The horse sniffed her pocket loudly, leaving a damp imprint, and then reached up and tugged on the white scarf that hung from Kat’s shoulders. Kat sighed as she rescued her scarf. “Oh for the love of—”

Devon chuckled. “We had better go before she nibbles off your clothing in an attempt to win another apple.” Although…nibbling off Kat’s clothes held some appeal. A lot of appeal, if he was truthful.

They were soon riding, down the path. They rode on for some time, the slight wind rustling the leaves, the sun soaking the world with light.

After a while Kat pulled up, and they trotted along beside each other. “How are things at the castle?”

Devon hesitated. He wanted to tell her, but wasn’t sure how much to confess.

She caught his look and said, “I know how it is there. I lived there once, too, you know.”

“You are right, of course. I hadn’t thought of that.” He sighed. “Things are tense, with Malcolm and Fiona glaring at one another when Fiona isn’t crying on the settee or Malcolm storming about the house. And Murien—” He stopped and shrugged.

“I know all about her, too. You should be on your guard, I heard that—” Kat’s mouth clamped shut. “You should just have a care.”

He managed a wry smile. “You may not credit this, but I have been on my guard against marriage traps since I was fifteen. I have no wish to ride out a bachelor and return an engaged man, and yet I have seen it happen to friends of mine.”

“You need not worry about it with me. I do not find the thought of marriage attractive.”

He looked at her quizzically. “May I ask why you’re so set against it?”

She shrugged, looking away. “Some people are born for that sort of thing. I find that I am not.”

“People…you mean women.”

“Like Fiona.”

“And Murien,” he added.

Kat sent him a sharp look. “Has Murien been trying to get her claws into you?”

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

Kat raised her brows.

Devon laughed. “Very well, perhaps I would say that.”

He looked so mischievously sexy that the thrum of attraction that Kat was battling suddenly swelled and sent a bolt of heat through her. She instantly repressed it, though her body ached as if she’d deprived it of something crucial.

“I apologize for prying,” Kat said. “I shouldn’t be speaking of Murien or any of your other flirts.”

“If we are going to talk about my flirts, we most definitely have to talk about yours.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Well, not now. In order for someone to find you to flirt with, they’d have to have a map to the cottage and a cudgel to get through those lads of yours.”