And the Bride Wore Plaid by Karen Hawkins Page B

their sisters, cousins, family friends. This was the first time someone had told him that his sister, or even half sister, would not like him. Whatever else he was, Devon was always likable.
    He opened his mouth to say something more when Malcolm unexpectedly asked about Thunder, mentioning that he’d seen the horse from the window earlier in the day.
    The conversation never returned to Kat and her self-imposed banishment to the cottage in the forest. But Devon’s mind remained firmly fixed on the woman, even more so than before. No one told him he couldn’t do something—even his own brothers knew better than that. And Malcolm’s words, as offhand as they’d seemed, had set up Devon’s back a bit. Could he win another kiss from Kat Macdonald, one earned without surprise? Without guile? The thought was intriguing.
    Across from him, Malcolm hid a smile behind his glass. Devon’s answers were becoming increasingly vague, a clear sign his mind was already dwelling on Kat. Which was good because Malcolm feared that once Devon saw Murien Spalding, he might forget about Kat. Lovely as Kat was, Murien was exquisite.
    Which was why Malcolm was determined that Devon spend as much time in Kat’s company as possible. Murien might be beautiful, but she was no match for either Kat’s force of personality or her intelligence. The problem was that most men felt with their eyes first, and their brain last.
    If his wager with Fiona worked, then Malcolm would have all he desired—his wife back at his side, a son, and Kat happily married. As for his feelings for Fiona.... Malcolm frowned. Surely he was not so fickle as his own father. The love Malcolm felt for Fiona was so vivid, so much a part of him, that if he lost it, he thought perhaps a part of him would go with it.
    Was that what his father had felt, too? A heavy weight seemed to press on Malcolm’s chest, and it was with difficulty that he turned his attention back to Devon. His friend would make a fine brother-in-law. A fine one, indeed.
    Other men might hesitate to put their sisters into the notice of a man who bluntly stated that he had no intentions of marrying, but Malcolm had three things in his favor. First, he knew that for all of Devon’s philandering ways, he was a man of integrity. All of the St. Johns were, whether they realized it or not.
    Second, there was the talisman ring. Those who didn’t know any better might scoff all they wanted, but Malcolm believed. And when all was said and done, so would Devon.
    And last, if by some miracle Devon was successful in breaking through Kat’s rock-steady defenses, her brother Malcolm would be there to make sure the right thing was done. Friend or no, if Devon compromised Kat Macdonald, he would marry her, whether or not she or he wished it.
    All told, it was a good, solid plan, and only Fiona and her be-damned sister could ruin things. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Malcolm got up to pour more brandy in his and Devon’s glasses. It wasn’t time to celebrate. Not yet. But judging from the thoughtful look on Devon’s face, things were getting off to a fine start.

    The next day, as afternoon approached, a coach and six rumbled up to the front door. As usual, the door was not answered on the first knock. But eventually the housekeeper came and let in the sole occupant, then sent a note to my lady’s room, informing her of her visitor.
    Moments later, a flurry of footsteps sounded on the landing. “Murien!” Fiona flew down the steps to the main hall, her dressing gown floating around her, a froth of pink and lace. Her slippered feet barely touched the worn runner. “You came!” She threw her arms about her sister. “And so quickly! I am so glad to see you!”
    Murien grimaced. “Fiona, my hair!” She disentangled herself and then glanced at the dusty mirror beside the front door. What she surely saw had to have pleased her, for there was not a more beautiful woman in all of Scotland. Delicate blond hair swept