Devon found himself nodding. “I imagine she didn’t take at all.”

Malcolm opened his mouth as if to say something, but then his gaze locked with Devon’s. After a charged moment, the Scotsman apparently changed his mind, for all he said was, “Aye. I’m just surprised she was so lighthearted with you this morning.”

“Lighthearted? I would hardly call her that.”

“She let you kiss her and didn’t remove your appendage. That is lighthearted where Kat Macdonald is concerned.”

The words intrigued Devon all the more. It had been a bitter pill to discover that his perfect flirt was the half sister of his host. But the fact that she was illegitimate, had apparently been shunned by society, and now lived tucked away in a cottage in the woods not far from the castle, seemed to make her the perfect object for a flirtation once again.

All Devon knew was that he needed a diversion to protect him until he removed to Edinburgh. Someone passionate enough, and challenging enough, that he would not be tempted to fall victim to an eligible woman, one with strong familial connections and a name in society…If there were any other eligible women about. So far, the castle seemed unusually free of feminine charms.

Hm. Devon wondered if he was to be blessed with peace, after all. “Malcolm, I hope I did not come at a poor time. I’d hate to bother you when you’ve other guests about.”

Malcolm looked up from his plate with apparent surprise. “Other guests?” He glanced about them, Devon’s gaze following. While the dining room didn’t suffer from the obvious neglect that tainted the rest of the castle, it was still far from perfectly tended. The rugs could do with a beating and two dusty cobwebs hung in opposite corners.

“We used to entertain weekly,” Malcolm said. “But not as often now that—” He gestured towards the cobwebs. “Now only a few of Fiona’s closer friends come to visit, though rarely overnight. I only wish Fiona’s sister, Murien, wouldn’t come so often. She’s a—”

The door opened and the aged footman returned, face flushed as he huffed and puffed. The footman come to a wheezing halt beside Malcolm and cleared his throat. As this rather noisy and elaborate process seemed to steal all the man’s available air, he didn’t speak for quite some time.

Malcolm gave an explosive sigh. “For the love of St. Brennan! Just tell us what Her Ladyship said!”

The footman looked disapprovingly at Malcolm and wheezed out a rather breathless “Yes, my lord. Her Ladyship says she will not be joining you for breakfast.”

Malcolm frowned. “That’s it?”

The aged footman’s color faded to a more pasty tone, his breathing easing somewhat. “I believe so, my lord.”

“You believe? In other words, you don’t remember?”