As Katherine Samuelson trudged up Princes Street, she cursed her best friend, Emma MacNeil, and she cursed the sleet that slanted down, making every step a chore. Kathy tucked her chin to hold the handle of her umbrella, and balanced bags on each shoulder while dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her. Edinburgh was supposed to be a high point of this vacation. “It will be a life-changing experience,” Emma had said. “I can see it perfectly.”

“Not one of your visions,” Kathy had answered, trying to toss back her hair – but her dark reddish curls only bounced.

“I am a seer, you know that.” Emma’s own head toss had been much more successful, since her sandy blond hair was a long straight fall. “I have the famous MacNeil sight, and I see a man …”

“Emma, the way you look, I’m surprised you don’t see a whole army of men.”

“A man in a kilt.”

At that point, Kathy had laughed so hard that Emma had sulked until she apologised. They’d met when Kathy had answered an ad for a roommate, but since then Emma had gone through a dozen boyfriends and was now engaged.

Most of Emma’s predictions were easy to ignore. Occasionally, however, Emma was unnervingly right, like the time that she’d begged Kathy not to go to a Christmas party that ended in tragedy when the holiday decorations caught fire. So Kathy considered this outlandish vision. Besides, she wanted to go on a trip with her friend. She scrimped and saved for over a year. She sublet the space in her tiny knitting shop – Stitch in Time – to a quilter to hold classes.

When Emma cancelled at the last minute, Kathy was furious. Emma had said, “I’m sorry, but everything’s gone all on the wonk with Tommy and if I leave I’m afraid it will be over.”

“We’ll be over if you don’t come.”

“You don’t mean that. You want me to be happy.”

“You’ll be happy when you find your man in a kilt.”

“I didn’t see Tommy’s horrible knobby knees in my vision. Then I had the vision again and this time you were there in a sapphire blue coat. Don’t be mad, Kitty Kat.”

“Don’t call me that. In fact, don’t call me at all.”

What was supposed to be a grand adventure had turned into a lonely journey getting lost and fending off predatory men who were attracted to the solitary woman with gleaming mahogany curls. Kathy had downgraded all her hotel reservations to save money because she lived by her parents’ credo: waste not, want not. Now, she was exhausted, cold, and lost again as she approached a lavish hotel she had already passed twice. At least she had a warm coat.

The ultramarine lambswool coat had been her one extravagance. When she’d seen it in the window of a boutique on the Avenue de l’Opéra, she’d stopped to stare. The A-line style was so classic that the coat would always be chic. Emma had said that she’d seen a sapphire blue coat in her vision. It was a crazy thing to do, but Kathy bought it.

She had just paused to adjust her bags, when a sleek black Citroen sedan pulled up to the curb in front of the hotel ahead.

A doorman with an enormous umbrella escorted a couple out of the hotel as a parking valet jumped out of the car and opened the passenger door for a beautiful blonde woman. Then the parking valet rushed to hold the other door for a tall dark-haired man in a black trench coat.

When the tall man glanced at the valet, Kathy saw that he had high cheekbones, a long strong nose, dark eyes and a firm jaw. He was the sort of man who drove expensive new cars, dated beautiful blondes, and stayed in luxury hotels.

Kathy yearned for that confident, gorgeous, successful kind of man, that kind of life, one of elegance and luxury. She forgot about her exhaustion as she watched him get into the car. Then the car drove off and suddenly swerved into a puddle, splashing up a wave of filthy gutter water as it passed her.

Kathy looked down and saw the huge muddy splotches covering one side of her exquisite coat. She released the umbrella from under her chin, dropped her tote and said, “No, no, no!” Then she gathered her things up, her bags banging against her sides, and splashed up to the hotel.

A doorman tipped his hat to her. “Morning, madam.”

“That man splashed my coat when he drove by! You saw him. Who is he?”

The doorman looked at her with sympathy and his shoulders went up a little. “Apologies, but I don’t know.”

Before Kathy had been too embarrassed to ask at the hotel for directions, but now she stormed inside, her wheeled case rattling behind her. She saw a concierge at a side desk and went directly to the woman, who smiled pleasantly, noticed the dirty coat, and said, “Good day. May I help you?”

“Hello. One of your guests just ruined my coat. It’s brand new and … and he just left without even looking. Your doorman saw it all.”

“I apologise for your misfortune,” the concierge said in a calm, quiet voice.

“Thanks. If you could give me his name and contact info. He just left here with a blond woman and he was wearing a black trench.”

“I’m sorry, but we’re not at liberty to discuss guests’ private information.”

Kathy blinked back tears. “It’s a very expensive coat, the best thing I own …”

The manager dropped her voice and said, “We cannot discuss our guests, but if someone was not a guest … I think I recall the gentleman you mean. I believe he came for a meeting in one of the conference rooms, but I’m afraid I don’t know who he is.”

Kathy finally noticed her opulent surroundings and realized that her bags, her coat and even her hair were dripping on the fine carpet. “Maybe it can be dry-cleaned,” she said sadly.

“I’m sure it can.” A few minutes later, Kathy had a cleaner’s business card as well as a map with directions to her economy hotel.

The hotel was a narrow building on a narrow street. The manager led her to a tiny, but clean room on the third floor with a cramped bathroom and a shallow armoire. Kathy noticed the effort that had been made to make the room comfortable: an electric kettle and assortment of teas on a side table, a mixed bouquet of bright flowers in a vase, and pretty prints of the city.

The manager said, “Pity you’re visiting in this draich. You look like you’ve got the worst of it.”

“Someone splashed my coat when he drove by.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She made a tching sound.

As soon as she was alone, Kathy took off her coat and examined the muddy splotches. She spread it out on the bed and used a wet facecloth and a bar of soap to dab at the marks. It didn’t take long for Kathy to realize that the muddy water had contained motor oil and no amount of effort would remove the stains.

She sat on the thin mattress and wept. She could feel sorry for herself, or she could enjoy her holiday. Kathy wiped her eyes and decided to make the very best of today.

After all, it was her twenty-ninth birthday.

She unpacked and put all her things away neatly, because her mother had taught her, “A place for everything and every thing in its place.” Then Kathy made a cup of tea and drank it while studying a guidebook and a map.

When she felt revived, she put on her stained coat and went out to explore the city on foot. The rain had let up to a steady drizzle, and Kathy did what she enjoyed, stopping in the knitting shops and examining the marvellous goods. Even though she was still mad at Emma, she bought a robin’s-egg blue cashmere cardigan for her. She saw a pair of chocolate brown lambskin gloves and she thought of how her mother would have liked them.

Kathy’s lunch was a packaged salad that she bought in a grocery store and quickly ate outside under an overhang. It wasn’t something she normally did, but the trip wasn’t normal for her either, and she felt unfettered and a bit reckless, like a well-behaved pet that discovers an open gate.

Then Kathy strolled to the National Museum and spent an hour viewing the fossils and artefacts. She kept returning to a richly textured painting of three sheep on a hilly landscape in a place called Orkney. She felt a sense of peace and happiness when she gazed at the rugged hills and stormy sky.

Darkness came early and Kathy returned to her hotel and rested. Because of the occasion, she’d kept her reservation for dinner at one of the city’s best restaurants. Emma had promised to treat her, and now Kathy missed her lunatic friend and thought of how Emma would have made her laugh about the careless jerk.

Kathy felt better after a shower. Her everyday clothes were cotton, so it was a treat to dress up. She began with her undergarments, wearing a black silk bra and panties. She hated the feel of nylon on her skin so now she carefully pulled on black silk thigh-high stockings with stretchy lace tops.

Then she put on a teal silk-knit jersey wrap-around dress with a deep v-neckline that accentuated her full breasts, made her waistline smaller, and flowed smoothly over the generous curve of her hips. To counteract her winter pallor, she used dramatic dark shadow and kohl around her golden-hazel eyes, layers of mascara, and deep rosy lipgloss.

She slid her feet into black pumps with teetering narrow heels and added a lustrous gold cuff bracelet and earrings. Her ex-boyfriend had given them to her as a birthday present when she was twenty-three. It seemed like a long time ago.

When she looked in the mirror, she saw a sophisticated and sexy woman, not the pretty, but rather ordinary girl-next-door she really was. She grabbed her ruined coat and went downstairs.

The hotel manager said, “Why aren’t ye bonny! Special occasion, is it?”

“Yes, it’s my birthday. Can you tell me if there’s an internet café nearby?”

“Happy birthday! You can use the computer in our business centre, sweetie.”

The business centre was a closet with a narrow desk under the staircase. When she checked her email, there were several birthday greetings, including a dozen from Emma. All but one of them read “Happy birthday!”

The last message was odd, even for Emma, who’d written “Carpe diem. Dare to be someone different today … let your wicked side out. I saw it in a dream. Also, I have arranged a special birthday treat for you! A visit to my mother’s cousin’s cousin’s historic castle. Will send details tomorrow. Cancel all other plans. Am I forgiven?”

Kathy smiled and wrote, “Weather is dreadful and so are you. Wish you were here. I’ll reserve the date.” After thinking for a second, she added, “Forgiven for what? Love, K” and sent it off.

Kathy asked the manager to call a cab, and the woman said, “You cannae go out in that coat.” She went to the office closet and brought back an old-fashioned moss-green mohair coat. “It’s warm and the colour suits. It’s been left here for years, so keep it.”

Kathy took the unexpected birthday present and said, “Thank you! You’re too kind.” A few minutes later, she was in the back seat of a small warm car, dashing up the hill towards Edinburgh Castle. The wet surfaces reflected shop lights and street lights, making the city look magical.

The restaurant was set beside theatres and bustling with Friday evening excitement. Kathy inhaled marvellous aromas as she took off her coat and left it in the cloakroom. As Kathy was escorted to her seat, men turned to watch, while women gave her more subtle once-overs.

The maitre d’ showed her to a table in a corner. It was too dark to study her guidebook here, but at least she could observe others. A waiter soon glided over with a menu. The prices were awfully high, though, and she was mentally converting pounds to dollars when the maitre d’ returned with a concerned smile.

“Yes?” Kathy said, looking up.

“I apologise for disturbing you, but we inadvertently doubled-booked a table and I thought you might not mind, considering the circumstances …” He spoke with the precise accent of a BBC Scotland announcer.

“Mind what?” She hoped that he wasn’t going to ask her to move outside to the covered terrace, where latecomers huddled by patio heaters, because she wasn’t going to move, not on her birthday.

“I thought you might not mind sharing your table with another guest.”

Kathy wondered how she would have felt if her table had been given away. “Of course not,” she said, hoping that the other guest wasn’t talkative or rude.

“Thank you! You’ve saved me. Allow me to offer you a complimentary drink?”

“I think a glass of champagne would be nice.”

“Only a glass?” said a deep voice with a warm soft brogue. “Why nae a bottle?”

Kathy turned her head and saw a gorgeous man – the careless man who had ruined her coat. He looked at the maitre d’ and said, “The ’99 Ayala,” and the maitre d’ replied, “Excellent choice, sir,” and left.

The man seemed bigger up close – about six foot three – and those dark eyes were blue as they caught her own glance and then travelled down the neckline of her dress to the curves of her breasts. One corner of his wide, well-shaped mouth lifted in appreciation.

Kathy felt her cheeks grow hot in anger and self-consciousness and watched him seat himself across the small table. His hair was deep chestnut, a little long and brushed back from a widow’s peak, and his shoulders were wide in an inky black-blue suit. He wore a pale blue shirt that was open at the collar.

A waiter came over quickly, handed the man a menu, and left. The man smiled at Kathy and said, “Thenk ye for sharing yer table.” His voice was as beguiling as a fresh breeze.

“It’s no problem.” Kathy picked up her menu and tried to focus on the descriptions.

“A’m Calder, an ye …?”

She looked up and right into the dazzling eyes of the man who had ruined her beautiful coat. Then she remembered Emma’s advice: dare to be someone different today, be wicked. “I’m Kat.”

“A pleasure to meet ye, Kat,” he said, and the name sounded right to her, the sort of name a sophisticated world-traveller would have. “Please allow me to buy dinner in exchange for depriving you of yer tranquillity.” He rolled his r’s luxuriously, as if he had all the time in the world to talk to her.

Kathy was going to decline, and then thought – be wicked! “I do enjoy my solitude, so I’ll accept your offer.”

“You’re an American?” he asked, clearly pronouncing “you’re”.

“Yes, but I’ll try not to hold it over you.” She glanced at his hand and saw that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band – but some men didn’t.

He grinned. “You have that American look of self-sufficiency. I’ll try to speak so you can understand me.”

The waiter came by with their champagne and an ice bucket on a stand. Kathy kept her eyes on the menu as the waiter went about opening the bottle and Calder tasted it. She was now looking at the most expensive items on the menu so that she could at least eat part of her loss back.

“Would you like to order now?” the waiter asked.

Kathy – no, Kat, said, “Yes, I’ll start with the smoked salmon. Then I’ll have the halibut with mussel sauce. For dessert, I’d like the chocolate mousse with sorbet.”

Calder snapped the menu shut and said to the waiter, “I’ll have the same.”

“Sir?” asked the waiter, puzzled.

“Also a bottle of still water,” Calder said. “We’ll finish with the Highland Park. Thanks.”

When the waiter left, she let herself gaze boldly at her host, but she couldn’t help smiling.

He lifted his glass and said, “Guid health.” She lifted hers, too, and said, “Cheers.”

“It’s unusual to see a woman confident enough to dine alone.”

“Is it?” She had been about to tell him about her coat, but she didn’t want to ruin his image of her now with a vague recollection of someone trudging in the rain with an umbrella under her chin. She took a sip of her champagne and looked at him over the top of the flute.

“Certainly. Women always seem to travel in herds, or with some girlfriend. If they go to a café, they hide in a book,” he said. “I’m glad you’re not hiding your lovely face.”

It had been a very long time since a man had flirted with her, and no man this handsome had flirted with her since before … before she made the mistake of wasting five years of her life with mundane Will Sloat, who decided that he needed “space” and actually told her, “It’s not you. It’s me,” before moving out.

Kat just nodded her head slightly, accepting Calder’s compliment.

“Are you on holiday or do you live here?” he asked.

“I’m travelling. I started in Paris, went to London, and now I’m here in Scotland.”

“Travelling by yourself, Kat?”

“Yes, unless you’re going to tell me that most women vacation in pairs, or on guided tours.”

Their first course arrived and the waiter refilled their champagne, even though Kat didn’t remember finishing her glass.

“I must seem terribly old-fashioned to you,” Calder said. “Actually I admire independence in a woman.”

“I’m ecstatic to have earned your approval,” she said, and he laughed. “What about you? Do you usually intrude on strangers’ tables and order whatever it is they order?”

“Never before, Kat, but the experience is proving so delightful that I believe I’ll make a habit of it.”

Now she was the one who laughed. As they began sampling the delicious and duplicated dishes, she said, “Do you live here, or are you visiting?”

“I’m here on business for a few days.”

She noticed that he didn’t say where he lived, and she could guess what kind of business he’d have with a beautiful woman in an expensive hotel.

Kat took a bite of the silky smooth smoked salmon. “What’s your business?”

“I’d rather not blether about it now, because it’s nothing but trouble. How about you? Do you have a business, or does your husband want to keep you at home for himself?”

Kathy’s knitting business was in a corner of a shared artspace and she was constantly anxious that the rent would be increased. She loved her store, but it was far from her dream business, so she replaced the reality with the dream. “I live in the Northern California countryside and raise sheep and goats. It’s very beautiful and I have week-long retreats there for women … and the occasional man … to learn knitting techniques and needlecrafts. My next step is a course in hand-dying wool and I’m ordering looms.”

Calder’s eyes twinkled. “Are you now? And I thought I was old-fashioned.”

“The old is new again, Calder. Teens are excited to carry on traditions.”

“Do you do this all on your own?”

She did everything on her own, including repairing the plumbing and installing the light fixtures. “Heavens, no, I have staff. Things are going so well that I’m going to expand my retreats. I’ll have chefs to teach cooking sessions, authors to lead writing workshops, and vintners and cheesemakers to have lectures and tastings.”

His eyebrows knitted together and, maybe it was the champagne, but Kat thought she’d never seen such a charming expression. He said, “What an interesting occupation. Do you have classes year-round?”

“Oh, yes! In summer, we sit under the trees and work for hours before all cooking a meal together. We make jams and jellies from the fruits grown on the property. In the winter, we gather in the great room, with a fire in the hearth keeping us warm, and bake bread and make stews. We drink local wines, play the piano, and sing.” Kat could describe it because she’d envisioned the scenes hundreds of times. “People come back year after year.”

“Are there other retreats like this in the States?”

“There are weekend retreats and even cruises, but I think my place is special,” she said. “But I don’t want to bore you.”

“You aren’t boring me in the least, Kat. I think your country estate must be quite civilized, because I can’t imagine you chasing goats out of the lounge.”

Kat ran her fingers up and down the stem of the champagne flute. “We’re talking about me again.”

“It’s become my favourite subject.”

They ate quietly for several minutes and finally the waiter brought their second courses, trying to find room for them on the small tabletop. When he had gone, Calder said, “You can ask me anything you like.”

“You can tell me whatever you choose.”

He considered and then said, “My mother and aunts knit beautifully. Although when I was a boy, I didn’t appreciate wearing handmade jumpers and long scarves. I wanted to wear what the other lads were wearing, track jackets and anything with sports logos.”

“You were a heathen.”

“To be sure. I would purposely fall from my bike or skateboard hoping to destroy things, but then my mother would mend them, which made things worse. My mates would all laugh at me.”

So Calder was a poor boy who’d made good in the big city, she thought. A boy who didn’t understand thriftiness and gifts made with love. A careless boy who had become a careless man.

“School?” she asked.

“Hated it, but I did exceedingly well, because when I do anything, I do it exceedingly well. Anything.”

Calder’s upper body didn’t move, but Kat felt his leg against her own, making her every nerve jump. It was only the lightest, possibly accidental touch, but Kat didn’t think so when she saw the smile playing on his lips. She was suddenly thinking of what else he did quite well.

“Calder, if you need more room for your legs, you can set your chair back.”

“My legs are comfortable where they are. I thought yours might be cold,” he said, pressing his leg more boldly against hers.

His flattery and confidence excited and confused her, because he was so very beautiful, and she was just … “If you think you’re entitled to anything because you’re picking up the bill, you’re wrong. I came here expecting to pay for my own meal, not to trade favours for it.”

“I wasn’t implying …”

She took a bite of the delicious fresh halibut and enjoyed his chagrined expression. “It’s all right,” she said.

“You’ll forgive me?”

“I’m forgiving a lot of people today. Yes.”

“Who else needs forgiveness?”

“A friend who told me I should come on this trip. She claims to have ‘the sight’, and said I’d meet a man in a kilt.”

“Don’t mock ‘the sight’. Many women in my family have it.” He grinned roguishly. “I have a kilt.”

“So does every man in every tourist shop here.”

Sighing dramatically, he said, “You’re making me feel very unappreciated.”

“I’m sure your ego will recover.”

“It will if you’ll still allow me to pay for the meal.”

“Yes, but only because I feel sorry for you, Calder,” she said, and they laughed together.

Dessert came and their conversation became lighter, although Kat was always aware of his long legs under the table, his blue eyes, and the tension between the two of them. Between Calder and confident, sexy Kat.

She’d wondered what he’d ordered last and, as it turned out, the Highland Park was a single-malt scotch. Calder lifted his glass to her and said, “Most welcome sunshine on a chilly day. Hold it in your mouth and let it bloom inside.”

Even though he hadn’t said anything improper, Kat thought it sounded dirty. Maybe it was her imagination, which kept thinking of what those large hands would feel like on her skin. She took a sip of the drink and tasted an almost honeyed sweet note, faint smoke and peat, orange blossoms, unlike anything she’d had before. “It’s delicious.”

“The distillery is in Orkney. The islands are said to be inhabited by trows.”

Orkney sounded familiar, and she remembered the marvellous painting she’d seen. “What are trows?”

“Like leprechauns, though not as nice. Evil hideous little buggers that cause naught but mischief in the night.”

“Have you ever seen one?” she teased.

“My mother says that I am one,” he answered. “A giant trow baby, so big that they feared what I would become, so the trows stole away her own buey bain and placed me in his crib, which is why I’ve a passion for music and song, like my true wicked kin. They say that at the weetin’ of my heid,” and here Calder tapped his head to show her what he meant, “I toasted my father and asked him for a proper tipple.”

She laughed in a way she hadn’t since she was young. “Your suit is camouflage then, like your brogue, which comes and goes. You’re trying to pass as a civilized human being, but there’s still some wildness in you.”

“Perhaps you can domesticate me, Kat.”

“I’m sure other women have tried and failed.”

He winked and said, “There’s always the first time.” He held his glass so that it caught the light from the candle on their table. “This is the same amber as your eyes, Kat.”

“Does your wife know you flirt like this?”

“If I had a wife, she’d know. Would you like to marry me?”

“Not now. Ask me later.” She took another sip of the scotch and felt tingly and sexy.

“Then would you like to hear some music? Or if you prefer some place posh …”

“I’d like to go where the locals go.”

She was aware of the maitre d’s satisfied glance as they left together. Calder helped her into her coat and stared at her oddly when she had it on.

A valet brought Calder’s car, and Kat had a moment of trepidation as Calder held the door open for her. “You won’t kidnap me, will you?”

If he had answered, “You can trust me,” the catch phrase of every sleazy man she’d ever met, Kathy would have said goodnight and caught a taxi. But Calder said, “Nae, lassie, because I think you’ve a taste for the finer things, and I’m still a bit of a heathen.”

Calder drove to an outlying neighbourhood and turned into a car park. “If you don’t like it I’ll take you back to your hotel, or wherever you wish to go.” He got out and opened the car door for Kat, and then led her down a lively street of shops, cafés and restaurants. Music thump-thumped outside the pub, and Calder paid for their entrance, took her arm, as he guided her inside the packed room.

A rollicking bar band blasted out a brash folky-rock song, and they found space standing against a wall. Calder leaned down to speak into her ear and she could smell his faint woody aftershave. He said, “Is this acceptable?”

Kat looked up into his dark eyes, smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

He shrugged out of his jacket and helped her off with her coat, and then he got drinks for them. Kat quickly drank a bottle of water, hoping to clear her head because she felt dizzy from the music, Calder beside her, the heat of the room, the loud voices. He said, “Will ye dance wi me?” and drew her into the melee. She felt the thrill of dancing wildly on a Friday night in an exciting city with a sexy man.

One song led to another and another and then there was a slow number, and Calder pulled her close. When he looked into her eyes, her breath caught. She felt the muscles in his back and the slight dampness of the shirt clinging to his skin; his hand on her lower back, his fingers extending down to her hip.

When the song was over, he kept his arm around her waist and said, “It’s hot in here.” He grabbed their coats and led her out a side door and into a narrow dark alley. The drizzle and chill night air were delicious on her hot skin, and Calder pulled her tightly to him and bent down to kiss her.

It wasn’t a tentative, gentle, first-date kind of kiss. It was firm and hungry, an uncivilized, dangerous kiss, and she opened her mouth and felt his tongue slide in against hers. He tasted of scotch and his hands dropped lower on her hips, clutching her to his own.

She’d reached into his shirt, feeling the hot skin beneath, and his hands were moving now, too. She had the giddy sense that someone would catch them like this, kissing as madly as teenagers.

His mouth went to her ear, her neck, the curve of her breast, and he said huskily, “Kat … do you want to go to your hotel?”

She thought of the tiny room, the thin mattress, and said, “Where are you staying?”

“Close by. No one is there.”

“Let’s go,” she said, which was crazy because she never did things like this. Or Kathy never did. Kat was laughing with Calder as he took her hand and they rushed to a nearby residential block off the main road.

The townhouse looked very expensive and old, with steps leading to two glossy black doors. Calder unlocked one and he held Kat’s hand as they went upstairs. He flicked on a lamp when they reached the landing. She saw a wide dining room that opened to a living room with polished hardwood floors, creamy walls, modern furniture and abstract oil paintings.

Calder turned to her and ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. She leaned into his caress, and he said, “You’re quite beautiful, you know, like this, your hair every which way and your makeup smudged and looking like a wild creature. A very beautiful wild Kat.”

He kissed her as they went down the hall. She saw the door to the bathroom, and said, “I’ll just be a moment.” When she was alone and the door closed, she took a minute to wonder if this was what she wanted to do, and the answer was yes, yes, yes. She freshened up, but left her hair as it was, a mass of corkscrews and frizz.

When she came out, she saw light from an open doorway and went to it, saying, “Calder?” Fragrant beeswax candles in pewter candlesticks cast a soft glow on a stylish room in ivory and sea-green with black minimalist furniture. Calder smiled at Kat she went to him. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing it gently.

Then he said, “Kat, I think you’re a woman who always gets what you want, when you want it, but we’ll take things at my pace now.”

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and felt a flush of annoyance. “Why the rush?”

“On the contrary, I’m going to show you the value of patience.” He ran his forefinger over her lips softly and she opened them and took his finger into her mouth, sucking and biting down. She saw the rise and fall of his chest and reached out, but he stepped back and said, “Patience, Kat.”

She was so surprised – and very intrigued.

Calder just stared at her for a moment, up and down, his eyes resting longest on her breasts, then moving downward in a way that made her body tense and excited. He leaned down and began kissing above the deep v-neck of her dress. His fingers would lightly graze the curve of her breasts and then move to stroke her hip.

Hers was an ordinary body, with practical hips and practical breasts, and a practical small curve of tummy, and legs that could stand or walk all day long. But Calder’s touch made her feel the wonder of it, the loveliness of being a woman.

She let out a small sound of pleasure when he pulled the fabric of her dress up to caress her thigh. His fingers explored the lace tops of her thigh highs and his eyes widened. He let her hem fall again, and began running his fingers beneath her neckline into the cups of her bra. When she’d press towards him, he’d stop and nuzzle her neck.

Thrilled and frustrated, she stood still. Finally, he tugged at the tie that held her dress closed, slowly unwrapping the dress and letting it fall to the white sheepskin rug. He gazed at her in her black bra, panties, thigh-highs and heels, and he inhaled deeply.

“Silk stockings,” he said, pleased. “You’re full of surprises, Kat.”

She watched as Calder pulled off his shirt. The hair on his chest was dark and his shoulders were muscled. She thought of his story about being a trow.

He was leisurely as he removed his belt, his shoes and socks, and finally his trousers and briefs, and stood facing her, just out of her reach. He was even more beautiful now, naked and primal and fully excited. She wanted to drop to her knees and take him in her mouth, and she shivered with anticipation.

He picked her up and laid her on the bed, standing beside it and gazing at her for long seconds. Then he leaned over and began kissing her belly, circling his tongue on the sensitive nerves of her navel, and she raked her fingers through his thick dark hair.

His tongue moved to her panties. He nipped the fabric and pulled it up, and slid his finger beneath, but only at the edge. Then he moved towards her stockings, running his fingertips along the lace tops, brushing his fingers ever so lightly down the silk on her legs.

He took off one of her heels and kissed the top of her foot, and then did the same with the other, and used his thumbs to press into her arch. He stroked upwards along her legs now, and she was trembling with anticipation when he put his mouth on her silk panties, his warm breaths coming through the thin material.

When she arched her hips, wanting him, he said, “Not yet.” He flipped her over on to her stomach and then got on the bed and straddled her. Slowly, but firmly, he kneaded the muscles that ran along her spine, from her shoulders down. She felt his hardness pressing against her. She didn’t want him to draw away again, so she gripped the pillow to keep from reacting, but she couldn’t help making small noises of mingled pleasure and desire.

Every inch of her body tingled with sexual awareness in a way she’d never experienced before.

Kat felt Calder unclasp her bra and then his warm mouth kissed her back, all the way down. He turned her over again and pulled the bra straps off her arms. He threw the delicate garment across the room, and his breathing was rough and fast.

When Calder took her nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue, the sensation electrified her. He reached to her other nipple, teasing it, until she was saying, “Please, please, please!” and reaching down for him and raising her hips upward, trying to urge him to hurry.

He sat back on his heels and said, “Good things come to those who wait, Kat.”

She swallowed and forced herself to lay back. When she was still, he pulled down her panties and spread her legs. “Oh, Kat,” he said before sliding down and tenderly kissing the insides of her thighs. When he did more, she could no longer stay motionless. He pushed her thighs up and did impossibly marvellous things with his fingers, lips, tongue.

Every time she felt the pleasure in her rising to its cusp, he’d pull back, until she thought she couldn’t bear it anymore. “Please, Calder, please!” she cried out, and he finally moved up on the bed. He reached to the nightstand, opened a drawer and took out a condom. He tore open the package, and she reached for the condom and rolled it over him with trembling hands.

Then Calder finally entered her, filling her, and taking her up and over the edge until all she felt was wave after wave of pleasure. She thought the feeling couldn’t continue, but he didn’t stop until the sensation increased more intensely and she was crying out and sinking her fingernails into his hips, urging him on harder and faster.

Then they shuddered together and her arms went limp. They were breathing heavily, damp with sweat, and she felt in a daze with the sheer joy of it all.

He brushed a curl from her forehead and said, “My beautiful wild Kat,” then kissed her tenderly before slowly slipping away and moving to lie beside her.

She admired the width of his shoulders and the way his dark hair curled at his neck. Kat rolled to her side to face him. She kissed his mouth and his chest and then put her arms around him.

He stroked her head and said, “You were very patient.”

“It was worth it.”

“Good, because it nearly killed me,” he said, and she felt his chest shake with laughter. “I wanted you the moment I saw you sitting so self-assured by yourself.”

She remembered watching Calder on the street, and how she yearned for him then. “Calder, you’re beautiful,” she said and ran her hand over his back and his firm hip.

“You’re indulging yourself on holiday, darlin’. You’ll go back to your husband or lover … which is it?”

“I’ll go home. Who will you go home to?”

“To my work. To remembering the beautiful American woman with hair that gleamed like the autumn fields at sunset, and amber eyes, and the patience of a saint. A very provocative, lusty saint in silk stockings.”

“How did you know they’re silk?”

“I’m a man who knows quality, Kat. You’re quality.”

They slumbered for an hour and then woke up touching each other. This time she was the one who reached over to the night table and opened the drawer. It was filled with dozens of condom packets.

Calder saw her expression and said, “My friend’s idea of a joke for the guest room.”

“Funny friend,” she said, taking a packet and handing it to Calder. She climbed atop him and said, “My turn to be in charge.” She moved against him slowly at first, then hurrying as he held her hips and guided her up and down. The pleasure in her built again, and she was crying out as sensation flooded through her.

When Kat collapsed atop him, she laughed and said, “Next time, I’ll do it at a glacier’s pace, I’ll kiss and lick and nip and suck you until you’re begging me, please, please, please, but this time was still good.”

“It was bloody brilliant.” His breathing became slow and even, and he murmured, “Sorry, I was up very early. Tomorrow we’ll have all day and all night. Tomorrow you’ll make me beg. Sweet dreams, wild Kat.”

In a few minutes, he was asleep. Kat got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. She put toothpaste on her finger to brush her teeth. Seeing herself naked, with her crazy tumbled hair, her lips red from kissing, and pale violet love bites, her bare full breasts, Kat had never felt more beautiful or womanly.

She went to the kitchen and got a glass of water. She drank it as she walked back to the bedroom. A door off the entryway was ajar and she pushed it open out of curiosity. It was a small office with spare Scandinavian furniture. She flicked on the light and saw a desktop with a large monitor, neat files, and a silver cup filled with pens.

She looked at the framed photo beside the monitor and saw Calder and the blonde woman, his arm over her shoulder, smiling to the camera. Calder was heartbreakingly handsome in his evening jacket and kilt, and the woman was radiantly beautiful in an ivory wedding dress.

Calder was Emma’s man in the kilt.

Suddenly responsible Kathy returned. What had she just done, and whom had she done it with?

She was quiet as she gathered her clothes from the bedroom. She took one last look at gorgeous, lying, cheating Calder. Then she blew out the candles, quickly dressed in the hallway, picked up her purse, and left the flat.

It was late, but she remembered the direction of the main street and walked there. A few people chatted in groups on the street, and Kathy stood shivering until a taxi approached.

When she returned to her hotel, she thought the night clerk was leering at her. She went to her room and showered under the hottest water she could endure. She got in bed, pulled the blankets up to her neck, and began crying.

It was both the best and the worst birthday she’d ever had and she wished she’d never left home.

When the grey light of morning came, Kathy opened her eyes and remembered where she was and what had happened. Her thighs ached from the night before and her head was heavy from guilt and alcohol. She listened to the rain outside and the city noises: delivery trucks, raised voices, horns, construction sounds from a renovation nearby. She didn’t want to go downstairs to the usual complimentary English breakfast so she drank tea while staring out the window.

Kathy alone was responsible for going with a strange man to his “friend’s” place. She wondered if Calder was awake yet, or if he wondered where she’d gone.

Kathy dressed in jeans, one of her knitted sweaters, and tennis shoes, and went downstairs to the business centre. She checked her email and saw that Emma had, as promised, sent an invitation to stay at a “magnificent castle”: “I’ve made all the arrangements with the housekeeper, Jemma. The laird, Humphrey MacNeil, is some kind of workaholic, obsessed with saving his village from becoming more lost than Atlantis. Supposedly, there are sheep, so at least you can talk about wool if you can comprehend his brogue. Have you found your man in a kilt yet? Did you buy a blue coat?”

Emma said that Kathy could show up anytime in the next week and suggested she take an afternoon train that went north before proceeding on to the small atoll in Orkney.

Kathy remembered the painting she’d loved and wanted to be in that landscape right now. She sent back a note to Emma saying, “Thank you! Can’t wait to get home!”

Packing took only a few minutes, and she was glad the manager wasn’t at the front desk when she checked out. She left the stained blue coat there. Maybe someone could salvage the fabric.

Before walking outside, she put on a long scarf and tucked all her hair into a brown hat, because she didn’t want to be recognized in case … But he wouldn’t be looking for her. When she saw her reflection in a mirror, she looked like her old ordinary self.

Before she went to the train station, she stopped at a small knitting shop and bought fine merino yarn and needles. Her mother had always said that idle hands were the devil’s plaything, and her hands had never been idler than when she lay still while Calder stroked and kissed her.

When the train left, Kathy began making a scarf for Humphrey. She hoped he wouldn’t be like young Calder, disdaining handmade things, things made with care.

Her yarn was wrapped in an orderly sphere, but her thoughts were a tangle of regrets, anger, and the memories of Calder’s touch, his taste, that smile, the scent of him, the sound of his voice and his laughter. The way he gazed at her and murmured, “Kat”.

Although it was raining and cold when she finally arrived in St Margaret’s Hope, her spirits lifted as she looked with wonder at the peaceful cove and the brick buildings of the old town.

The housekeeper’s husband met Kathy at the ferry landing. Mike was a taciturn raw-boned and middle-aged man, but gave her a thermos of hot tea and a thick wool blanket once she was in his motorboat.

He had ignored her initial pleasantries about the weather and the scenery, and after several minutes of silence, Kathy said, “My friend, Emma MacNeil, says you have sheep.”

He barked out a laugh and when he spoke she worked to interpret what he was saying, the gist being, “Aye, sheep and cows are all we have, though Humphrey – that’s Mr MacNeil – is chuffed with some ‘brilliant’ new scheme for a business. He’s got us clearing rooms as if anyone would want to come and stay. No use telling him, because he’s so contermashious.”

“It’s a castle, right? Everyone wants to stay in castles.”

Mike turned his grey eyes on her and said, “It isn’t Balfour, lass, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t expect Balfour.” She didn’t.

He docked the boat at a small weathered pier. Gulls cawed overhead and the cold wind whipped at Kathy’s clothes, but she didn’t mind because she was staring at the green island. Mike handed her up, and she could see the tiny village ahead; buildings made of pale stone lined a street. Beyond were fields and hills with outcroppings of stone.

The briny air was invigorating and Kathy felt an unexpected thrill. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Aye, Miss, it may be a rock, but it’s a gem.”

He carried her bags to a car parked nearby, rusty from the salty air. “I’ll take you up to the castle and then you can meet the missus.”

He put her bags in the back of the car and then drove over a hill and on a gently curving road leading to a cliff. He parked on a gravel circle and said, “It’s here.”

Kathy didn’t see any buildings and had a sudden fear that Mike was going to push her over the edge in some barbaric ancient folk sacrifice. She walked very cautiously after him on the path that led to the precipice. She could see the deep blue-green water below, crashing into white foam against the layered sandstone face of the cliff.

“There’s Old Humphrey’s Castle,” Mike said as he pointed to a tall column of rock that rose perilously from the water’s surface.

“Where?”

“That sea stack, that’s Old Humphrey. It’s one of the best around. Let’s get you to the house, so ye can get settled. How long is it you’re staying?”

“Two days,” she said as they went to the car. Then she would return to London.

Mike said, “You can see the whole place in ten minutes. Will you want to have a look about the town? Not that there’s much to see but the women knitting, especially since most of us got made redundant when the management company consolidated in Glasgow.”

“I’d love to see women knitting, Mike.”

She got back in the car and said, “I feel rather foolish. I thought I was going to stay in a castle.”

He grinned. “Local joke, miss. Your Emma said you were a good sport.”

Kathy burst out laughing. “Emma! She’s been the cause of all my troubles. She says she has the gift of second sight.”

“Some do, you know. What else has she seen?”

“Mostly lotto numbers that are wrong. She swore that I would meet a man in a kilt, but all I met was a wicked trow.”

Mike grinned. “We’ve got both of those here.”

He steered the car around a bend and she looked down the hill to a grand building built in a cove. It was three storeys high of pale stone, with a slate roof and many chimneys. It faced a serene inlet and was surrounded by an emerald lawn.

Kathy felt a strange sense of déjà vu, as if she knew this place. Maybe Emma had shown her a photo, or she’d seen it in a guidebook, because it was so very familiar. On a hillock beyond she spotted sheep grazing against the grey sky, just like the painting.

Mike drove down to the house and parked around the side. An old yellow lab ambled up to greet him, and then a middle-aged woman in corduroys and a sweater came out. “Welcome, welcome!”

“Hi, I’m Kathy.”

“I’m Janna. Hope your trip was good.”

“It was, and Mike showed me the castle.”

She looked at her husband and they both laughed. Janna said, “There was a castle here once, but we like this place fine. Come in out of the cold.”

Mike excused himself, saying, “The boss gave me a list of tasks. He’s coming in this evening.”

Janna took Kathy into the house through the front entrance, which led to a marbled entry and huge room with pale grey walls, a mix of modern and antique furniture and paintings that made it seem both timeless and contemporary. “The Great Hall,” she said. “Mr MacNeil keeps saying that he’s to sell off all the valuables, so enjoy them now.”

“Why would he do that? It’s perfect.”

“It is, but he thinks he can save all of us from going hungry. I keep telling him to look out for himself, and the rest of us will manage. It’s no wonder he doesn’t have time for a wife.”

Janna led Kathy up a wide staircase with carved wood banisters. “Your friend said you have a knitting business.”

“Yes, a small one. Trying to meet my bills is always a challenge. Your sweater is lovely. Is the pale green a natural dye?”

“You’ve an eye. The wool is from our own herd and I made the dye from kelp, which is also what the sheep eat.”

“I’ve never heard of that!”

“Even our local sheep are odd,” Janna said, leading Kathy down a panelled hallway with a faded carpet. “Them that eat the kelp are an old breed, and the laird’s parents raised other old breeds. As if anyone wants to see a sheep museum.” Janna opened a door at the end of the hallway. “The furnace here works, so you’ll be warm, and you’ve got the afternoon sun.”

The large comfortably furnished room had pretty chintz wallpaper and a fireplace. “Thank you. It’s very nice.”

“If you come to the morning room, we’ll have tea and then I’ll give you a tour of the house and grounds.”

Kathy put away her things and then looked out the tall narrow window. The rain had let up and golden rays of sun beamed out between the slate clouds. This place might not be a castle, but it was fantastic.

She washed up in the adjoining bathroom and thought that she’d enjoy a leisurely soak tonight in the deep tub. The image of Calder’s long body in the bath came to her unbidden and she felt a throb of something between lust and loss. Her mind kept returning to him, not just what they’d done, but what she wanted to do with him, to him.

However, another woman, the blonde woman, had exclusive rights to those pleasures.

Kathy washed her hands, smoothed on tinted lip-gloss and followed Janna’s directions to the morning room. Tea was set up, but Janna was nowhere around. Kathy sat and waited. After a few minutes, she poured a cup and drank it. Then she went to find Janna.

She searched the ground level and discovered a dining room, a wing of empty bedrooms, and a snooker room. There was a long library with french windows looking out to a stone terrace … but no kitchen. Then she found a staircase leading down and went to the basement. She followed the scent of cooking food to an expansive, out of date kitchen.

Janna was talking on an old wall phone and cursing a blue streak. Her source of aggravation was the sink. When she saw Kathy, she tempered her voice and continued her conversation: “I would appreciate it if you could fix it as soon as possible. Thank you.” She hung up and looked at Kathy. “Everything goes wrong in an old house.”

“Maybe I can help. I know a little about plumbing.”

“You’re a guest.”

“Guests can help. I like to feel useful.”

“The main sink won’t drain and it’s a bother using the others.” Janna waved towards a deep sink that was filled with murky water.

“Do the other sinks drain? Because if it’s only the one, then it’s a local clog. Do you have any tools and a bucket?”

Ten minutes later, Kathy was under the sink removing the U-trap. When she finished and turned on the water, it swirled quickly down the drain. “There,” she said, smiling at Janna. “If you pour a kettle of boiling water down the drain monthly, it helps prevent buildups.”

“You’re a very practical young lady. I hate to have you work on your vacation.”

“My parents always taught me to take care of things myself so I wouldn’t have to pay others to do them for me.” Kathy washed her hands and dried them on a kitchen towel. “Being on vacation is exhausting. I like doing things, being useful.”

Janna laughed. “You may regret saying that.” She made a new pot of tea and told Kathy about the local sights, and said, “You’ll be bored by this evening. This is why we can’t get tourists, although Humphrey’s concocted a grand plan to lure them here. Bless that man, but …”

“But?”

“He should have left when he was young and he could have had a real life.” Janna smiled a little sadly. “But we love him for staying.” She glanced out the window and said, “There’s a break in the rain. Would you like to borrow wellies for a tramp?”

Kathy bundled up and walked across to the inlet, then up a hill to enjoy the views. She snapped photos of sheep, trees, storm clouds, rocks. When she returned to the house, Janna had prepared lunch: a salad made from homegrown greens and locally made feta with warm bread. It was eerily like the setting Kathy had imagined for her fantasy business.

Janna sighed and said, “Well, I’ve got to sort out the furniture in storage, because Humphrey wants the bedrooms set up for guests.

“Can I help?”

Janna didn’t take much convincing and Kathy spent the rest of the afternoon helping pull old furniture out of piles in the basement storage rooms. She fixed wobbly legs and polished the pieces with Janna’s homemade beeswax paste.

In the evening, Janna went home, leaving Kathy alone with the old dog and her knitting. The next day Kathy went into the tiny village. Everyone was friendly and asked if she’d met Humphrey MacNeil.

“Not yet. He’s very kind to let me stay.”

The owner of the cheese shop winked and said, “He must have heard how pretty you are. He’s not married, you know, and quite a catch – as smart and kind as he is handsome.”

Kathy didn’t believe for a second that anyone named Humphrey was handsome. He must be very peculiar if everyone was so desperate to find a wife for him. “I’m sure some girl will snatch him up.”

“He’d have no problem if he was willing to leave us. He’s too loyal, Humphrey is.”

Kathy smiled, but she wasn’t interested in some ancient workaholic. She returned to the house and helped Janna sweep, polish and wash linens for the guest rooms. They chattered away and shared tips and recipes.

Jenna said, “You sound very close to your parents. Do you live near them?”

“I used to, but my mother passed away several years ago and my father remarried and moved, because he kept remembering how difficult it was for her at the end. Now it’s just me.”

“You’re always welcome here, Kathy.”

“Thank you. I really like it here.” Kathy paused and then said, “Janna, I was going to return to London tomorrow. Would it be all right if I stayed until the end of the week?”

Janna grinned. “Of course, you can! You’re a dream, Kathy, and if Humphrey could see what a hard working lass you are … well, he complains about those who are only interested in being coddled and spoilt.”

Kathy didn’t say anything, but she thought that Humphrey was probably more interested in a servant than a wife.

Her last full day at the island came too quickly and Kathy already felt a pang of nostalgia for this lovely place and the friendly locals.

Before she took her last visit to the sights, Kathy wanted to finish putting up drapes in one of the bedrooms. She was standing on a ladder, facing the window with its views of verdant hills, while she tried to balance a long rod with heavy brocade drapes. At the sound of footsteps behind her, she said, “I’ve almost got this.”

As a rule, Kathy was careful. But she was caught up in her sadness about leaving this place and she stretched farther than she should. When the ladder rocked, she shifted her weight … but the rod was too long and heavy.

She let it drop and as it clattered on the floor, there was that awful moment when Kathy realized that she couldn’t save herself. She was falling and the next instant strong arms were around her, catching her.

She grabbed on to the person and found herself looking right into Calder’s blue eyes. Seeing him again made her speechless.

Calder’s astonished expression swiftly changed into delight. “I’ve been looking all over Edinburgh for you and I’ve finally caught my wild golden-eyed Kat.”

“Goddamn you! Put me down.”

“Not even a welcome home kiss? Or more? I recall a promise …”

She brought her arms forwards and shoved at his chest. She could feel his firm flesh under a fine dove-grey cashmere sweater. When he let her down, he said, “Why did you leave and how did you find me?”

Kathy stepped away from him, catching her foot in the fallen valance, then kicking it away. “I left because you’re married, and I didn’t find you. I’m staying with my friend’s relative, Humphrey MacNeil.”

“You’re Kathy?”

“Yes, I’m Kathy. Does Janna know you’re here?”

“I suppose so.” He looked towards the doorway and called out, “Isobel, did you tell Janna I’m here?”

Kathy followed his glance and saw the beautiful blonde woman come in. She was dressed in an elegant shell pink sweater and tight jeans tucked into boots. The woman, Isobel, said to Calder, “Of course, I told her,” while gazing at Kathy. Then the woman shrieked and cried to Calder, “That’s her! That’s the woman!”

Kathy felt sick with guilt and anger. She wanted to push Calder out the window. She wanted to scream. She wanted to disappear.

Calder looked confused. “Calm yourself, Isobel. This is Kat. I told you about her. Kat, or Kathy, is it?, Isobel.”

“You told her?” Kathy said with horror. To Isobel, she said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, or I never would have …”

“Kat is the woman I saw!” Isobel cried, looking at Calder.

He looked at the blonde as if she was mad. “Isobel, not now, please.” He turned to Kathy and said, “Ignore her. She’s crazy.”

“I am not!” Isobel pointed at Kathy and said to Calder, “She’s the one you slept with? The one in the blue coat?”

“Her coat is green, Isobel.”

Kathy thought that Isobel must have remembered her from the street. “I had a blue coat. He splattered it with mud when you were driving on Princes Street.”

Calder tilted his head and said, “You saw me before we met at dinner?”

Isobel glared at Calder and said, “I was right, you fool! I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.”

Kathy took a breath and said, “He said he wasn’t married.”

Isobel’s expression softened. “Of course, he’s not married. He’s supposed to marry you. I’ve been telling him to find the girl in the blue coat, and when I saw you with the umbrella, I screamed at him to stop the car, but he never takes the MacNeil sight seriously.”

“But the wedding photo of you two …”

Calder laughed. “Isobel is my sister!”

“That was my wedding,” Isobel said. “It didn’t last and that’s the only photo from it I can bear to look at.” She smiled at her brother. “Humphrey, next time you’ll believe in my sight.”

Kathy said to her, “My friend Emma has the sight, too. She told me to get a blue coat.”

“I think you both have something to discuss,” Isobel said, and left the room.

Calder looked Kathy up and down, and she became self-conscious about her grimy jeans, dusty sweater, and the kerchief tied over her head. “You said your name was Calder.”

“So it is. Humphrey Calder MacNeil. When my father was alive, they all called me Calder, but since he passed, they insist on Humphrey.”

“Like the castle.”

“Aye, lass,” he said, with a sheepish grin. His expression became serious and he said, “I didn’t know why you left me.”

“I thought you were a wicked trow, deceiving me, with your drawer full of condoms and a wife.” She glanced down at her clothes and said, “I was the one deceiving you. I’m not a woman who dines alone in expensive restaurants. This is how I look most days. This is who I am really.”

“Who you are really is a lass who can tease me, a lass who can laugh while she dances in a crowded pub, a lass who can take as good as she can give, a lass who wears silk stockings.” He reached for her hands and held them. “I knew these weren’t pampered hands, darlin’.” He lifted them to his lips and kissed them.

“So you’re Humphrey, a loyal workaholic, who spends all of his time here.”

“The very one. When you talked about your retreat, I thought, that’s it. That’s what I need to do to create jobs here and to share the beauty.”

“But I lied,” she said. “All I have is a puny business. I love it, but it’s just me and a few classes.”

“Then I wouldn’t be asking you to give up everything if I asked you to stay, Kat. Would you stay here with me? Help me set up your retreat here?” He pulled the kerchief off her head and kissed her temple.

“Well, I don’t think I should leave before you replace my blue coat.”

His arms went around her, bringing her tight against his large firm body, and she sighed at the touch of him, the scent of him, and slipped her arms around his waist. He said, “The lambs won’t be born until next spring. It will take some time before their wool is ready to sheer. Then there’s the cleaning, dying, spinning and looming. It will be best if you settle in for a long stay. Since you’re a visitor, there may be problems, unless …”

“Unless what?”

“Would you consider marrying a Scotsman, Kat? You said I could ask you later.”

“I did say that, and it was a very special coat, Calder. Besides, would it do us any good to fight the MacNeil vision?”

“I think not, darlin’. We may as well give in to fate, to long days of work and longer nights of making love. The trow in me especially enjoys the nights. If that’s what you want.”

“What I want, Calder, is to hear you beg me please, please, please.”

He lifted her up until they were face to face. “That’s what I hoped you’d say, my beautiful wild Kat.”