“And I’ve noticed how completely she ignores him,” he countered.
“I think she only pretends to ignore him.”
“Well, a damn fine job of pretending she does, if I do say so. Face it, Megan, the lady isn’t interested in that Scot one little bit. And besides, she’s all but wed and our obligations at an end.”
“What?!”
“Well,” he quickly amended, “James has mentioned to me that he is seriously considering matrimony again.”
“Oh, I do hope not.”
“Megan—”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand. I think James Travers is a fine man, and he’d make anyone a fine husband.”
“I wish I didn’t hear a ‘but’ in there,” Devlin mumbled only just loud enough for his wife to hear.
She narrowed her eyes on him before continuing, “ButI’ve gotten to know Kimberly during her stay with us and, well, I think she would be happier with someone else.”
“Why, might I ask, when she and James are perfectly compatible?”
“Yes, too compatible, actually, and you know what that can lead to, don’t you?” She answered before he had a chance to, and as if he were in agreement. “Exactly, boredom.”
He rolled his eyes. “Dare I suggest it might also lead to perfect accord and hence—happiness?”
“No, you may not.”
“You are the only stubborn one in this family, brat. You know perfectly well…that…”
What began in exasperation trailed off as Devlin stared out the window. Megan followed his gaze to see that Kimberly had returned from an early morning ride with several matrons. Her youth and vitality radiated in the company of the older ladies, yet she was also looking quite splendid this morning in a new riding habit of ruby red velvet, cinched in nicely to display her fine figure.
Megan smiled to herself. She’d warned Mrs. Canterby before she got started on the lady’s new wardrobe that she wanted all of Kimberly’s clothes just a tad on the tight side, to show off her curves to advantage. And Kimberly hadn’t suspected a thing except, perhaps, that she might be putting on a little weight.
What had caught Devlin’s eye was that Howard Canston was suddenly there, waving away the groom heading for Kimberly so that he could assist the lady in dismounting. It was an old ploy in Megan’s opinion. It allowed a gentleman who was interested in a particular lady to put his hands on her, and quite firmly at that. And although most gentlemen would release said lady the very instant her feet touched the ground, some men weren’t so meticulously proper.
Howard apparently fell into that latter group, because his hands remained on Kimberly’s waist all the while she made some remark to him, and all the time it took him to answer, which was much too long to be considered proper. And that was too bad of him, as Kimberly’s riding companions, Abagail and Hilary, were known to be notorious gossips. Then again, perhaps that was his intention, to have his interest in Kimberly become common knowledge.
But that still probably wasn’t what had gained Devlin’s undivided attention. It was the Scot, who had abruptly ended his own conversation when Kimberly showed up, and had been staring at her intently ever since. He’d gone all stiff when Howard appeared at her side, and his stance had turned to outright aggressiveness when the viscount reached up to assist Kimberly to the ground. But when Howard didn’t release her immediately, Lachlan actually started toward them, and there was simply no mistaking his fury.
Devlin must have guessed the same thing Megan did, because he said, “Oh, good Lord, he’s not going to…he really wouldn’t…”
There was no point in continuing, because Lachlan did. He no sooner reached the unsuspecting couple than his fist landed in the vicinity of Howard Canston’s right eye. The blow also knocked the man off his feet. He lay flat on the ground now, apparently dazed, possibly even knocked out, because he was making no effort to get up.
Beside her, Devlin growled. Megan quickly grabbed the lapel of his morning coat to keep him from running down there in high dudgeon. The coat was pulled halfway down his arm when he pivoted toward the door.
But he did turn back to her. He even lifted a black brow, his subtle way of saying, “Let go or you’ll be dragged along with me.”
She straightened out his coat and said practically, “Now, Devlin, there’s no reason a’tall for you to get involved in that.”
“Isn’t there?” he gritted out. “Howard Canston is a guest in my home.”
“Oh, give over. You’ve been itching for a reason to give the Highlander the boot, and you think you’ve found it. But you haven’t. That disagreement involves two of your guests, three actually, and is quite personal. Not one of them would appreciate you becoming involved. Besides, that black eye isn’t going to hurt the viscount a’tall. The ladies will all ohhhh and ahhhh over him and he’ll love it.”
“That is hardly the point—”
“Perhaps, but whatisexactly the point is you have one man behaving improperly and another overcome with jealousy because of it, hardly the stuff to trouble one’s host over.”
“Ah-ha! Now comes the real reason you want me to stay out of it. You’re just delighted because you think MacGregor is jealous.”
