Silence met this suggestion. Finally, Hamish sighed and said, “I suppose ye’re right. Miss Kat needs a beau. The Sassenach is a beau.”

“But will he be good to her?” Will asked.

“He will be if we have anything to say about it,” Simon said grimly.

One by one, the men nodded. Finally, Donald looked at Simon. “We’re agreed then. The time has come to invite the Sassenach to a meetin’. And you, Simon, are the one who will do it.”

Chapter 17

My lord, I am happy to report that your son has all the makings of a fine young gentleman once he gets over an unfortunate tendency to pinch the maids.

the dashing Peter Franshawe, tutor to the Duke of Draventon’s son, to the duke during their daily progress meeting

Devon awoke the next morning to the sounds of tradesmen and hammering, carts rumbling over the drive, and the low murmur of a crowd. For a moment, he thought he was still in London, that perhaps Kilkairn Castle and all its occupants were naught but a dream.

The idea made him sit bolt upright, and it was with relieved eyes that he realized he was indeed at Kilkairn, the familiarity of the green chamber setting his mind at ease. Memories came flooding back and he turned onto his back and linked his hands behind his head, dwelling on each moment of the night before.

It had been amazing, an experience he would never forget. He’d known Kat would be a passionate lover. But he hadn’t realized how that would increase his own pleasure.

But most astounding of all was that though he’d slept with her last night, he’d awoken this morning, anxious to see her again. That was yet another first, in a series of firsts.

His gaze wandered over the room. Perhaps he should rise and see her. Had she awoken yet? Had she thought about him?

Good God, I’m acting like a lovesick puppy. He blinked, then sat upright. Love? Surely not. What he felt was merely explosive lust and…something else. Respect, perhaps. He knew of few women with Kat’s capabilities or heart. So it was not love that he felt. Not unless…

His gaze fell on the empty candle dish beside the nightstand.

What if the talisman ring had caused him to fall in love with Kat? Real love. Bloody hell, what if the ring had meant for him to fall in love with her all along and he, thinking to trick it, had merely played into its nefarious plans and—

“Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?” he muttered. The ring had no power; that was nothing but an old wives’ tale that his mother had made up to amuse six very active children. Not that it mattered, the ring was not in his possession, but someone else’s.

He frowned. Unless, of course, Tilton had found it.