And the Bride Wore Plaid

  Devon reached across the space between them and drew his finger down her cheek. The touch left a trail of delicate fire that lit a heated pathway down her neck to her breast and beyond.

  “What do you want, Kat? Because whatever it is, so long as it is not marriage, I will give it to you.”

  She tilted her head to one side. “Why do you hate the thought of marriage so much?”

  His humor faded. “Because…” A shadow crossed his eyes. “I have a confession to make. It is not a pretty one, and you may never again wish to speak to me.”

  She waited, unwilling even to speculate on what he might say.

  “Kat, as much as I wish it was otherwise, I cannot seem to remain…enamored of a woman for more than two months.”

  “Two months?”

  He winced. “It sounds bad even to my own ears, so I cannot imagine how horrid it sounds to yours. I cannot help it; I grow bored after a short time, so I know I can never marry. I will not make a promise I know I cannot keep.”

  Kat nodded. “That is how it should be. You are very honorable.”

  His lips twisted. “Kat, I will not pretend I am not attracted to you—I am and you know it. And I will not pretend I do not wish for a more physical relationship than we have now. Honestly, I would give up Thunder just to spend one hour in a bed with you and nothing between us but tangled sheets and the dampness of our own bodies.”

  A delicious shiver tremored through her. He was so delectable, his gaze so blue, so intense. Better yet, honesty shone through him. For an instant, she thought she could see the truth shimmering over him like a light.

  He raked a hand through his wet hair again, and she saw that his hand trembled the slightest bit.

  “This is foolish,” he said with a rueful smile. “I am ruining my chances with you, but I refuse to be less than truthful.” He took her hand. “Kat, I don’t know what happened in Edinburgh, but—”

  “You should know.”

  “No. That is not necessary—”

  “It is, too.” She met his gaze directly, gathering courage. “If we are to continue this…relationship, brief though it may be, I will not have any secrets.”

  He hesitated, then sighed. “If you want to tell me, then do so.”

  She took a breath, her hands fisting at her sides. “I have thought this through a hundred times until I think I finally understand what I was doing and why. I was not raised at the castle like Malcolm. Our father really had little to do with my mother once I was born.”

  “He neglected her?”

  “He made sure we didn’t go hungry and that we had enough to survive. But sometimes whole months would go by and we’d never see him.”

  “That is sad.”

  “It was hard for us both,” she agreed, “mainly because we knew he lived such a short distance away. It was especially difficult for Mama because she was the one he really rejected. I think he was always sorry he’d met her. At least, that was the impression he left us with.”

  Kat spoke simply, without pain. But Devon had an idea what even that gesture had cost her. “I see,” he said, unable to think of anything better to add. He wondered if he should take her in his arms, but her next words forestalled him.

  “It doesn’t hurt so much now. Once Father died, I got Malcolm.” Her face softened. “I have never regretted that trade.”

  “Malcolm knew of your existence?”

  “He overheard his mother telling one of the stewards that my mother and I were to be ejected from the cottage. He was only twelve, but he stepped in and demanded that we be left alone. I think he’d seen us and had guessed the truth. We have never discussed it.”

  Devon smiled. “Malcolm’s stubbornness is as legendary as my determination.”

  She returned his smile, her eyes warming slightly. “Determination or stubbornness? Aren’t they the same?”

  “I like to use the word ‘determination’ when applied to myself, and ‘stubbornness’ when applied to others.”

  He was rewarded with a quiet chuckle that made his heart ache.

  “It is a flaw we three share, then,” she said. “Anyway, after Malcolm knew of our existence, he came almost every day. His mother tried to stop him, but he ignored her and…he became my brother. Whatever I needed, he has been there for me. I am ever conscious of his kindness, which makes it difficult to say him nay.”

  “He can be persuasive.”

  “Indeed. When I turned sixteen, my mother died. Malcolm wished me to live at Kilkairn. Against my better judgment, I did so.”

  “Thus the blue room.”

  “Thus the blue room,” she agreed. “He offered me one of the larger rooms, but I was uncomfortable. Besides, his mother resented me enough.”

  “I begin to dislike Malcolm’s mother.”

  “Och now,” Kat said softly, her voice gently chiding. “I reminded her of a time between herself and her husband that she wished gone. I cannot blame her for that.”

  “I suppose not,” he said, unconvinced. “Did you like living at Kilkairn?”

  “No. For so long, I had been on the outside of the castle. I thought being on the inside would be magical. But it wasn’t. I felt lost, and I think Malcolm sensed that. He decided I needed more companionship, that I should be ‘launched’ on society as if I belonged.”

  “As if?”

  “I was illegitimate, and everyone knew it. I had no money other than the dowry Malcolm was willing to settle on me. And—” She shrugged. “I am not a beauty. I never have been. But Malcolm was determined that I go. He coerced his mother to sponsor me, and for once she and I were in agreement; I didn’t want to go any more than she wanted to take me. But Malcolm won the day and we went.”

  “It sounds as if the conditions were perfect for a disaster.”

  “It was horrid. And it got worse before it was over. I believe Lady Strathmore was sincere in her attempts to dress me well and show me about, but I did not take.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “So am I. Every event was painful and punishing. And the clothes she chose…now that I know more about color and texture, I can see her mistakes and mine.”

  Devon shook his head. “Men have it so much easier.”

  “Indeed they do. By the second week of arriving in Edinburgh, I was miserable. Meanwhile, Malcolm had met Fiona and he was gone a good deal, wooing her. I was left with Lady Strathmore and that…that was when I met Stephen.”

  “A rakehell of the first water, I take it.”

  “Worse. A rakehell of the worst water. He was unacceptable in almost every household, a fact I thought grossly unfair.”

  “Ah, words of the young.”

  “Words of the foolish. He was glib, and he spoke to me.” A faint color touched her cheeks. “I’m afraid that was all it took. I eventually thought I was in love and I agreed…I-I absconded with him.”

  “You eloped?”

  “So I thought. But apparently even that was too much for Stephen. It turned out later than he never intended to marry me, but merely wished to cause a scandal so that Malcolm would be forced to buy his silence.” Her cheeks were deep pink.

  Devon had to swallow a bitter lump of anger for the long-absent Stephen before he could speak. “We all make mistakes.”

  “Most people do not embarrass their entire family with their errors,” she replied sharply. “I was foolish enough to let practiced words muddle my thinking.”

  “Which is why you wish to think rather than feel. You believe it will keep you from making a similar error.”

  “Aye.” She met Devon’s gaze steadily. “You should know I was with Stephen for two weeks before Malcolm caught up with us. And here is where I am supposed to assure you that I am untouched. But…” Her lips thinned. “I cannot say that. I thought I loved him.”

  “Many things are done in the name of love.”

  “And many things undone. I believed his assurances that he wanted to marry me and that he would do so as soon as Malcolm gave his approval
. But of course Stephen never asked for Malcolm’s approval. Instead he asked for a thousand pounds to return me home and to keep his silence.”

  Devon had never been so angry in all his life. Never. “This bloody Stephen, wherever he is, deserves to be horsewhipped.” B’God, if anyone had dared treat his sister the way the nefarious Stephen had treated Kat, Devon would have beaten the bastard into a bloody pulp. And then, for emphasis, all his brothers would take their turns. “If I cannot horsewhip him, then I would at least see him drawn and quartered. That might serve to punish the bastard.”

  “I fear you will have to dig a hole to do that; he died two years later. I heard that he drank himself to death, though I was never certain.”

  “That is still too good for him.”

  She waved a hand. “What is gone is gone.”

  The gesture softened his anger, and he was once again assailed with the desire to hold her. He took her hand in his. “Kat, you are a passionate woman. There is nothing wrong with that.”

  She grimaced. “As Malcolm’s mother was quick to point out, I am just like my mother.”

  “Then your mother was a joyous, warm person.”

  A flicker of emotion crossed over Kat’s face, followed by a deep sigh. “Thank you. At the time, facing Malcolm’s anger and his mother’s bitter disappointment, I felt a fool.”

  “You were seventeen and alone.” Devon pulled her closer and kissed her nose. “Listen to me, Kat. You are not a bad person. You are not an evil person. You are not a confused person. You are a strong and beautiful woman. And there is nothing wrong with being passionate with someone you care about.”

  “Not everyone sees it that way.”

  “So, who are you are going to listen to? Me? Or Malcolm’s bitter mother? And let me point out that I have never lied to you, nor have I asked you to wear fashions that do not complement your gorgeous body.”

  Her lips quivered, her tears fading from her eyes. “You are a wretch to make me smile while I’m perfectly happy being miserable.”

  “It’s a gift.” He cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb over the softness of her cheek. “There. Do you have anything more to confess? Something of real import?”

  “That was important.”

  “If that was your only sin, then I feel as if perhaps I should begin making confessions of my own, for my life has not been so lily-white.”

  “Oh?”

  “I just hope you do not wish me to confess all my sins of a passionate nature. I fear my voice would give out before I could cover half of them.”

  She fingered the top button of his waistcoat. “Have there been many?”

  Before now, Devon would have answered without a twinge of guilt. After all, he had never transgressed the bounds of society. He never philandered with innocents, never compromised a lady’s reputation unless she initiated the event herself, and never ever mentioned names, even when deep in his cups.

  But somehow, looking down into Kat’s green eyes, he felt the faintest hint of a blush on his own cheeks. In all his years, Devon didn’t think he’d felt a blush more than two or three times, and all before he was fourteen. “Yes,” he finally said. “There have been that many sins in my life.”

  “Hm. And according to what you said about never staying interested more than a few months, there are going to be hundreds, perhaps thousands more.”

  Devon didn’t answer. He couldn’t. A deep loneliness gripped him. Was she right? Was he doomed to spend his life wandering from bed to bed, searching for the perfect woman, a woman he was beginning to think didn’t exist?

  Of course, Kat was close to his vision of perfection, and coming closer all the time. She was smart, attractive, capable, strong, and passionate…He frowned. Was she getting closer to his image of perfect or was he merely beginning to mold his image of perfection until it looked like Kat?

  Whatever the truth, it didn’t solve the problem of his own fickleness. His own lack of strength in committing. His own tendency to hurt those who came to care for him.

  Whatever he did, Devon did not want to harm Kat. She’d suffered enough. So it was with the greatest effort that he stood and pulled her to her feet. “The rain is lessening. It will be over soon.”

  A shadow crossed her face. “Does this mean…” Her gaze lifted to his face. “You don’t wish to be with me now that you know—”

  “No! It just means that I don’t want either of us doing anything we might regret. I enjoy your company too much to allow it to turn counterfeit.”

  “I see,” she said, disappointment deep in her voice.

  He almost laughed. That must be what he looked like every time she pulled away from him. She was simply adorable. So natural and free. And he was beginning to like spending time with her a bit too much. Thank God he was leaving soon.

  But the thought brought as much of a twinge of pain as it brought relief. He’d be gone and Kat would be left here, to live her life in the woods while more of Malcolm’s guests came to stay. Perhaps, one day, one of them would realize exactly how special Kat was, and sweep her away. It was as if, in a moment of extreme clarity, Devon could see the future.

  Bloody hell. That was exactly what would happen.

  “Devon?”

  He realized Kat was looking up at him. “Yes?”

  She wet her lips, the innocent gesture sending his senses reeling yet again. “Devon, what if I decide that I want for us to be closer? What then?”

  “Kat, if we were to get closer than we are now, that—”

  “You think my heart would be affected.”

  He paused. Then nodded. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You think I would fall in love with you if we slept together. That would be my problem and not yours.” She placed her hands on his chest, then tilted her mouth to his and encompassed him in a kiss.

  Devon’s manhood stiffened immediately. He could no more resist Kat’s lush body pressed so firmly against his. Her plump breasts were so close, just a waistcoat and a shirt away from his bare chest, her hips held intimately to his.

  He was afire, hot and wanting, his thoughts breaking apart, dissolving before the onslaught of her soft mouth, her delicious body.

  She broke the kiss, and he realized that he was once again holding her, pulling her to him. Her green eyes sparkled into his, and she said with a definite purr to her voice, “Tomorrow, we finish this.”

  He knew in that second that she was right; they would finish it. And for some reason, that thought made his very soul quake.

  Chapter 13

  Mon Dieu! I awoke to discover that my house had sprung a leak, the cook had quit due to an unfortunate incident involving a chicken liver, and my son had written to say that if I do not provide him with financial assistance forthwith, he will be forced to become the plaything of a certain elderly lady who has no hair and very bad teeth. Remind me not to wake up again.

  Madame Bennoit to her assistant, Pierre, while searching the storerooms for a particular shade of violet muslin to be used for the Countess of Bridgeton’s new ball gown

  Fiona opened the door to the green guest chamber and peered around the corner. Breathing a sigh of relief that it was empty, she quietly closed the door behind her and crossed to the window, her skirts whispering over the thick rug.

  Once there, she pushed back the curtains and lifted on her tiptoes. She could just make out St. John talking to Kat in the courtyard below.

  Fiona’s gaze traveled over Kat, her eyes widening. Poor Katherine had been caught in the sudden storm and was bedraggled and wet. Kat’s habit appeared black and sodden, her hair fell in long strands about her face, a sopping wet scarf trailed water into a puddle behind her. Devon was no better. His breeches were now indecently molded to him, his coat open, his shirt undone. By all accounts, the two should be miserable, but instead, they were laughing.

  A pang formed in Fiona’s heart at the sight. They looked so happy, just as she and Malcolm had once been. Her lips quivered at the thought. Sh
e had to win the wager with Malcolm. The only thing that could save her marriage was if she could get him away from Kilkairn, back to Edinburgh where they’d been gay and carefree. Once there, she was certain he’d forget about having children, and there’d be no more discord.

  Perhaps then he would realize he still loved her, if he did.

  Meanwhile, she was going to have to be more underhanded in her methods. She hated that, but it was necessary. Fiona eyed Kat for a long moment, deciding that while the habit looked wondrous on Kat’s generous figure, a ball gown would not be nearly as attractive, with the high waistline and voluminous folds.

  Murien was, as usual, quite right. Kat, dressed in a form-fitting habit on a horse, was one thing. Kat in a ballroom was quite another thing altogether. And as much as St. John might enjoy his flirtation, he would not tolerate a companion who could not hold her own in public.

  Fiona dropped the curtain just as a voice said in her ear, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Her heart jumped and she fell back, pressing a hand to her pounding heart. “Malcolm! Do not sneak up on me in such a manner! I thought you were St. John’s horrid valet. I vow, but the man frightens me to death.”

  Malcolm looked past her to the window. “Hm. Spying on Devon and Kat, were you?”

  “No,” she said, her cheeks heating. “I was just here to—to make certain the room was clean.”

  Malcolm didn’t look convinced. “What a lovely hostess you are, m’dear. Always worried about the health and welfare of your guests.”

  She stiffened. “I do my best, though how anyone can keep a castle clean is beyond me. It’s like scrubbing the earth, all it does is make more mud.”

  “How would you know? You’ve never scrubbed a thing in your life.”

  “’Tis not my fault. You are the one who brought me here to this horrid damp place.”

  “It’s my home, Fiona. I thought we could share that, at least.”

  There was a tiredness to his voice that twisted deep into her heart. “Malcolm, I—” She what? She loved him but would not have his children? She adored him, but could not stand the home of his birth?