Page 36 of The Duke's Second Bride
“What on Earth?” he hissed, and his hiss was matched by a similar sound from the mass of ginger fur that had taken up residence on his chair.
For a moment, Christian was so bewildered that he could do nothing but stare in complete and utter shock. The ginger mass curled up there with complete confidence, as though it owned the place.
Was it some sort of ball of wool? Or one of Luke’s toys? Was he dreaming entirely?
He reached out to move it. But as soon as he did, he regretted it, as the little bundle of fluff hissed at him again. He took a step back.
“Oh! Pudding! I’m so sorry,” came a voice from behind him.
Ava rushed forth, a blur of honey blonde hair and the blue fabric of her dress, and scooped up the threatening ginger fur-ball.
“How did that creature get here?” Christian exclaimed.
“This is Pudding,” Ava said, stroking the creature in question until it had ceased its distressed meows—for it was, indeed, a cat—and turned instead to contented purring. “I had him brought over from my old estate. He is mine. I’ve had him a year, now.”
“I …” He took a deep breath. “I was not aware you had a cat.”
“Well, we did not exactly have much time to get to know each other before our wedding,” Ava said, continuing to pet Pudding.
While the cat had distinctly relaxed in its mistress’s arms, it still glared at Christian as though he had tried to murder it.
Which he supposed he had, almost sitting on it, but that was an accident, so it wasn’t quite fair of the cat to be looking at him with that much animosity in its eyes.
“Yes,” he said. “Well. I am now. Aware, I mean.” Then, to himself, he muttered, “Though I’d have preferred to know about the feral beast before it infiltrated my home.”
“Feral beast? Pudding, a feral beast?” Ava asked with a scoff.
He decided not to let the moment pass. “You ought to have told me in advance that you’d bring an animal with you to the house,” he said.
“Would that have changed anything?” she challenged him.
He laughed bitterly, a single, stark sound. “What?” he asked.
“If you knew I had a cat, would that have been the thing that dissuaded you from your idea to marry within the week?” she elaborated. “Leave Luke alone, and me under Dunfair’s control?’
“Of course not,” he said.
“Then I see not what difference it makes,” she said, chin raised in that stubborn expression he was beginning to grow so familiar with.
God, he wanted to kiss that expression off her face—no, he was supposed to be erasing thoughts like that!
“Fine,” he said. “I suppose it makes no difference at all.”
“So that cat stays,” she said.
Christian could only grunt back in response.
He had a distinct feeling that if he were to say no, then she would immediately leave and take the cat with her. Which, given the way they were bickering every time they were left alone in a room together, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It would certainly save him a lot of hassle and headaches in the days, weeks, and years to come.
A whole lifetime of this—what joy, he thought bitterly.
“Good,” Ava said.
“Good,” Christian matched her.
“Good,” she repeated. The air between them still felt charged. Neither one of them had acknowledged the kiss. Perhaps he should. But before he got the chance, she continued, “Where were you this morning?”
He raised a brow. “And why do you care to know?”
