“Hm. I suppose I’ll have to wait until my cousin Jane gets a look at him. She’s ever had an eye for a handsome man.”

Kat didn’t like that at all. Jane was the upstairs maid at Kilkairn, and a more lascivious woman was difficult to find.

In fact, Kat was quite certain that Jane had bedded most, if not all, of Malcolm’s guests. “I daresay St. John isn’t the sort of man Jane would like to dally with.”

Annie looked astounded. “He was breathin’, wasn’t he?”

“Aye, but—”

“Then Jane would enjoy dallyin’ with him. She’s not particular, is our Jane.”

Kat cut another potato in two, this time slicing it so thoroughly that she buried the tip of the knife in the table top. “Oh! I’m sorry.”

Annie’s hand closed over Kat’s. “Just leave the knife there. I’ll take care of the rest of these.”

“Are you certain? I can at least—”

“I’m certain. Besides, aren’t the lads waitin’ on ye?”

They would be, of course. Since housework had never held any appeal, Kat readily washed her hands in a bucket and dried them on a towel Annie kept nearby. “You’re right. We have to finish the windows by the end of this week or we’ll be good and behind.”

“There is no ‘good and behind.’ There’s only ‘behind.’ Get to work, Miss Kat.” Annie flashed a smile, her angular, usually morose face lighting. “I’d never let the lads alone for a minute. You canno’ tell what they’ll be into.”

Kat agreed, smiling in return. The men they’d gathered as glassworkers were a singular lot, all of them strong on personality. Simon had collected most of them, scrutinizing them carefully. Kat paid more than a fair wage, and she rewarded quality work, which meant the best of the best were drawn to her cottage.

Waving good-bye to Annie, Kat left. She lifted her face to the sun as she walked across the clearing to the workshop where the pleasant sound of hammering and male voices made her smile. All in all, it was a good thing she wouldn’t be going to Kilkairn Castle any more this week. She’d spent far too much time mulling over the handsome Englishman as it was, and all for no more than a little kiss. Heaven only knew what state she’d be in if he’d done more. So to preserve her own peace, she’d stay away from Kilkairn. At least until St. John was on his bonny way.

The carriage swept into the drive and pulled up in front of Kilkairn Castle much as it had done the night before. Paul leaned forward and caught a glimpse of a solitary figure standing on the front portico.

“Mr. St. John’s biting at the bit, ain’t he?” John the coachman said.