not help but grin at him. “Yes, I know, you always meant to catch me that way, you knew if you could only find a foothold I would end up at your feet. I think I knew it too, so God knows why I gave in and read the blasted things, but I did, and I was caught. I came to know the extraordinary woman who was my wife through those letters. You beguiled me, you little wretch.”