the MacKinnon, because ye’d be married to that auld goat’s granddaughter.”
Eyes widening, Kiergan realized his father was right. “Fook,” he muttered, and dragged his hand through his hair. “Fook fook shite fook.”
And just when he thought he might tear his own hair out, his father took him by the shoulders. It was the same way Kiergan always remembered Da holding him; his large hands offering weight and comfort. When he’d been a lad, Da would have had to crouch down to hold him like this. Now, the older man was still wider at the shoulders, but Kiergan was slightly taller. They stood eye-to-eye, and yet, Da still held him, comforted him.
That realization, more than anything else, helped him gulp down the panic and take deep breaths.
“Can I assume, lad, that this reaction means ye have considered marrying the lass?” Da asked softly.
The lass? Och, aye, Davina. Nay, not Davina, not anymore.
So Kiergan nodded, then shook his head, then closed his eyes on another curse.
And Da squeezed his shoulders. “Ye dinnae have to do this just for me, or for the clan, lad. I’ll no’ force ye.”
I want to marry her.
The words, written in bold letters across the inside of his eyelids, had Kiergan sucking in a breath. When he opened those eyes, he saw his father watching him, worry in his expression.
“I want to marry her, Da,” Kiergan said softly, surprise in his voice. “I—I didnae expect to like her as much as I do. But becoming laird…?” He shook his head. “ ’Tis no’ me. I am no’ my brothers.”
“Nay, ye’re no’.” And that’s when Da stepped closer, until their noses were only inches apart. “But ye are still my son. Ye are worthy of leading a clan—either Oliphant or MacKinnon—because I say so. Ye are as brave and honorable as yer brothers, but more than that, ye ken people, laddie. Ye ken what they’re feeling, ye ken how to speak to them.” He gave Kiergan a little shake. “ ’Tis a valuable skill for a laird, along with a sense of purpose and fairness. Ye should’ve been given responsibility long ago, for ye no’ only deserve it, but excel at it.”
His mouth having dropped open during his father’s impassioned speech, Kiergan could now only blink in shock.
A sense of pride filled him in a way it had never done before.
Pride?
He’d never been proud of himself before. He’d never felt himself worthy of pride before. He’d never considered his father might be proud of him.
As if he saw Kiergan’s thoughts, Da squeezed his shoulders again. “I believe ye will make a fine laird, son,” he said in a rough voice, love shining in his eyes. “And ken that ye’ll always have a family here who loves ye and wants the best for ye.”
Kiergan blinked furiously, forbidding the tears to fall. His father noticed and smiled.
When Da pulled him into a hug—the kind of hug he remembered from his childhood, all hairy and bone-crunching—Kiergan hugged him back just as fiercely.
His father was proud of him and believed he’d make a fine laird. Which was good, because if Kiergan married the MacKinnon’s granddaughter, he’d become a laird one way or another.
Shite.
But there was another part of him, a tiny voice which he’d long ago silenced because he didn’t think he’d ever amount to aught, which whispered: He’s right. Ye can do this.
And if he had a wife by his side who also understood people, and understood how to run a keep, and understood him…well, he could do the job even better.
So now he just had to decide if this was truly what he wanted. Did he want to marry the MacKinnon’s granddaughter and become laird?
And that little voice in the back of his mind and heart whispered: Aye.
Kiergan seemed buoyant at the evening meal, offering silly toasts to members of his family and teasing Moira outrageously. Davina was seated beside him but kept her attention on her food. His antics didn’t seem to amuse her; in fact, each time he did something ridiculous, her scowl darkened.
Katlyn was seated between Lady Agatha and Nessa. Agatha was ignoring her to flirt with Grandda, who sat across from them. Watching Katlyn watch Kiergan, Nessa leaned in with a smile.
“Dinnae tell the others, but he’s my favorite brother,” she whispered.
Startled, Kat tilted her head toward her, while keeping her attention on the brother in question. “Kiergan?”
“Aye,” Nessa’s low voice rang with humor. “He’s always treated me as if I mattered. No’ that the others didnae,