Devon kept the conversation light on purpose. And at the end of every ride, before they mounted up for the ride home, Devon would kiss Kat. Just once. Just enough to leave her—and him—wanting more.
It was the sort of seduction he’d never before carried out, one slowly paced and carefully planned. Every day was a tempting challenge, and Devon found that he was enjoying every minute of it.
Of course, he didn’t really think he needed to protect himself from Murien anymore…her charms did not appeal to him, which somewhat surprised him since she truly was the exact type of woman he’d pursued over and over. Perhaps that was why Kat was so appealing; she was just…Kat.
It was nice, too, to get away from the castle. Fiona continually attempted to throw Murien in his way, even though he’d been plain in his desire to stay away from her. And Murien, the gold standard gleaming in her beautiful eyes, encouraged Fiona to do just that.
In the end, there was nothing for it but to avoid Kilkairn until the time came for him to leave for Edinburgh, a day he should be looking forward to, but strangely was not. In fact, he refused to allow himself to remember the exact day. Every time he began to think ahead, an uneasy feeling rose in him.
Kat, of course, could have told him exactly how many days until he was due to leave, for it was a thought that was never far from her mind. In fact, this very morning she had awakened and lay in her large bed staring up at the hangings overhead, her mind immediately humming. She went to sleep and woke up thinking about Devon St. John. Strange how some people came into your life and then left without making a mark, while others came for only a short time and made such a dent that it would take years to fill the hole. Kat knew she was beginning to care for St. John. Oh, not in a romantic way, of course, though she enjoyed his kisses. It took far more than a kiss to sway her heart. But she was beginning to value his friendship. Yes. That was what it was.
Still…though he made a good friend, he was only passing time, avoiding being at Kilkairn Castle, any fool could see that. Kat needed to remember that fact.
She sighed. Who was she fooling? “Thank goodness he leaves soon,” she muttered. That was the only reason she’d allowed the relationship to progress as far as it had; she knew that it would all be over in a week or so and her life would settle back down to the routines she’d developed. But for the rest of her life, she’d have memories of rides through the woods, picnics beneath the trees, shared laughter, and the enjoyment of a good friend. What could be wrong with that?
A brisk knock sounded on the door and Annie entered. The petite woman was dwarfed by the huge silver tray she carried in her hands.
Annie set the tray on the night table and began arranging the dishes. A pleasant clank and clatter filled the room.
Kat pushed herself upright, tucking her hair behind her ears. “What’s this? Breakfast in bed? But Annie, I am not ill!”
“Neither is the prince, but I daresay he has breakfast in bed every day.”
“Yes,” Kat said, “and look how fat he has gotten.”
Annie waved a hand. “Ye’re not fat, m’lady. Ye’re rounded. ’Tis a different thing. As fer the prince, I would no’ know aboot him as I try to avoid the scandal sheets whenever possible.”
Kat laughed. Annie brought back every scandal sheet she could procure from her cousins in London. Kat knew because she’d read them all to Annie at one time or another. “So why did you bring me breakfast in bed?” She lifted first one cover and then another, the scent of hot bacon and ham wafting through the air.
“Whist now, Miss Kat. Can’t I do something pleasant fer ye without bein’ accused of false pretenses?”
Kat raised her brows. “No.”
Annie sighed and took a seat on the edge of the bed, the mattress barely sagging with her weight. “Ye’re talkin’ nonsense. Come, lass. We can coze a bit whilst ye’re eatin’.”
Here it came. “Yes?” Kat said politely, cutting her ham into small bites.
“I’ve been thinkin’, I have.”
Kat took a bite.
Annie sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “See, Miss Kat, ’tis like this; whilst I know ye think ye have everything under control where the Sassenach is concerned, I have to wonder if ’tis so.”
“Why is that?”
“Because there are signs ye’re not so immune to him as ye think.”
“Oh for the love of—Annie, I’ve only gone riding with him a few times. I’m not planning a hand fasting.”
“Aye, ’tis a good thing, that, fer you’d not get it. From what I’ve heard, the Sassenach is a libertine.”
“A liber—Who told you that?”
“Me cousin, Janie. She said she heard Miss Spalding say Mr. St. John’s only purpose in comin’ to see ye was—” Annie broke off, glancing away, her face red. “Ye know what I mean.”
Kat considered this. After a moment, she said slowly, “And if that is true? How would that change things?”
“Miss Kat!”
“Annie, he has been nothing but gentlemanly, though I’d not allow him to be else. Besides, he’s leaving in a week. I’ve nothing to worry about.”
“Are ye sure?”
“Aye. That I am.”
“Oh? How will ye feel if he leaves? I worry that ye’re already too attached.”
Kat picked up her bread and became very busy spreading butter over it. “I am fine. Really I am. Once Devon is gone, I will have some lovely memories. Where’s the harm in that?”
“Hmph. Just see to it that ye don’t have a baby full of memories.”
“Annie!”
“Whist now. Ye know what I mean. A man who looks like that, why, if he so much as stumbled, I’d fall flat on the floor and pray that he fell atop me.”
Kat had to laugh. “You are incorrigible.”
“I don’t rightly know what that means, but it sounds well enough, so I’ll thank ye.” Annie stood. “Now eat up and I’ll come in a wee bit to collect the tray.”
“Thank you, Annie.”
“Whist. It was nothing.” The scrawny housekeeper waved a hand. “By the by, Simon is gettin’ worried about you. Ye might want to set his mind at ease afore he does something silly.”
“Simon is a worrier. He always has been.”
“Aye, and that makes him all the more dangerous, fer he’s apt to get involved if he decides things are not progressin’ as he thinks they should or shouldn’t.”
Kat nodded. She’d have a word with Simon. Meanwhile, her mind returned to Devon. Was Annie right? Was Kat getting too attached? All she knew was that she was not going to stop seeing Devon. Not yet, anyway. She’d just let the days unfold and enjoy them all, and then worry about Devon’s departure when that day arrived. She’d just have to make certain she didn’t let go of her heart.
That settled, she pulled the tray closer and ate.
Devon rode into the clearing, but unlike the previous days, Kat did not come out to welcome him. But of course, he was well over an hour late thanks to Murien’s machinations. She’d caught him in the stables and had quizzed him mercilessly about his horse. Devon ground his teeth.
He dismounted and tied Thunder to a rail, then tilted his head and listened. He could just make out the faint sound of voices from the workshop. Deep masculine voices and a lone, husky feminine voice.
Devon walked to the workshop, pausing outside. Was Kat angry at him for not arriving when he’d said he would?
“’Tis a complete ruin.” Kat’s voice filtered outside.
“Aye,” agreed one of the lads. “The fool couldn’t even draw a proper bead.”
Another lad added, “An’ look at the bit o’ a smudge that’s on the bottom.”
“Aye,” came a voice that Devon recognized as Simon’s. “A cow-handed job if I ever seen one.”
“We’ll have to melt the seams and take it all apart,” Kat said.
Devon stepped quietly into the workshop. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but they eventually did. He was intr
igued with what he saw.
Rows of large tables ran the center of the shop, strewn with pieces of glass of every color, as well as several large squares. To one end of the room was a fire that was banked and covered until it smoldered. Beside it was a large, flat table strewn with long sticks and covered with drips of dried metal.
He turned his head toward the side of the shop that had no windows. Against the wall stood racks of glass, each sheet stacked on end and arranged by hue. There were cobalts and sky-blues, deep greens and mints, sun yellows and rich golds, royal-purples and pale violets, and every color in between. Truly, the room bore so much color that it seemed magical.
Yet the colors were not so much what caught him as Kat herself. Gathered with her lads around her at a table, Kat stood in one of her plain gray gowns. She was looking down at a seemingly finished piece of glasswork, a large square that depicted a unicorn grazing in a grass field.
She traced a line between two colors with one finger. “I’ve never seen such a horrid piece of work.”
Simon rubbed his chin. “Do ye think we can—” He caught sight of Devon. Simon’s jaw clenched.
Kat’s gaze followed Simon’s. Her face reddened. “St. John.”
Never had his name sounded so unwelcoming. He had to stifle yet another surge of irritation for Murien’s clinging ways. There was nothing for it but the truth. “Kat, I am sorry I am late. I was detained at the castle by a very determined committee of one.”
Kat’s brow cleared. “Murien.”
“Aye. I tried to get away, but she made it impossible.”
There was a short moment of silence, and then Kat shrugged. “We can go riding another day.”
Another day? He’d be damned if he’d return to the castle without spending at least a little time with her. Besides, he wanted their kiss. For some reason, the thought of going without that simple embrace made his jaw set. Ignoring the hostile gazes of the lads, Devon clasped his hands behind him and walked to the table. “You know…you did promise to show me your workshop.”
“Indeed I did.” She gestured around them. “Here ’tis.”
He looked at the glasswork before them. “Did you just make this?”
Kat looked startled. “This?”
Simon spat on the dirt floor. “We’re good at our trade. Don’t think we aren’t.”
“Easy, Simon,” Kat said, unrolling her sleeves and buttoning them back around her wrists. “’Tis time ye were all back to work. Simon and I will find a way to at least make this better, if not fix it all together.”
The lads left to go about their work, except Simon, who stayed in listening range.
Devon managed a rueful smile for Kat. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about glasswork. What’s wrong with this piece that it offends you so?”
“A thousand things.” She tilted her head to one side, her eyes narrowed. “See the line of the solder, how ’tis thicker on one side than t’other?”
He nodded.
“That is poor workmanship. Now see here, where the corner is patched and you can tell? Again, poor workmanship.”
“Your men would never turn out such work as that, would they?”
“Not if they valued their jobs, they wouldn’t. Oh, we all make mistakes now and again, and I’m well aware of it. But this type of work where the metal is heavier in places than it should be leaves the window weak and prone to cracking.”
“Ah. So the problem with this piece isn’t the uneven metal, but the weight of what is there.”
“Aye. The secret is balance. If you’re heavy on one side and not the other, the window can warp. The metal’s only purpose is to link the glass together and lend some form to the whole. The frame is where the real strength of the window is built.”
Devon watched her glowing face, faintly envious. “You like doing this.”
“I cannot imagine not doing it,” she said honestly. “I love the whole process, from the design, to cutting the pieces, to applying the metals, to seeing the finished window.”
He tapped the glass on the table before them. “What about fixing other people’s errors?”
She laughed, the sound infectious. “Even that, though ’tis fortunate we are not oft asked to do such a thing. Truly, had this one not kept cracking, no one but the lads and I would have ever noticed the flaws. ’Tis a lovely piece despite the errors.”
Devon leaned his hip against the table, facing her so that he could see every nuance of her face. With the exception of Simon, who stood glaring not five feet away, it was as if Kat and Devon were alone, for no one else was near enough to hear. “You are very different from the women of my world.”
Her face shuttered. After a moment she said, “Not so different.”
“But you are. Most of the women I know think marriage their goal. But not you.”
“No,” she said. “Not I.”
He had to smile at her flat expression. Usually he was the one with that particularly unimpressed look. “Would you give up all of this for the right man?”
She snorted, then caught herself and blushed. “I am sorry. See the hazards of working among men all day? I’ve no delicacy left.”
Oh, but how he disagreed. Even dressed in servant’s clothing and with soot streak down one cheek, she was beautiful, womanly, and ladylike. He couldn’t explain how she did it, but she did. He reached out and wiped away the soot with the pad of his thumb.
He dropped his hand when the mark was gone. “I have to wonder if you snorted because you would never give up your calling for the right man?”
“The right man wouldn’t ask me to give up anything.” She turned her gaze on him, clean and clear, as if looking right through him. “The right man would accept me as I am, and learn to love the things I love, or at least appreciate them.”
One of the lads came up to discuss the cut of a pane of glass, and Devon was left alone for a moment.
He wondered what it would be like to be loved by a woman like Kat. He suddenly realized one reason that his previous affairs seemed so unsatisfactory; those women had been pale shadows of what a woman could be; Kat was beginning to show him that.
In fact, the passion he’d shared with his past loves didn’t seem nearly as exciting to him as it once had. It had been about the chase, and nothing else. No wonder none of them had lasted more than a few weeks.
He looked down at the picture of the unicorn, absently noting that though the metalwork was uneven, the animal itself was well rendered. What would it be like to be loved by Kat, both physically and emotionally?
Emotionally, he didn’t know. But physically, he could vouch for her reactions—at least partially. He’d kissed her no fewer than six times now, each one more scorching than the last and though he’d attempted to keep the kisses sweet, chaste even, in an effort to reassure her, she’d been the one to tug them both closer to the edge. She was responsive, wildly and passionately so, a fact that warmed his blood and heated his soul.
He knew the time was approaching when he wouldn’t be able to stop at just one kiss. He both looked forward to and hated the thought of that day, for it would signal the beginning of the end of their relationship. Just as it did in all his previous relationships. Because once that occurred, the chase was over.
He thought of their last kiss, the memory enough to make his body react. Devon glanced at the door, wondering how he would get Kat away from the prying eyes of her lads so that he could taste her once again.
Suddenly he realized that he had only a week and a few days before he left.
Blast and hell, what was he waiting for? It was time he moved the relationship forward, at least some. If he didn’t do so soon, he’d be gone before he could discover the true extent of Kat’s passion, and Devon was determined not to let that happen.
Kat’s voice sounded at his shoulder. “Do you like the unicorn?”
He realized he’d been blindly staring at it. “Just trying to see all the flaws.”
“Sometimes ’tis best
just to focus on the beauty.”
He smiled. “Miss Kat, would you do me the honor of walking me to my horse?” He held out his elbow, and after a moment’s hesitation, Kat tucked her hand in his. Out of the corner of his eye, Devon caught a glimpse of Simon, who stood watching, arms crossed, a fierce scowl on his craggy face. “Kat m’love,” Devon whispered. “I think we have a problem.”
She looked at him, surprise in her wide green eyes. “What problem?”
“Your friend Simon does not think much of me.”
“He’s just a mite protective.”
“Hm. I see. He also does not like me. At all.”
She seemed to consider this as they strolled outside to the railing where Thunder was tied. The horse had been there so many times that he was quite comfortably reaching through one of the barn doors to nibble some hay that stuck out around a corner.
“Simon is like a member of my own family. He watches out after both Annie and me.”
“Annie is your housekeeper? The little bird of a woman?”
“Aye. She’s his sister, and he treats us much the same.”
“Hm.” They were at Thunder’s side. Devon looked around. Even from here, he could make out Simon’s shape in the window of the workshop.
Devon took Kat’s hand and pulled her around to the other side of Thunder.
“What are you doin—”
He kissed her. But this time, he didn’t do the chivalrous thing and hold back. Instead, he kissed her with every ounce of his desire. He wrapped his arms about her, held her tightly to him, pressed his length to hers as he plundered her mouth, hotly and passionately. He kissed her until he could feel the tremors in her body and her knees weakened and he had to hold her upright.
When he finally lifted his head, he looked into her eyes and said, “Kat, I want more. More of you.”
Her breath rushed through her lips, her eyes were wide and luminous. He could see she was as affected as he. He set her back on her feet. “Think about that, would you? I will return tomorrow.”
And the Bride Wore Plaid Page 15