Her heart pained her at the thought and she realized that she’d been right not to spend any more time with him other than these few moments in public. She was no longer in command of her own heart; she hadn’t been since she’d realized she loved him.

A knock sounded on the cottage door and Annie bustled to open it. Simon stood on the stoop.

Kat blinked. He was dressed in his Sunday best suit of broadcloth, his hair meticulously slicked back from his forehead, his skin scrubbed fresh and clean.

“St. George’s dragon,” she said softly, blinking.

He reddened. “Aye, I look a fool. But Annie said ’twould be nice if’n ye had a way to the ball other than the old cart, so the lads and I got ye a surprise.” He stepped back and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Kat peered past him into the dark. Neal and Hamish stood awkwardly beside an old carriage. The two lads were dressed in their Sunday best to match Simon’s. Kat raised her brows, first at her lads, then at the carriage. “Isn’t that Dr. Lambert’s?”

“Aye,” Simon answered. “The doctor loaned it on the condition that the lads and I help raise his new barn next week.”

Annie nodded her satisfaction. “Off with ye now, Miss Kat. Now ye’ve a carriage like a proper lady should.”

Kat shook her head, her heart filled to overflowing. “Simon…Annie…I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say a word,” Simon pleaded. “This collar is about to choke me. Just climb in and let’s be on our way fer we’re already late.”

Thus it was when Kat made her appearance at the Strathmore ball, it was to find Fiona already looking wan and pale, Malcolm nowhere in sight, and Devon surrounded by society beauties, with Murien purring along beside him, looking like the cat who ate the cream.

Though Kat had been expecting such a thing, it didn’t make it any easier to witness. Especially since nothing had prepared her for the sight of Devon in his ballroom finery.

Dressed in black breeches that hugged his muscular legs, and a coat tailored to fit his broad shoulders without a wrinkle, he stood out among the more provincial dressers. He’d done little to his hair except comb it back, but one unruly lock hung over his forehead, giving him a slightly dissolute look.

Added to that were the faint shadows beneath his blue eyes and the look of impenetrable boredom that he was sporting, and he was easily the handsomest and most intriguing man in sight.