Free And the Bride Wore Plaid by Karen Hawkins Page A

acceptable, not without the permission and encouragement of the lady in question. What stung was that for some reason, Malcolm seemed to think his sister was immune to Devon’s particular charms— that Kat would want nothing more from Devon than a kiss.
    But Devon was not so sure; Kat seemed to possess a very passionate nature. Whatever the truth, it would certainly take more than a kiss to ease his lustful thoughts of Kat Macdonald, and to satisfy the curiosity and heat he’d seen burning in her eyes.
    But the real beauty of it all was that the more time Devon spent with Malcolm’s ineligible sister, the less chance there was that Devon might fall victim to the talisman ring’s magical powers.
    With Kat and her ruined reputation, Devon was completely safe, no matter how far their flirtation went. More proof that he was smarter by far than any ring ever made. Smiling to himself, he urged Thunder farther into the woods, certain he was on his way to dislodge an evil fate.

     

Chapter 5
It’s really quite easy. As soon as you see the fires of wrath in their eyes and know your time has come, you begin the seduction. A brush of your hand across theirs when they reach for the crème pot. A heated glance. A lingering appreciation for how they look... smell... taste. Just try it, sir. I’ve been married fourteen years, and not once has she managed to ring a peal over my head without stammering and blushing like a school girl.
    Viscount Mooreland to his uncle, the Earl of Stempleton, whilst viewing the horses for sale at Tattersall’s

    Devon had always believed that one’s greatest strength was also one’s greatest weakness. Such was his case, anyway. From the time he’d been a child, he had never been known for his lack of persistence.
    Once, when he had attained the ripe age of five, his parents had left for a brief visit to London. Devon had begged to go with them, but had been refused.
    Looking back now, he could see that perhaps his parents had desired some time alone. Even though they employed a squadron of governesses and tutors, six children had to have been a drain on their marital reserves.
    But at the time, all Devon had known was that he was being left behind. Thus he’d waited until the trunks for the upcoming journey were sitting in the front hall and he’d opened the largest one, removed one of his mother’s voluminous gowns and stuffed it beneath the settee in the front sitting room, and then paid his brother Chase a shilling to close the trunk and lock him in.
    Moments later an unsuspecting footman had carried the trunk to the waiting coach and strapped it on the back. Neither Devon nor Chase had thought of such mundane things as food or air. Within thirty minutes of rumbling out of the long drive, Devon had begun to realize the shortfalls of his plan.
    He became increasingly hot, the air stifling and then thin, and all the while he was aware of a horrid need to relieve himself.
    By the time the first hour had passed, he’d begun to panic and tried to gain the attention of the coachman, but the noise of the creaking, swaying coach and the clopping of the horses concealed the thumping of his small fists on the trunk lid. No one heard him.
    It was a good thing the trip to London was a mere three hours, though by the time Devon was discovered, he was ill from the heat and the confinement. It took almost two days before he could get out of bed.
    Of course, he’d been thankful for his convalescence as it prevented him from receiving the switching that should have been his. As his father would later say when the incident was brought up, “Devon’s determination will be both the making and the breaking of him. God only knows which.”
    Now here he was, not in London, but in a clearing in the forest, looking at what had to be Kat Macdonald’s cottage, and that same determination that had caused him to ride in a trunk all the way to London was urging him forward.
    The sun shone on the house and lit the