“I did no such thing,” Kat replied hotly. Although, to be honest, there had been a moment yesterday when she thought she’d heard horse’s hooves clopping on the path and her heart had pounded a bit harder than usual. She sighed to herself. Very well…perhaps she had hoped to see the Sassenach again. He’d been much in her thoughts. But she’d be damned before she admitted such a thing to Simon.
Of course, she was a little chagrined that St. John hadn’t returned before now. Perhaps he wasn’t as interested as he’d pretended. The thought pricked at her pride.
“Lass, ye’re dreamin’ if ye think this Sassenach will come a-callin’. Not that ye’re not a lovely woman, fer ye are. But the Sassenach didn’t look like the kind of man who’d take the time to act like a proper gent—” Simon’s gaze moved past her, his brows lowering until they met over his nose. “Bloody hell!”
Kat turned, though she already knew what she’d see. And there he was—Devon St. John, riding across the clearing. He was hatless, the sun gleaming off his black hair, limning the bridge of his nose and touching the plane of each cheekbone. Dressed in a blue riding coat with buff breeches, he looked far too handsome to be in the woods.
There! She’d been right to wear one of her better gowns. She cleared her throat. “Simon?”
“Aye, lass?” It was a testament to how upset he was that Simon’s voice was more of a rumble than actual words.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the lads and begin cleaning the workshop. I’ll be there in a trice.”
Simon glowered. “I don’t like leavin’ ye with His Namby-Pamby Lordship. Ye need a chaperone.”
“Out here? In the middle of the clearing? What’s he going to do? Throw me to the ground and have his way with me in front of all of you and the house staff?”
“I wouldna put it past him, the bounder.”
“Simon, you’ve gone daft, you have. Now off with you. I’ll be there to help shortly.”
“But—”
“Please.”
Simon sighed. “Very well,” he mumbled. He slowly turned on his heel, glaring at Devon as he went.
Devon pulled Thunder to a halt as Simon walked by. It didn’t take a man of unusual discernment to read the message on Simon’s craggy face. Devon hoped that the fact that he returned the look without flinching sent a message back.
He reached Kat and dismounted. She looked especially lovely today, her hair a little tousled by the wind, her gown hugging those luxuriant curves.
It made all his efforts worthwhile. He thought he discerned the slightest bit of excitement in her green gaze, a hint of warm welcome that was quite different from the calm dismissal she’d last given him. Good. Though he’d wanted nothing more than to storm back to the clearing after their last meeting, he’d decided that Miss Kat needed some time to decide what she wanted. He’d hoped that being alone in the woods with her work—doing the same thing she always did, talking to the same people she always talked to—would make her yearn for something out of the ordinary. Something special. Like an Englishman with a ready smile.
He smiled down at her now, bowing a little. “Good morning.” Last night he and Malcolm had whiled away the evening playing billiards and drinking brandy. As soon as night fell, Devon excused himself and went to his room, where he began to formulate a plan, all the while feeling the onerous presence of the talisman ring. With the information he’d garnered from Malcolm, added to his own innate knowledge of women, and the little he knew about Katherine Anne Macdonald, Devon was fairly sure that by the end of the week, if he was not in her bed, he’d be close to it. She was a hot piece, and all he had to do was break through some of the barriers she’d erected around her heart.
Not too many, of course, for he had no intention of becoming the focal point of that heart. All he wanted was the pleasure of her body, a brief taste of her spirit. Her heart she could save for whomever she came to love, as long as it wasn’t Devon.
But first, before he did anything, he had to win her trust. After that, he would woo her with a thoroughness that would leave them both panting and pleased. Malcolm had said Kat needed the truth and Devon was ready.
He bowed, glancing up at her through his lashes.
Her cheeks flushed pink beneath the cream, though her gaze did not waver. “Perhaps we should skip the civilities and go right to the reason you are here.”
Devon had to smile. “I came to ask you once again if you would come for a ride with me.”
“No.”
“Poor Thunder. He would have enjoyed having such a lovely rider.”
Her mouth formed a no, but it never came out of her mouth. Instead her gaze went over his shoulder to where the horse was tied, the sun gleaming on the gelding’s pure, strong lines.
After a long moment, she turned her gaze back to Devon. He was amused, as well as chagrined, to see that some of the admiration that had sparkled in her gaze when she’d looked at the horse had disappeared when she focused on him.
Devon had to bite back a sigh. Kat was so different from the women he usually met; like Malcolm’s sister-in-law, for example. Murien Spalding was everything Malcolm had warned of—she was small and feminine and exuded a helpless charm—exactly the sort of woman Devon knew he should avoid, though it had been difficult. Murien seemed determined to waylay him every chance she got, which made Kat’s reluctance all the more appealing.
Kat looked at him now. “If I ride your horse, what will you ride?”
He shrugged. “I daresay you have any number of animals in your stable that could hold me.”
“None are as fine as Thunder.”
“No, but I will be justly compensated by your lovely company.” He knew he’d made a mistake the second the words were out of his mouth. Kat Macdonald didn’t want flowery phrases and empty words. She wanted…He almost frowned. What did she want?
Her expression had shuttered, and he could see that she was already pulling away. There was nothing for it but the truth. “Miss Macdonald—Kat, please. I am a stranger in Scotland. And while I am thankful for your brother’s hospitality, it is rather tense in the castle.”
Her expression softened just the tiniest bit. “Fiona and Malcolm are still at it?”
“Oh yes. So far I haven’t had the opportunity to witness them do anything other than snip at each other, though I’m sure they were a charming couple when they first wed.”
She tilted her head to one side, curiosity making her eyes appear lighter. “You don’t sound as if you approve.”
“Of what? Marriage?”
She nodded.
“I don’t believe in it. At least not for me.”
A faint smile touched her lips, the first one today. For some reason, Devon felt as if the sun shone a trifle brighter just because of that tiny upturn of her generous lips.
“So you aren’t a marrying man.” Her eyes were bright with amusement. “I’m surprised you admit that.”
So was he, though it was the truth. Had he made such a statement to a society miss in London, one with a matrimonial gleam in her eye, he would have been labeled crass and unfeeling. But Kat merely nodded. “I don’t think I believe in it, either. Not anymore.”
A faint hint of sadness touched her smile. Devon knew she was remembering her past, and he was hard-pressed not to ask her about it. He certainly didn’t know her well enough to ask such personal questions, but somehow he knew that if he did, she would answer. There was no pretense or artifice about Kat. There was…just Kat herself.
Thunder whickered in indignation at being made to stand, and he pawed the ground impatiently.
Kat chuckled. “You had better go. He doesn’t look happy.”
“He can stay where he is until I’ve had my answer. Will you ride with me?”
She turned her head to give Thunder a final, lingering glance. Devon knew the instant she made up her mind, for her shoulders straightened.
“Very well. I will ride with you. But it cannot be for long. I’ve work to do.”
/>
“I know that. We’ll make it an hour, no more.”
She raised her brows.
“Half an hour then. Later this afternoon?”
“No. Best make it tomorrow.”
He’d hoped for today, but if he wanted to breach the walls Kat had built, he’d have to let her set their pace. So instead, he took her hand and turned it over in his. “Shall we say morning? At ten?”
“Fine.”
He uncurled her fingers and pressed a kiss to her palm. Her skin was warm and firm beneath his, her fingers roughened. He ran his thumb over hers and smiled into her eyes. “You work far too hard.”
She pulled her hand back, her face shuttering once again. “Work is good for the soul, Mr. St. John. Perhaps one day you’ll try it and see.”
“I may not have cut firewood for a living, but I’ve done my fair share of work.”
“Indeed?”
“I’m solely responsible for various aspects of the St. John holdings. More than any of my brothers other than Marcus, I have safeguarded the family fortune and helped it grow.”
“That’s not work.”
He thought of the countless meetings he’d sat through, some lasting days, of the hard-won negotiations, of the endless hours he’d spent traveling to their holdings. “Tell me, Miss Certainty, have you tried it?”
She pursed her lips. “No. I suppose I shouldn’t speak, then.”
“No,” he agreed. “Any more than I should make assumptions about your glasswork.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Perhaps one day you can show me the glass shop. I wish to see how it all works.”
She shot him an uncertain look. “No one has ever asked me that.”
“Well, I’m curious. Especially after your brother showed me some of your efforts.”
“I could spit on a glass and tell Malcolm it was a lantern shield and he’d think it was the best thing he’d ever seen.”
Devon smiled. “That’s what brothers are for.”
She nodded, her lips curving into a returning smile. For a moment, a simple sort of harmony seemed to build between them. Perhaps it was the cool breeze that kept tugging her dress and fanning the fringes of her hair. Or perhaps it was gradual realization that they were not quite as different as they thought. Whatever it was, Devon found himself lingering, wanting to stay a little longer. And a little longer yet.
Kat scuffed her toe on the ground. “How many brothers do you have, St. John?”
“Four. And a sister.”
Her eyes widened. “That many?”
“My father said we were his army, and indeed our house was often like an army camp.”
She looked at him wistfully, but didn’t say anything.
“You and Malcolm seem unusually close.”
“He’s been a good brother to me.”
“And I’m sure you’ve been a good sister.”
“I try,” she said softly, “though he does so much—” She bit her lip.
“I daresay you do more than you realize.”
A horse could be heard coming down the path. Devon recognized Malcolm the same instant Kat did.
“Blast it,” Devon said with a sigh. “Your brother has an uncanny way of showing up when he’s least wanted.”
“It’s a trait he’s had his whole life,” she replied in a grim voice.
Devon pulled Thunder closer. “I shall see you tomorrow then?”
“At ten,” she agreed.
“Excellent.” He took her hand and placed one last kiss on the back of it.
Kat had to fight a shiver as his lips brushed her skin. Her entire body seemed to tighten whenever he was about, and when he touched her, she had to clench her teeth against a tremor that traced her spine.
“Till tomorrow, Miss Macdonald.” With that, he left her and remounted Thunder.
Kat watched him go, a dashing figure on the black horse. A horse that tomorrow she would be riding. And oh, what a horse. She eyed it greedily, almost giving a little hop of excitement. Only the knowledge that Simon was most likely standing in the window, watching, made her hold it back. She wasn’t really excited about seeing Devon St. John, she told herself; all she wanted to do was ride that beautiful horse.
Still, she could not deny that it would be pleasant to have someone with whom to while away a little time now that the earl’s windows were done. There were more orders to fill; there always were. But none so urgent.
Malcolm had pulled up to speak to St. John, and she stood there a moment, watching them and feeling strangely bereft.
All she had for company were the lads and Annie and Malcolm, whenever Fiona could spare him from the castle. While they were all good people, Kat sometimes wished for more. Something was vaguely disquieting about the way things had settled in her daily existence. Kat thought that perhaps a conversation or two with Mr. Devon St. John might help her discover what that was.
Of course, she’d make good and certain those conversations were held in broad daylight. She’d also make certain St. John’s hands stayed closer to his person than to hers. Not that she was worried; she had experience in such matters, and St. John already had one bruise to prove it.
Malcolm and St. John said their good-byes, and Malcolm turned his horse toward Kat. He hopped down from the large bay and gave her a broad smile.
“What’s that all about?” she asked, instantly suspicious.
“What?” he said, blinking innocently, though his grin dimmed not one whit.
“That smile. I don’t trust it. You never smile like that.”
Malcolm did a little jig, pumping his arms in a ridiculous way. “There,” he said, coming to a stop, panting hard, though the smile still lit his eyes. “I never dance, either, but I am today.”
She had to laugh; she felt a little giddy herself. For a mad moment, she wondered if this was all from St. John’s presence. But then she realized how silly that was. “So, Malcolm, what has you in such a good mood? Did you and Fiona solve your differences?” Kat immediately wished she hadn’t mentioned Fiona, as some of the light left Malcolm’s face.
“Not yet.” A set look touched his mouth. “But hopefully soon.”
“I hope so, too.” And she did. She knew how much he cared for his wife. Though Fiona didn’t seem capable of seeing it, it was painfully obvious to everyone else.
“Did you get the windows off to the earl?”
“Aye. You just missed them.”
“Excellent.” Malcolm rubbed his hands together. “I have a favor to ask you, Kat. A big one.”
“What?”
“I need you to entertain St. John a wee bit—” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth to deny him. “Only during the days. No more.”
“Why?”
“Because Murien arrived at the castle earlier this week.”
Kat pressed her lips together. “Murien has her sights on St. John.”
Malcolm nodded. “And you know what she is. She won’t stop until she has him.”
“Surely he can avoid her if he wishes—”
“He might, but then there is that blasted talisman ring.” Malcolm shook his head solemnly.
Kat caught him looking at her from beneath his lashes. “What talisman ring?”
“Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.”
“Och now, why hasn’t he done so? I suppose he’s a mite embarrassed.” Malcolm sighed heavily. “Poor Devon. His family is cursed with a ring that seems to cause marriage.”
“Marriage?”
“That’s what happened to three of his brothers. And they each had the ring in their possession when it happened, too. Devon fled London, hoping to escape the ring, but he found it in his carriage after he’d left, and so here he is, stuck with the blasted thing.”
“Malcolm…surely you don’t believe in this ring?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“I don’t.”
He eyed her shrewdly. “Not at all?”
“Not even a little.”
>
“Good!” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object. “Since you don’t believe in it, you won’t mind trying it on.”
Kat blinked down at the small circle that lay in the palm of his hand. Silver with tiny runes etched in the surface, it appeared innocuous. “Does St. John know you have that?”
Malcolm looked slightly shame-faced. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps? Och, Malcolm! He’s your guest.”
“Whist, Kat! I am going to put it back. I was just curious.” He held the circlet up to the light. “You must admit ’tis pretty.”
It was pretty, glistening in the sun. As Kat looked at the ring, the urge to touch it began to simmer through her.
She shook her head. “I want nothing to do with it.”
“Damn, Kat! Must you be so stubborn?”
“Yes,” she answered implacably.
A sigh burst from his lips. “You are the most irritating woman I know, with the exception of Fiona.”
“Thank you. I’ll treasure those words.”
“I only borrowed the ring; I did not steal it, so you can stop glaring at me.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because I was curious to see it. Don’t you fash, I’ll have it returned to his room before he knows what’s toward. Meanwhile, hold out your hand and let’s see if the ring fits.”
“Fits?” Her brow lowered. What was he doing? “Why would you want to see if it fits?”
“Because I’m curious, is why.” Malcolm reached out and grabbed her hand. Before Kat could say another word, he’d slipped the ring over her finger.
For an instant, she felt nothing. Not even the tang of cold metal against her skin. “It’s noth—” She caught her breath. A slow, almost insistent heat was beginning to radiate from her finger.
“What is it?” Malcolm asked, leaning forward, his gaze fastened on her face. “What do you feel?”
“I feel…” Bloody hell, what did she feel? Her entire hand was warm, her arm tingled, and now her breasts were beginning to shimmer with heat.
Malcolm blinked. “Kat, love. Are you well? Your face—” He gripped her arms. “Kat?”
She gasped. Heat arced from her breasts to her stomach and then lower. Somehow, she saw St. John. Saw his face above hers…felt his hands on her body…felt his hips against hers…She clenched her teeth against the onslaught of emotion and feeling. It was as if every thought she’d ever had, every feeling, was suddenly thrown into her heart at once. It was almost too much to bear.
And the Bride Wore Plaid Page 10