Scot to the Touch (The Hots for Scots #7) - Caroline Lee Page 0,37

ask ye the same thing. Mayhap yer heart’s no’ in the sparring today?”

To his relief, his father took that offered excuse and sheathed his sword, still breathing heavily. “Aye, mayhap.”

As Kiergan put away his own blade, he eyed his father. “Then mayhap we could rest in the shade of yonder tree? I’m feeling the heat of the sun already after that workout.”

Da peered at him, as if able to see his intent, but finally nodded. Kiergan led the way to the pile of stones in the shade, then let out a groan for good measure as he sat. He noticed Da stifled his own grunt in an attempt to hide his exhaustion.

Passing the older man a skin full of water, Kiergan pinned him with a challenging stare. “So are ye going to explain to me why ye’re so angry, or should I guess?’

The water dripped into his beard as Da finished his drink. “Bah! I’ll tell ye. ‘Tis that auld goat MacKinnon. The man is demanding I make good on my promise!”

Kiergan’s heart began to pound, and he sat up straighter. “Ye told us ye made nae promises to him.”

“I did no’. But he seems to think I did.” With a sigh, Da propped his elbows on his knees and hunched forward. “He has nae heir. For years, his plan has been that the man who marries his granddaughter will become the next MacKinnon heir, which is a fine way to bring in new blood. So he’s claiming that the arrangement we came to last winter means he’s wasted valuable time finding a new betrothal contract, when it was his damned fault for falling ill and delaying the journey here.”

Kiergan’s knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword, showing just how much his father’s news was affecting him. “Are ye saying—” He had to clear his throat and start again. “Ye mean that MacKinnon is now forcing ye to honor the betrothal to his granddaughter?”

When his father did naught more than twist his head to meet his eyes, Kiergan saw the truth there.

“And I’m yer last unmarried son.”

It wasn’t a question, but Da blew out a breath and nodded. “I’ll no’ force ye to marry, lad, if ye truly dinnae want to. But MacKinnon will call our honor into question, and we’ll likely end up with another feud on our hands. So I’m asking ye…is there any chance ye might actually be interested in the lass?”

Frowning, Kiergan forced his hand off his sword, forced his entire body to relax. He exhaled and tilted his head back, rolling his shoulders as he thought.

Marriage. He’d been thinking about it, aye. He’d been thinking about it a lot actually, since the night Davina had crawled into his bed.

But ‘twas not her he imagined when he thought about his future. Nay, he was imagining staring into a set of mismatched eyes—one golden, one the clearest blue—which sparkled with wit and caring and intelligence. He was imagining spending his life with Katlyn, who in a few short days had worked her way into his heart by showing him she genuinely cared for him.

“Marriage can be hell on earth with the wrong woman, laddie,” Da warned. “Ye saw what ‘twas like for the clan when I married Glynnis.”

Kiergan shifted his weight, still considering. “Aye, but ye’ve always said ye would’ve married yer first love, remember?”

“Flora MacVanish. I’ll never forget. I would’ve married her, had her father thought me worthy. Hell, I would’ve married Flora without her father’s permission, but she returned home for a visit and died while there, and I never saw her again.” The older man sighed and squeezed the waterskin between his hands. “Marrying Glynnis was a terrible idea, but no’ all marriages are like that.”

“Moira’s no’ like that,” Kiergan said quietly, wanting his father to be happy.

But Da just snorted and shook his head. “We’re no’ speaking of me, lad. Besides, there’s another consideration.”

Head still tipped back, he opened one eye and glared at his father, as if to ask, “There’s more?”

And Da had the good grace to grimace. “If ye marry, and by some stroke of luck yer wife births a son before yer brothers’ wives…”

Kiergan jumped to his feet. “Ye’d make me laird?” he asked incredulously. “Even though I’ve always said I have nae interest in it?”

With a sigh, his father pushed himself up to stand before Kiergan. “Interest or no’, Kier, ye’d become laird if ye marry. Either Laird Oliphant, because yer wife birthed my first grandson, or