Free And the Bride Wore Plaid by Karen Hawkins

were a singular lot, all of them strong on personality. Simon had collected most of them, scrutinizing them carefully. Kat paid more than a fair wage, and she rewarded quality work, which meant the best of the best were drawn to her cottage.
    Waving good-bye to Annie, Kat left. She lifted her face to the sun as she walked across the clearing to the workshop where the pleasant sound of hammering and male voices made her smile. All in all, it was a good thing she wouldn’t be going to Kilkairn Castle any more this week. She’d spent far too much time mulling over the handsome Englishman as it was, and all for no more than a little kiss. Heaven only knew what state she’d be in if he’d done more. So to preserve her own peace, she’d stay away from Kilkairn. At least until St. John was on his bonny way.

    The carriage swept into the drive and pulled up in front of Kilkairn Castle much as it had done the night before. Paul leaned forward and caught a glimpse of a solitary figure standing on the front portico.
    “Mr. St. John’s biting at the bit, ain’t he?” John the coachman said.
    “So it appears.” Paul jumped down the second the coach came to a halt. He hadn’t been entirely certain he’d find the master up and about. It was only eleven, after all. But there he was, pacing the front portico, hat in hand, dressed for riding.
    As soon as Paul approached, St. John smiled. “There you are! How was the inn?”
    “Adequate, sir.” Barely. But it was better than staying at the castle.
    “Excellent. I find Kilkairn just as satisfying.”
    A smile hovered over St. John’s mouth, and Paul found himself responding. “I’m surprised ye’re up so early, sir.”
    “What? Me? Why, I love mornings!” Devon waved a hand. “Just smell the fresh air. Taste the crisp coolness of the dawn.”
    Paul didn’t point out that dawn had been hours ago. “Indeed, sir. I hadn’t noticed.”
    “You’d better wake up, Paul. Such glorious mornings do not come often.” St. John’s eyes twinkled. “Almost never, where I am concerned.”
    Paul grinned. “No, sir. Did you wish us to take you somewhere today?”
    “Actually, yes. But I’m not sure where.”
    “Sir?”
    “I want to find a house located in the woods. A smallish house, from what I understand.”
    “A small house? Ye want one to let?”
    “No, no, no! This house belongs to someone, and I wish to pay a visit.”
    Things suddenly became clear to Paul. He was beginning to smell a petticoat. “Sir, who might this house belong to?”
    “Miss Katherine Macdonald.”
    From the look on the master’s face, this was obviously a promising errand of a romantic nature. “If Miss Macdonald lives hereabouts, I daresay someone in the stable will know how to get there.”
    “Excellent idea! Furthermore, I believe I should ride there myself. All I need are the directions.”
    “Of course, sir. Shall I have the gelding saddled?”
    “Yes. I daresay Thunder could use a stretch.” Devon had paid a small fortune for the horse, and had never regretted it. Especially today when he could ride up to Kat’s cottage astride a horse worthy of carrying a knight.
    Paul bowed, then went on his way. In a relatively short time, he returned with directions, leading Thunder to the steps. The animal was huge, all gleaming black muscle and streaming mane and tail. Devon pulled on his gloves. Miss Katherine’s head was bound to be turned.
    Moments later, Devon galloped across the green fields of Kilkairn toward the forest. He was spurred forward by the memory of Kat’s lush body in his lap.
    Devon considered briefly the information Malcolm had let fall. There was an unspoken code of gentlemen that averred that one did not attempt to seduce the sisters of one’s best friends. Malcolm must have decided that any flirtation of Devon’s was nothing more than that—a flirtation, begun and ended with a kiss. Of course, Malcolm also knew that Devon would never go beyond the line of the