Touching? Cat bit her lip to keep a retort from bubbling out, one that would likely not stay quiet enough to escape the listening ears around them. She had never yelled at a man, but she thought if given the chance then she would gladly shout at Karanteg. Prior to that the only true arguments she had ever had had been with Eilidh. There was something about shouting that seemed intensely personal, and she was not sure if she ever wanted to give that to him. Throw things at him? Yes, oh yes, she could see herself doing that. Something nice and heavy that would leave a mark. Her first husband had seen no problem leaving a mark on her when she did something displeasing, so...
"I know what your bastard twins look like," Cat informed him. "And you know, quite well, that I would not want the steward executed for something I am sure you knew about before it happened. You are Lord of Seòrdag, are you not? Valdemar would have approached Elgar with such things before making final decisions, so unless your implication is that your steward thinks you incompetent with details, then you knew." She sighed, ignoring whichever way Karanteg was looking. It wasn't that she cared about her husband's dalliances, it was that when he did it with no degree of discretion that she cared, because it reflected badly on her. "So long as I do not have to see their little faces every way I turn, I will let it go. Should they somehow appear as a servant of mine or my children in any way? Well." Her smile was positively radiant as they paused behind lord and lady whoever ahead of them. Her hand came up to pluck a piece of dirt off his shirt. "Children fall all the time, my love."