“Oh!” Fiona gave an excited hop. “That’s exactly why I asked you to visit!”

“Yes, well, I can only stay one night. I am on my way to Duart to stay with the Macleans.”

“Can’t stay? But—” Fiona bit back a sigh. “I really wanted you to stay at least a week. I need you to stay at least a week.”

“Don’t look so dispirited! We still have a good portion of the day together.” Murien stripped off her gloves and looked around for the butler, the expression in her green eyes hardening. All she found was an elderly footman who stood half asleep on his feet.

Murien walked up to him. “You, whatever your name, pray put these in a clean place. And I hope you’ve washed your hands sometime in the last few days. The last time I left my gloves here, they looked as if someone had stored them up the chimney.”

The old man blinked a few times, as if confused by her instructions. But after a moment, he bowed and took the gloves with but one finger and thumb. “Yes, miss.”

Fiona barely waited for him to turn away before she took Murien’s hand in hers. “Perhaps once I explain things, you will change your mind and stay for a while.”

“As much as I enjoy chatting with you, I simply cannot remain out here in the middle of nowhere without getting a headache. It’s the quiet, I think. It won’t let me sleep.”

“Yes, but—” Fiona bit her lip. How was Murien to ensnare Devon St. John if she wouldn’t stay at Kilkairn? That was if Murien could be persuaded to make the effort at all.

The truth was, though Fiona had been brazenly confident in front of Malcolm, she wasn’t sure she could count on her sister’s cooperation in this venture. Murien was notoriously sure of her own worth and had turned down every offer of marriage that had been made to her. From beneath her lashes, Fiona regarded her sister for a covert moment. There really wasn’t a more beautiful woman in all of Scotland. And Murien knew it, too; her confidence radiated from her like a beacon.

Filled with pride, Fiona hugged her sister yet again. “Come up to my room. I’ll have tea brought and I’ll explain why I asked you to visit.” Talking rapidly, Fiona led the way upstairs.

Moments later, they were seated before the fire in Fiona’s chambers. She poured some tea for her sister and handed her the cup. “How you are, Murien? Are you well?”

Murien’s brows rose. “Don’t I look well?”

Fiona sensed a rebuke and she instantly flushed. “Of course you look well! You look lovely—radiant, in fact. You always do, you know. Even when we were children, you would—”