Scot to the Touch (The Hots for Scots #7) - Caroline Lee Page 0,21

to sound at ease when she said to Evelinde, “And thank ye for yer kind words, and for letting me hold the bairn. He’s a delight.”

Then, without glancing at Kiergan—although it damn well killed her—Katlyn gathered her skirts in both hands and hurried for the main door, hoping to find solace in the village.

How could she balance what she’d always known had to happen for the good of her clan, with what she was only now realizing she desperately wanted?

Chapter 5

Kiergan left the castle before he could enjoy his morning meal, and now his hunger clawed at his belly.

Last night had been a first for him; he’d tupped a lass in his own bed, then fallen asleep beside her. Usually, he took his pleasure—and gave plenty in return—in whatever location was available and was at least semi-private. Then he’d be free to eat and drink to replenish his energy afterward. But this morning, he discovered having a woman in his bed made him ravenous.

And not just for food.

But the food thing was important. And there was no way he’d be able to eat in the great hall with Evelinde glaring at him disapprovingly.

After Katlyn had escaped—and why in damnation was she so irritated at him?—he’d met Evelinde’s eyes. “I dinnae suppose I could convince ye to keep this to yerself?”

“If ye’re asking me no’ to tell my husband about the way ye just made a fool of yerself, the answer’s nay.” She was frowning at him, and he wasn’t sure why.

“And if she doesnae tell Papa, I will,” piped up young Liam.

Wasn’t that just his luck? Kiergan muttered a curse under his breath, forgetting about Liam’s tendency to repeat everything he heard.

“Mama, what does for fox’s sake mean?”

Evelinde sucked in a breath as Kiergan winced, and the bairn chose that moment to spit up.

‘Twas an ideal time to make his escape, although Evelinde’s voice floated after him. “Ye’ll pay for that, Kiergan Oliphant!”

Which is why he assumed, all things considered, that mayhap he should just stay away from the castle for a while. There was plenty of food to be had down in the village, and he could visit some friends as well while he waited for Liam to forget his new vocabulary.

The tavern was one of his favorite haunts, thanks to his years of drinking and whoring. He’d been visiting less frequently in the last fortnights, ever since Alistair had turned the responsibility of the clan’s correspondence over to him, so when he stepped inside, he was greeted by a chorus of well-wishes.

The food was good, the ale was watered down—it was the morning, after all—and the whores…? Well, the whores were all well-endowed and friendly, and fell over themselves trying to tempt him. But this morning, naught they could do interested him, and wasn’t that an intriguing realization?

Davina Oliphant might claim to hate him, but apparently, the things she’d done to him last night had ruined him for other women.

Damnation. I might have to marry the lass just to get her out of my system.

But her reaction to him that morning proved, though she might’ve climbed atop him and given him her virginity, she still very much hated him. At least, according to her sister.

It was a little strange the way thoughts of Katlyn kept intruding on his musings that morning. Like how bonny she’d looked sitting at the table holding wee Tomas, her strange eyes alight with a glow he couldn’t identify. Or the way she’d joked with him yesterday evening at supper, when her sister had ignored him.

He was just leaving the tavern when, as if his thoughts had conjured her, he saw Katlyn stepping out of the butcher’s shop.

Ye’ve just announced yer intention to woo her sister. ‘Twould send the wrong message to be seen walking with Katlyn.

But when had he ever cared about propriety? So when his legs broke into a trot, he didn’t bother to stop them. “Katlyn!” he called.

When she spun to face him, her mis-matched eyes were alight with that same glow he’d noticed that morning. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have said she looked like a woman who’d been well-loved.

But that light quickly dimmed when she realized who was calling her name. As he reached her side, she folded her hands in front of her and lowered her head. “Milord,” she murmured, and that murmur reached down into his stomach—and lower—and tugged at something visceral.

Kiergan shifted under his kilt, trying to ignore the way her husky voice suddenly made