undertone, “She’s a bloody witch, make no doubt. Oh, she looks well enough. Like Fiona, she exudes helpless fluttery womanliness. But unlike Fiona, Murien’s heart is made of marble, her soul so chilled, the devil fears to take her to join him lest she freeze the flames of hell.”
Devon chuckled. “Bloody hell, she can’t be as bad as all that.”
“Wait and see. Her grandest wish is to marry and marry well.” Malcolm eyed him for a moment. “You might be safe, for you’ve no title. But then there is that blasted St. John fortune ...”
“That sounds dire indeed.”
“Aye.” Malcolm shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Fiona invites her to come. Best you avoid her like the plague, that’s my advice.”
And good advice it seemed. The thought of the talisman ring still resting in the candle dish on his night table made Devon shift uneasily.
“Meanwhile,” Malcolm continued as if unaware he’d just caused Devon concern, “you might be able to help me with a small problem I have myself.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. ‘Tis about Kat, too. And since you seem to know her—”
“Barely.”
“Enough,” Malcolm continued, undeterred. “I thought you might have some insight to the problem.”
“Which is?”
“It’s become clear to me that Kat will never marry. Or so she says.”
Good for Kat, Devon thought, silently toasting her with his brandy.
“But I can’t help but think I should bring her to the notice of some potential suitors, just to be certain she’s not rushing into a life of being a stained glass master and nothing else.”
“Is she happy?”
“Doing her stained glass? Lord, yes. Do you want to see some of her work?”
Devon nodded before he could catch himself. He couldn’t help but wonder what sort of work Kat did as it might give him another connection to her.
Malcolm brightened and jumped up. “She’s magical, she is. Just look.” He set his glass on a small table, then went to the farthest window and pulled back the drapery. There at the top was a round window, hidden by the uppermost foot of curtain.
Devon rose and went to stand beside Malcolm. It was exquisite. Even with his lack of knowledge, he knew it was quality work.
The glass formed a picture of a large stag on a bluff, antlers pointed toward the sun as he stood proudly surveying the rolling grasses and forest below him. There was something about the combination of colors, the line of the bluff, and the stag’s proud head that drew the eye and kept it. “It’s beautiful.”
“She’s a master of the craft. There are twenty-six such windows at Kilkairn; old arrow awls used to fire on attackers in the early years of the castle.”
“Ah, the charm of an older residence.”
“Indeed. They used to have wood shutters over them and let in far too much cold before Kat began replacing them. I’ll have to show them all to you one day.” Malcolm dropped the curtain, and he and Devon returned to their chairs.
Devon absently took a drink of brandy. Kat Macdonald was a complex woman, and he was only beginning to realize how much. “Do you think your sister is happy living in the woods?”
“No one is happy alone.”
“She’s not alone.”
Malcolm’s face creased into a sudden smile. “Och, you met her merry lads.”
“Merry? They looked as if they wished to kill me.” The next time Devon went to the cottage, he’d arm himself with a cudgel, just in case.
“Well, they’re merry when you’re not about. I’ve seen them myself and they don’t mind me in the least. ‘Tis to strangers that they’re so forbidding.”
“I suppose they’re better protection than a pack of wild dogs.”
“Aye. That they are.” Malcolm took a drink of his brandy. “You know, if I was to mount a campaign to win over Kat, the first thing I’d do is gain the approval of her lads. Though she rules them with a velvet glove, they are a strong-willed lot and make no bones about telling her what they
Devon chuckled. “Bloody hell, she can’t be as bad as all that.”
“Wait and see. Her grandest wish is to marry and marry well.” Malcolm eyed him for a moment. “You might be safe, for you’ve no title. But then there is that blasted St. John fortune ...”
“That sounds dire indeed.”
“Aye.” Malcolm shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Fiona invites her to come. Best you avoid her like the plague, that’s my advice.”
And good advice it seemed. The thought of the talisman ring still resting in the candle dish on his night table made Devon shift uneasily.
“Meanwhile,” Malcolm continued as if unaware he’d just caused Devon concern, “you might be able to help me with a small problem I have myself.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. ‘Tis about Kat, too. And since you seem to know her—”
“Barely.”
“Enough,” Malcolm continued, undeterred. “I thought you might have some insight to the problem.”
“Which is?”
“It’s become clear to me that Kat will never marry. Or so she says.”
Good for Kat, Devon thought, silently toasting her with his brandy.
“But I can’t help but think I should bring her to the notice of some potential suitors, just to be certain she’s not rushing into a life of being a stained glass master and nothing else.”
“Is she happy?”
“Doing her stained glass? Lord, yes. Do you want to see some of her work?”
Devon nodded before he could catch himself. He couldn’t help but wonder what sort of work Kat did as it might give him another connection to her.
Malcolm brightened and jumped up. “She’s magical, she is. Just look.” He set his glass on a small table, then went to the farthest window and pulled back the drapery. There at the top was a round window, hidden by the uppermost foot of curtain.
Devon rose and went to stand beside Malcolm. It was exquisite. Even with his lack of knowledge, he knew it was quality work.
The glass formed a picture of a large stag on a bluff, antlers pointed toward the sun as he stood proudly surveying the rolling grasses and forest below him. There was something about the combination of colors, the line of the bluff, and the stag’s proud head that drew the eye and kept it. “It’s beautiful.”
“She’s a master of the craft. There are twenty-six such windows at Kilkairn; old arrow awls used to fire on attackers in the early years of the castle.”
“Ah, the charm of an older residence.”
“Indeed. They used to have wood shutters over them and let in far too much cold before Kat began replacing them. I’ll have to show them all to you one day.” Malcolm dropped the curtain, and he and Devon returned to their chairs.
Devon absently took a drink of brandy. Kat Macdonald was a complex woman, and he was only beginning to realize how much. “Do you think your sister is happy living in the woods?”
“No one is happy alone.”
“She’s not alone.”
Malcolm’s face creased into a sudden smile. “Och, you met her merry lads.”
“Merry? They looked as if they wished to kill me.” The next time Devon went to the cottage, he’d arm himself with a cudgel, just in case.
“Well, they’re merry when you’re not about. I’ve seen them myself and they don’t mind me in the least. ‘Tis to strangers that they’re so forbidding.”
“I suppose they’re better protection than a pack of wild dogs.”
“Aye. That they are.” Malcolm took a drink of his brandy. “You know, if I was to mount a campaign to win over Kat, the first thing I’d do is gain the approval of her lads. Though she rules them with a velvet glove, they are a strong-willed lot and make no bones about telling her what they
Similar Books
