Wild (Regency Scandal 2), Carole Mortimer [novels for teenagers .TXT] 📗

chosen not to open and read so did not know the content of. After that first year, he had received a letter every Christmas, until last year. With no response forthcoming from him in the previous four years, his sister’s letters had ceased altogether.

He closed his eyes briefly before responding. “I—”

“There’s cake if you would like it, Malcolm.” The beautiful Catriona McGregor cut firmly into what Andrew had been about to say.

He eyed her curiously as Malcolm, totally distracted, as he was no doubt meant to be, now hurried over to the tea tray to help himself to a slice of fruit cake.

Andrew realized, from the frowning glances being given to him by Catriona McGregor, that for some reason that young lady had not told her nephew she had written to his uncle, the Duke of Essex, and it was the reason for Andrew now being here.

Did that also mean Malcolm had no idea he was now the duke’s ward?

Andrew’s jaw tightened. “You may call me Essex,” he bit out tersely.

Malcolm emptied his mouth of cake before answering. “That’s a strange name.”

“Because it is my title rather than my name,” he explained patiently, having already ascertained that Malcolm McGregor was irrepressible.

“What’s your real name, then?” Malcolm demanded before taking another huge bite of cake.

“That is my real name,” Andrew answered patiently. “But my full name is Andrew Belgrade, the Duke of Essex.”

Malcolm nodded sagely. “But you prefer to be called Essex as I am now sometimes called the McGregor, or Invergorden.”

“It isn’t a case of preferring or not preferring, Essex is simply my given title,” he bit out stiffly.

Malcolm’s brow creased in thought before clearing again. “I like Andrew better.”

“It is not acceptable for you to address a peer so informally,” he stated firmly.

“But—”

“I am Essex,” he insisted with a frowning glance toward the silent Catriona McGregor.

Rather than chastising her nephew for his forwardness the manner in which Miss McGregor was now biting her top lip between her teeth said she found Andrew’s discomfort at being challenged by a precocious four-year-old highly amusing.

Andrew didn’t share that amusement.

Her expression sobered as she no doubt saw that lack of humor in his demeanor. “Malcolm, why don’t you go to the kitchen and ask Mrs. Murray if she has more cake?” she encouraged lightly. “Tell her I said you might have some.”

Malcolm’s face lit with pleasure. “Thanks, Aunt Cat!” He ran from the room without so much as a glance in Andrew’s direction, let alone asking permission to leave the room.

“He has no idea, does he?”

Cat’s expression sobered as she turned from watching her nephew’s excited departure to meet Andrew Belgrade’s penetrating gaze. “No idea of what, Your Grace?”

His jaw tightened at her dismissive tone. Even calling him by his title sounded mocking. “That he is now my ward and I am come to Scotland for the sole purpose of taking him back to London to live with me.”

It was as well that Cat, from the moment she had realized who this man was, had been steeling herself for this conversation.

Not only because she had no intention of giving this arrogant bastard the satisfaction of seeing he had the ability to unsettle her in any way, but also because, whatever purpose Andrew Belgrade might have traveled to Scotland with, she had no intention of allowing him to take Malcolm anywhere.

Chapter Three

“Please, do sit down, and I will pour you some tea,” she suggested smoothly as she made herself comfortable in the seat beside the refreshment tray, ruefully noting that Mrs. Murray had used the best china for their obviously illustrious guest.

Essex slowly, almost begrudgingly—she would not dare to ever describe this haughty gentleman’s demeanor as wary, although it was definitely guarded—lowered his long length into the chair opposite hers. His eyeglass was once again raised as his narrowed gaze remained on the deliberate calmness of her expression.

As if a part of him already suspected she was about to deliver a verbal blow he was going to dislike.

She poured the tea before handing him the cup and saucer, completely unprepared for the frisson of awareness which coursed through her body as his long fingers accidentally touched her own. At least she presumed it was accidentally. Certainly, this gentleman had not shown the slightest attraction to her before now.

But, she recalled, he had seemed very taken with the painting of her mother, and Cat did look very much like her.

More disturbing to Cat was that awareness which had caused her to pull her hand back sharply to her chest as soon as the duke had taken possession of the cup and saucer.

She was aged two and twenty and not some innocent miss unaware of sexual attraction. All other considerations aside, it would have been impossible for her not to know after these past five years, when Hugh and Elena could hardly keep their hands off each other for so much as a morning.

Still, Cat had not been expecting such a response in herself from just the lightest brush of the duke’s fingers against her own. An awareness that had moved from her hand and along the length of her arm before settling in her breasts. The tingling sensation had caused her nipples to tighten and swell inside the fitted bodice of her gown. A heat spread and grew between her thighs.

It was a totally unacceptable response to the man who had come here with the sole purpose of taking Malcolm from her. Especially when that man did not appear affected by her touch.

“Please help yourself to sugar,” she invited abruptly.

“I prefer it without.”

Cat had thought that might be the case; Andrew Belgrade was far too stiff and proper to ever allow his nature to be sweetened by a little sugar in his tea. “I am afraid, as Malcolm has eaten it all, there is no cake left for me to offer you,” she dismissed without any real apology as she added a liberal amount of sugar to her own cup before giving him