Her own lips twitched, but she swallowed the smile before it could blossom. “That is the problem with men like you. You lie so much and so oft that you no longer know the truth. Now if you’ll excuse me, St. John, I’ve work to do.”

She turned to go, but his hand was about her wrist before she could take a step.

“I came for a reason, Miss Macdonald. I came to ask you if you’d do me the honor of taking a ride with me.”

“A ride?” She tried to pretend that the feel of his strong hand about her wrist wasn’t making her stomach heat in a most disturbing way.

“A ride,” he repeated. He gave her a rueful, lopsided smile. “That’s all. One simple ride. I’m here alone, you know. And I’ve no place to go for three weeks. Surely you can spare a few hours of your time for something as innocuous as a ride.”

For one blessed mad moment, Kat thought of agreeing. She could almost see the two of them, riding across the fields, laughing and talking. But then reality returned and she remembered another time, another man, also pleading for nothing more than “a few hours.” At the time, she’d wondered what harm could occur in a few hours. Now she knew.

She pulled her wrist free. “No thank you, Mr. St. John. You’ll have to find someone else to pass the time with. I’m not available.” With that, pride stiffening her weakened will, she turned on her heel and quickly made her way into the shop.

Malcolm climbed the stairs to his wife’s bedchamber, his boots landing heavily on the grayish runner. He tried to ignore the small puffs of dust that swirled with each footfall and the dusty slickness of the railing beneath his hand, just as he tried to ignore the cobwebs that hung unattended from the branched chandeliers displayed overhead, and the faint musty odor that was slowly permeating his once orderly household.

Though he’d been unable to explain the entire situation to Devon, the truth was that Malcolm and his wife were not arguing. Oh no, it had progressed far beyond that. They were now at war. What had begun as a difference of opinion had escalated into something far worse.

It was a simple matter, really. He wanted children; his wife did not. Worse, he wanted to stay here, at Kilkairn, and enjoy life at the castle, while she was determined to drag him to Edinburgh.

Normally, Malcolm had nothing against Edinburgh. He rather enjoyed a taste of town life on occasion. But after Fiona had denied his request for a child and refused to stay at Kilkairn for more than two weeks at a stretch, he’d dug in his heels and refused to go anywhere. Better yet, he’d refused to allow her to travel, as well.