Scot to the Touch (The Hots for Scots #7) - Caroline Lee Page 0,25

important for leadership. Ye’d be as fine a laird as any of yer brothers.”

Slowly, Kiergan straightened, staring at her. He swallowed. “Nae—nae one has ever said that to me.”

She shrugged, bending down to pick up a smooth stone she’d found. “That doesnae make it less true.”

Then she cocked her arm and flung the water-rounded stone across the water, causing it to skip even more times than his missile had jumped.

Nodding in approval, she glanced back at him. When she saw the shocked way he was looking at her, those plump lips curled into a proud smile. “What? Ye’re no’ the only one who kens how to skip a stone.”

That hadn’t been what had shocked him, and he shook his head. “I just cannae believe ye…” He paused to take a deep breath. “Nae one has ever claimed I’d be good at aught.” Besides making love, that was.

Unimaginable pleasure. ‘Tis what Davina had called it last night, had she not?

The reminder of what he’d shared with Katlyn’s sister doused his ardor as thoroughly as being pushed into the stream.

A few hours ago, he’d been ready to go to Laird MacKinnon and offer for his granddaughter. But his unexpected friendship with Katlyn had stayed his hand.

Katlyn, who was now studying him. “If nae one told ye ye’d be a good laird—a good leader—then ‘tis because ye havenae allowed them to see that side of ye. With five brothers, I’m guessing ye have had to struggle to set yerself apart. Rocque is the warrior, Malcolm is the scholar, Finn is the trader… They all have their skills.” She shrugged. “It must have been difficult to truly stand out and excel at something.”

St. Columba’s blessed earlobe, how was she reading him so well? Kiergan’s mouth had dropped open as he stared, having never heard himself described so easily before.

“I’m right, am I no’?” She didn’t allow him to answer—not that he was certain what he would’ve said—but nodded as she turned back to the stream. “Ye likely have relied on yer reputation as a lover, a giver of unimaginable pleasure”—she snorted softly under her breath at that—“rather than trying something one of yer brothers excelled at and risk no’ matching up to them.”

“How’d ye ken, lass?” he whispered hoarsely.

Without looking, she shrugged again. “I ken people. I think ye do too. I’ve spent my life on the outside, watching, kenning I’d never— Och.” She shook her head, then offered a small smile. “It matters no’. And yer leadership skills will no’ matter unless ye marry.”

The change in topic caught him unawares. But then, almost everything this lass did caught him unawares. “What?” he blurted.

“By yer own admission, the lairdship will go to the son who marries and produces a grandson first, aye? So if ye want to have a shot at becoming the next Oliphant, ye’d have to marry.”

Davina.

The word hung, unspoken between them, and caused him to scoff. “Why would I want to be laird?”

“Because ye’d be good at it,” she said quietly. Simply, with absolute certainty.

And for a moment—the briefest moment—Kiergan allowed himself to imagine what it’d be like to be the next laird. To have the respect of not just his clan, but his brothers as well, who’d always seen him as a lazy charmer. He wouldn’t have to lead the clan alone—he’d be able to rely on all of them, each with their skills and blessings. And he’d organize them all, keep them working smoothly. Because he knew how people thought. Aye, he could—

Nay. Dinnae be silly.

“Ye’ve obviously been kicked in the head by Reginald,” he said dismissively, nudging a rock to dislodge some stones. He squatted to sift through them, hoping to find another round one for skipping. “I’ll no’ be laird, because marriage…”

“Aye, ye said ye wouldnae marry. But this morning, ye claimed ye were going to speak to Grandda about a betrothal to my sister.”

But that was before he’d spent more time with Katlyn.

So he hedged. “She…dislikes me.”

“That is true.”

But that hadn’t stopped Davina from coming to him last night. “Sometimes…what we show the world isnae our true feelings, lass,” he managed, pretending great interest in the rocks between his fingers. “I dinnae suppose ye noticed her leaving yer bedchamber last night?”

He wasn’t looking at her, but all of his senses were tuned onto her. So when she stiffened, he knew she’d understood what he was hinting at.

Still, her tone was exceedingly careful when she said, “I cannae say I noticed her leaving the chamber, nay. But…earlier