“Sorry. My foot slipped. I meant to plant it in her arse.”

Fiona’s cheeks pinkened. “There is no need to be crude.”

“I disagree.” He met her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “I came to speak with you about this morning. You, madam, are out of hand.”

Fiona adjusted the cut-crystal decanters on the dresser. “I am no such thing.”

“I sent you a request to join me and a guest for breakfast. You refused to attend.”

She picked up the brush and began brushing her hair. “I was not yet up.”

“Then send word that you had to dress! I asked you to attend us and you should have.”

Her chin lifted. “You know how I prize my mornings.”

Mornings. The thought echoed in his mind. At one time, he’d loved mornings. Mornings when he’d come into this very room and climb into Fiona’s bed to find her warm and soft, snuggled deep beneath the blankets. A pain tweaked his heart. “It has been some time since I was allowed to share mornings with you.”

Her cheeks turned a deep pink, though her gaze met his steadily. “You know the cost of returning to my bed.”

Malcolm paused. A part of him wished to end this ridiculous standoff. To return to the warmth of their previous relationship. But he could not bend. “And you know the cost of returning to Edinburgh. I will have a son, madam.”

Fiona pulled the brush through a long strand of hair. It was thick and as brown as the forest floor, with threads of gold glimmering in the silken mass. “As before, we are at an impasse.”

Malcolm rubbed his neck where an ache was beginning to form. “Look, Fiona, I didn’t come here to argue. I came to ask that you be polite to St. John.”

“Oh!” She tossed the brush to her dresser where it clattered to a stop among a mass of crystal bottles. “When have I ever been rude to any of your guests?”

“Never. It’s just that I happen to think that perhaps St. John is interested in Kat.”

“They all are, at first. But you know what will happen. St. John will take one look at Kat and she’ll set her fist in his eye for his impertinence. And then he’ll want nothing more to do with her. Her attraction never seems to last past the first meeting.”

“This seems different.”

Fiona’s delicate brows rose. “Oh?”

“They met this morning, and if I’m not mistaken, Devon is quite interested.”

“But Kat is—” Fiona bit off the rest of the sentence.

Malcolm’s gaze narrowed. “She’s what?”

Her cheeks glowed. “Nothing.”

“My sister may be a tad unusual, but she is right as rain. Give a man a chance to get to know her, and he’ll come up to snuff. See if he doesn’t.”