“You came.”  He moved toward her.

     Devin backed away from his advance.  The delicate teacup she held hit the silver serving tray with a resounding crash.  Pieces of floral patterned china rained down on the carpet in her haste to get away.

     “Oh no,” Devin cried out, scrambling for the linen napkin, hurrying to soak up the amber liquid before it ruined the plush wool rug.

     “Lord Rollie won’t be pleased, lass.  That set was in his family for over a hundred years,” Kyle remarked through gritted teeth, gesturing toward the soggy mess.

     “Really and how would you know what my cousin owned?”  The American woman threw a wary glance in his direction as she dropped to her knees to blot at the spot.

     He offered up a nonchalant shrug.  “I knew all about the man.” 

     “Look Mr… whoever you are, I think it’s time you left.  This is a private home and I’m not quite sure how you got in, but I’d appreciate it if you would leave now.”  She motioned toward the door with her free hand.

     “Kyle MacLay, previous owner of Castle Loch Haven,” he replied calmly.

     “What did you say?”  Devin turned toward him, her gaze caught on his face, not quite sure of what she had just heard.  The carpet now forgotten for the moment.

     “Laird Kyle MacLay, at your service, lass.”  He bowed low before her.

     “Look, if this is some kind of sick joke, I am not impressed.”

     “No joke, milady.  I would never deign to make light of Lord Roland’s demise,” he said seriously, as far as Devin could.