“That’s just his way.”

“Hm,” he said, unconvinced. He knew a challenge when he saw one and, having a sister himself, recognized a protective stance for what it was. “Well, if you ever decide you need someone to watch over your virtue, he would be an excellent choice.” Devon looked around. They were on a wide path that seemed a great deal used. “Where are we going?”

“This is the road to the village. There’s a path off to the right that leads to a stream. We can water the horses there, if you wish.”

“Excellent,” he said. He followed her onto a narrower path, and soon the rush of moving water could be heard. Once there, he dismounted and tied Trusty to a low branch, then went to where Kat was gathering her skirts and preparing to dismount. He reached out a hand.

Kat shook her head. “Thank you, but I don’t need any help.” She got on and off a horse at least four or five times a day, and it would be very irksome indeed if she couldn’t do it without help.

“Too bad,” he said, holding out his arms. “For I insist.”

She paused, uncertain what to do. But even as she hesitated, he stepped forward. His warm hands encircled her waist, and he set her on her feet as easily as if she wasn’t an ungainly size.

He didn’t release her, though, but stood smiling at her. His hands were warm through her habit, his mouth only a few inches above hers. If she wished to kiss him, all she’d have to do was raise ever so slightly on her toes and…To her chagrin, her body softened in response. With his devilish smile and black hair, he was an incredibly attractive man, far more so than most of the visitors who tried to trick her into their beds.

But this stranger with the quick smile and flashing eyes hadn’t attempted to hold her against her will. In fact, she was quite certain that were she to move now, his hands would drop from her waist and he would make no more effort to touch her. It was that knowledge that kept her still, enjoying the almost forgotten feel of a man’s hands on her body. A feeling she’d tried her best to leave behind.

St. John smiled, a dimple flashing in one of his cheeks. “Know what I’m thinking?”

“What?”

“That you smell as good as you look. Of warm summer days and hot scones with butter.”

This man seemed made up of words; some soft, some urgent, some funny, but all of them seductive. For the first time since she’d agreed to ride with him, a genuine stirring of alarm rose in Kat’s chest. Blast it. She should have never agreed to help Malcolm keep Devon away from the castle.