“I’ve nothing against your sister, you know that. It’s just that a man like St. John would be more comfortable with someone like…oh, Murien.”

“Your sister?” Malcolm almost stuttered.

Fiona flounced in her seat. “You have never liked Murien!”

“That’s not true—”

“Oh, just admit it!”

He paused, fighting to control the tight ball of anger that burned in his stomach. “I’ve never been fond of Murien and well you know it, though that has nothing to do with us.”

Fiona met his gaze a moment. “Except that it is yet another way in which we differ. I vow, but I am sick unto death of our squabbles. If only there was a way to—” She paused, a light coming into her eyes. “Malcolm.”

“Aye?” he answered, a faint quiver of alarm dancing up his neck. “What is it?”

The look she turned on him was almost blinding in its luminance. “I know what we need to do to end this argument between us!”

“What?”

“You and I will make a wager. I shall invite Murien here and we shall see whose sister is more to Mr. St. John’s liking.”

Malcolm frowned. Murien here? Under his roof? “I don’t think I could stand it.”

“There is nothing wrong with her!”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

“At least my sister knows how to dress.”

“You have me there. Kat has never been one to toss her good sense after fashion.”

“No,” Fiona snapped, “just her virtue.”

Malcolm’s jaw tightened until it ached. “My sister may have made some mistakes in her youth, but you have to admit that she lives circumspectly now.”

“Circumspect? You call living with seven men in the middle of a forest—”

“They are her apprentices. I have explained that time and again.”

“Of course,” Fiona said tightly. “Do we have a wager then? My sister against yours.”

Malcolm considered this. He was so dispirited by their disagreements. Perhaps this would be a way to regain at least a little of his peace. “Done,” Malcolm said. “And the wager?”

“If I win, you will cease pestering me to have a child and we will spend every season for the next five years in Edinburgh.”

“The whole season?” he sputtered. “For five years?”

“All of it. And you will spare no expense.”

“That’s a steep wager.”

“Afraid you’ll lose?”

He ground his teeth. “No, I am not afraid to lose. I know Kat, and there are things about her that you wouldn’t understand. Things that make me certain she’ll win hands down over your whey-faced sister.”

“Oh!” Fiona stood in a faint rustle of silk. “Don’t you dare speak ill of my sister! At least Murien has manners. Kat goes about in clothes covered in wood curls and smelling of burned metal.”