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.”

Then he mounted Thunder and left, whistling all the way back to Kilkairn Castle.

Chapter 11

A disappointment in love is one of the hardest things for a woman to overcome. One would like to blame the entire male gender from youngest to oldest, for it always seems that, as a group, they have a peculiarly uniform method of failing. As if at some point, they held a meeting and simply voted to underperform en masse.

Countess of Bradford to her favorite sister, Mrs. Compton, while taking the waters in Bath

Tilton held out Devon’s riding coat. “Your coat, sir.”

Devon shrugged into it. “Thank you, Tilton. Did you call to have my horse saddled?”

“Yes, sir.” The valet sniffed. “Again.”

Devon grinned. “I am sorry if you find my habits so tedious.”