“How horrid,” Devon said. And it was. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his last few precious days doing anything but being with Kat.

The thought of leaving was beginning to bother him. He absently rubbed his chest where a faint pressure seemed to lurk. What was it about her that tugged at him so? At first, she’d been his haven from the lure of the ring to keep him from becoming enamored of the she-witches of the world, women like Murien, for example. But then he’d begun to enjoy being with Kat for Kat’s sake.

But that was to be expected, he supposed. After all, other than Kat, what amusement had there been at Kilkairn Castle? None. Malcolm, usually the brightest of companions, was consumed with his argument with his wife. And while riding was certainly a pleasant thing to do, Devon certainly couldn’t be expected to do that alone. So that just left Kat.

A faint sense of relief filtered through Devon. Once he left the isolation of Kilkairn and found himself home once again among the glittering ballrooms of London, he’d forget all about Kat Macdonald.

Of course, he couldn’t leave at all until he found the talisman ring. Brightening a little, he asked Malcolm if he’d discovered anything about the ring. To his surprise, Malcolm hesitated, then nodded. “I heard one thing from one of the lower housemaids, but…I need some time to make certain of the facts.”

“Take your time,” Devon said, waving a hand. “I’m in no hurry.”

Malcolm eyed him curiously. “What about your business in Edinburgh?”

“For now, I’ll send a letter and postpone the meeting. I’m certain they will not mind.” Of course, Devon’s brother Marcus would mind. But Marcus was in London, and by the time he discovered that Devon had changed the meeting date, there would be precious little he could do about it. “I cannot leave without that ring.”

Malcolm seemed to agree, but before he could say anything, another group of workmen came clomping into the hall to add to the growing stack of boxes.

“Bloody hell, what is Fiona doing?” Malcolm asked.

Devon didn’t know or care. He just wondered if Kat would be attending. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken the words aloud until he saw Malcolm’s lowered brow.

“I don’t know if she’ll come or not; she’s funny about these things. But why are you asking? Are you wishful to see her?”

Devon was wishful to see her, taste her, touch her, and do everything in between. But all he said to Malcolm was “I was just wondering, that’s all.”

“Hm,” Malcolm said, uncertain how to read the casual statement. Certainly there was a spark of interest there, only…was it good interest, or self-absorbed masculine interest?