A group of men stood outside a long, low building. The group was small, but the men were not. They were all huge. “Giants,” Devon muttered. “One. Two. Three—good God. Seven giants.”

He pulled Thunder to a halt. He wasn’t afraid of the giants. The tall ones always fell the hardest. Still, it wouldn’t do to be rude.

He led Thunder up to them and dismounted. “Good day,” he called. “I am looking for—”

Kat stood in the doorway behind the men, dressed in the same drab gown as before. It hung gloriously on her curves, molding itself to her slants and slopes. The sunlight dappled her hair gold, muting the red and making her shine like a new guinea. Standing with the men, she looked petite.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, one hand propped on her hip.

It was hardly the welcome he wished. “I came to ask you a question.” He glanced at the men, offering a smile to offset their glares. “In private,” he added.

They didn’t move. Neither did Devon.

“I don’t wish for a word in private with y—” Her gaze wandered past him to Thunder, her eyes widening. “What a lovely horse!”

Devon hid a smile. Malcolm had been right; Kat loved horses. “Thunder is a lovely animal. And he knows it, too.”

One of the men—a red-haired, burly sort with disapproving eyes and a grim expression—said, “Miss Kat, we’ve work to do.”

“Aye, Simon,” she said, though she continued to walk toward Thunder. “How long have you had him?”

“I purchased him a year ago.”

She reached them and placed a hand on Thunder’s neck. The horse pretended to shy. She laughed and grabbed the bridle, holding him still while she patted his side. “He’s a high-strung one, isn’t he?”

“Miss Kat!” Another of the men chimed in, a large, brown-haired man with a beard and thick brows. “We’ve glass to do and time’s a-wastin’.” He glared at Devon the whole time he was speaking.

“Glass?” Devon said quietly so that only Kat could hear him.

She started to answer, then hesitated. “It doesn’t matter. A business concern, no more.” She turned to the brown-haired man. “I wish to speak to Mr. St. John. Go ahead and begin on the next brace of cuts.”

The men eyed him sullenly, apparently blaming him for Kat’s answer. Devon took the opportunity to eye them all back. It was a strange assortment. Some were brown-haired, some red; some had freckles, some didn’t. Except for their size and the glares on their faces, they were as different as the day was long.