Robbie had snuck a woman into the house!
Catherine could smell coffee. He’d made a pot of coffee, and now they were sharing a cup before he snuck her back out.
Of all the nerve. It was one thing to have a girlfriend, but to bring her home with four teenage boys sleeping just down the hall was irresponsible.
So, the condoms were his. The man had a lot of brass to ask his housekeeper to buy his birth control and then use it in the bedroom right above hers. The more she thought about Robbie’s indiscretion, the madder Catherine got. She was not living with, or working for, someone who didn’t have the decency to keep his love life private.
Catherine slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her children, and quietly tiptoed to the door. She pulled her robe off the back of it, shrugged it on, and cracked the door open just enough to peek in the kitchen.
The woman was sitting on his lap. And she was smiling up at Robbie MacBain as if he hung the moon.
Catherine frowned. She looked like a teenager, or maybe early twenties at best. She had thick, beautiful red hair that fell in tight waves down to her waist, a sprinkling of freckles across her porcelain button nose, huge baby-blue eyes that shone like sapphires, and a figure that would make a dead man groan.
Robbie had one arm wrapped protectively around her, his other hand resting on her knee as he leaned down to look her in the eyes and whisper something. He gently lifted his hand, cupped her hair, and kissed the top of her head.
The girl buried her face in Robbie’s broad chest, snuggling closer as he continued to whisper, his lips moving against her hair. He stroked down the length of her arm, his broad, powerful hand a salacious contrast to her tiny, feminine body.
Catherine closed the door and leaned against the wall beside it, covering her burning cheeks with her hands and shutting her eyes on a sigh.
“FOUR PLAY.” How perfect for a cradle-robbing womanizer. And how bold of him to advertise his favorite indoor sport to the public.
Catherine sighed again, loosening the front of her robe and fanning it to cool her body.
Was she any better than that babe in the kitchen? Hadn’t she gotten all google-eyed when she had spent almost an hour cleaning and stitching him up? And didn’t she forget to breathe whenever he got close?
Darn it. This was not decent. There were young children in the house, four impressionable teens, and an outraged mother. No wonder the man had gone through three housekeepers. He was about to lose his fourth!
Catherine straightened away from the door, tightened the belt on her robe, opened the bedroom door, and boldly walked into the kitchen.
The girl didn’t even have the decency to get up but turned her smile on Catherine from the security of Robbie’s lap. Robbie MacBain didn’t move, either. But his eyes did widen when they landed on Catherine’s angry face, and he broke into an amused grin.
“You must be Cat,” the girl said to Catherine before turning to Robbie. “You’re right, she does look like she can handle the hoodlums.”
Catherine simply stared at her, nonplussed.
“And I’m thinking she’s about to handle us,” Robbie said with a chuckle, finally standing up and setting the woman on her feet. His arm still around her, he turned toward Catherine. “Cat, I’d like you to meet Winter MacKeage, my cousin. Winter, this is Catherine Daniels, the answer to my prayers.”
Catherine couldn’t even work up the sense to respond. His cousin? This tiny jewel of a girl was Robbie’scousin?
They didn’t look at all related. Winter MacKeage barely came up to his chest, her eyes were a crystalline blue to his pewter gray, her hair was flaming red, and her delicate neck was tinier than Robbie’s wrist. For as rugged and intrinsically male as Robbie MacBain was, Winter MacKeage was utterly feminine, right down to her dainty socked feet.
“Winter came here looking for sympathy,” Robbie said to Catherine, his eyes still laughing. “Her cat died.”
If she didn’t gather her wits and say something soon, Winter MacKeage was going to think she was an idiot. “I—I’m sorry,” Catherine whispered. “It’s hard to lose a pet.”
Robbie rolled his eyes. “Hessa was nineteen and should have died years ago.” He looked down at Winter. “Pure crankiness kept that ornery she-devil alive this long.”
Catherine gasped, and Winter pinched Robbie’s forearm and stepped away from him.
“Hessa was not a devil,” Winter said, crossing her arms under her breasts and glaring up at him. “And you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“Ah… how come I didn’t hear you knock?” Catherine asked, thinking to change the subject before their conversation turned into a fistfight.
Winter turned to her. “I didn’t want to wake anyone, so I threw pebbles at Robbie’s window.”
“More like rocks, you mean,” Robbie said with a snort. “I think you cracked the glass.”
Things were going from bad to worse. The two cousins were squared off against each other, Winter looking as if she wanted to smack Robbie, and Robbie’s eyes narrowed in laughter.
Catherine walked around the table and grabbed the frying pan out of the oven. “I’ll make us some breakfast,” she said, “while you tell me about Hessa, Winter.” She stopped and gave her a warm smile, deciding that if Robbie wouldn’t give his cousin any sympathy, then she would.
Winter sat down at the table, wrapped her hands around her cup of coffee, and sighed.
“She was a birthday present when I turned three,” Winter told her. “From Robbie,” she said, lifting her chin and glaring at her cousin again.
Robbie held up his hands. “Hey, I didn’t know that innocent-looking kitten was the spawn of the devil.”
“Hessa was a good cat. She only liked biting you to get a reaction.” Winter broke into a grin of her own. “She especially liked to hide when you came over and pounce on your toes because she knew you could never catch her.”
“I’m still having a hard time catching cats,” he said softly, glancing at Catherine, his eyes crinkling at her blush.
“How did she die?” Catherine asked, looking at Winter.
Winter looked from her to Robbie, then back at her, a speculative gleam in her eye. “In her sleep,” she said. “I woke up and found her snuggled against me in the middle of the night, appearing peaceful but very, very still. I think her heart simply stopped beating.”
Robbie walked over to Winter, lifted her chin with his finger, and smiled down at her.
“There’s no greater blessing than dying happy, baby girl,” he said gently. “Celebrate your nineteen years of friendship.”
“Aye,” Winter whispered, turning her cheek into his palm. “I am. I just wanted you to be the first to know about Hessa.”
Robbie leaned down and kissed her head, then took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
“Don’t worry about breakfast for us, Cat. I’m going to walk Winter home, get Hessa, and take them up the mountain to bury our old friend.”
Catherine had a hard time swallowing the lump in her throat. This powerful, towering giant really did have a heart. And what Robbie had said to her last night, about watching over his entire family—she was seeing the proof that he hadn’t been boasting. Winter had come here first, needing his comfort and getting it.
And then it dawned on her what Robbie had said, and she shot a startled look at Winter.
“Walk you home?” she repeated. “Youwalked here through the woods in the dark? All by yourself?”
Winter stepped into her boots with a laugh and pulled her coat from the pegs. “Of course,” she said. “I’m more at home in the woods than at Gu Bràth.”
“Gu Bràth?”
“That’s my home,” Winter explained, pointing out the porch door window. “At the ski resort. It’s a replica of a huge Scottish keep, made with stone from the mountain.” She stepped closer and took hold of Catherine’s hand. “You must come over for tea, and I’ll give you a tour.”