Scot to the Touch (The Hots for Scots #7) - Caroline Lee Page 0,4

word has to be a double entendre…”

“Oh, for cabbage’s sake!” Kiergan threw up his hands, even as the MacKinnon entourage passed below them into the courtyard. “Ye lot can sit around listing new kinds of humor, like ‘tis something to be written down in a book or some shite, but I’m leaving. I’d rather go see this woman I'll never marry than sit around listening to ye dissect the joke like the rectum of a diseased cow—”

“Why in the ever-loving hell would we want to dissect a diseased cow’s rectum?” Alistair mused.

“Rectum? Wrecked ‘im?” Rocque rumbled. “I barely even touched ‘im.”

Malcolm’s jaw dropped open, and he wheeled on his brother. “Brilliant. Brilliant!”

Kiergan closed his eyes on a wince. “I think I hate ye all.”

His twin was chuckling when he slapped his hand against Kiergan’s shoulder and steered him away from their brothers, who were currently chortling over Rocque’s stupid joke.

“Come on, Kier,” Alistair urged, “I want to get a look at yer betrothed.”

“She’s no’ my betrothed,” Kiergan mumbled halfheartedly, allowing himself to be led toward the inner edge of the wall so he could look down on the MacKinnon group. “If ye’d given me the correspondence earlier…”

Only a few sennights ago, Alistair had agreed with Lara’s suggestion to delegate some of the poor man’s burdens. Kiergan hadn’t been aware of the plan and had in fact been flabbergasted when his brother—serious, staid, and dismissive of Kiergan’s way of life—had handed over the responsibility of the clan’s correspondence. Since then, Kiergan had discovered he was actually good at it.

After all, this was naught more than diplomacy. And although he’d never considered it before, he was very good at diplomacy. It was how he’d talked himself into so many lass’s beds over the years.

“If I’d given ye the responsibility of the correspondence earlier,” Alistair said, almost gently, “I would’ve been a happier man for it. Having ye handle something ye’re so good at has helped me tremendously.”

As always, his twin brother’s praise surprised, and embarrassed, Kiergan. After so long of thinking himself not particularly good at anything, besides bringing pleasure, ‘twas odd to hear such nice things said about an ability Kiergan hadn’t even known he’d had.

But then Alistair continued. “Aye, I should’ve given ye the responsibility earlier, since ye excelled. However, I never saw the letters between Da and MacKinnon. I’m no’ surprised he handled it himself; he must’ve kenned we’d balk at him arranging marriages for us.”

“Is that no’ what he did?” grumbled Kiergan, folding his arms and watching the MacKinnon warriors dismount below. “Just no’ as overtly.”

At the beginning of the summer, their father had delivered an ultimatum which had resulted in all five of Kiergan’s brothers marrying, one after the other. William Oliphant hadn’t arranged the marriages, but he’d sure kicked his sons’ arses into action.

All but me.

But watching the MacKinnons below, Kiergan wondered if Da had finally succeeded.

Nay, dinnae consider that.

“Do ye think that’s the MacKinnon?” Alistair muttered under his breath as a thin, elderly man dismounted.

Seeing Da heading toward the man, his arms outstretched, Kiergan grunted in agreement. “Must be.”

The man was as tall as Da, but half as heavy. He wore his hair and beard long, like Da’s, but his was snow-white and braided into dozens of small strands, which stuck out from his scalp and chin as if he’d been struck by lightning. He wore his kilt and sword in the style of a much younger man, but his knees were knobby and wobbled above his boots.

A strange-looking laird to be sure, which didn’t bode well for his granddaughter.

Suddenly, Alistair nudged him and pointed to the carriage. A man in MacKinnon plaid was opening the door and reaching in, and a woman’s ankle emerged, then her leg. Her whole body came next, and both brothers sucked in a breath to see her.

“Ye lucky bastard,” whispered Alistair, and Kiergan couldn’t respond. He was too busy nodding in agreement.

The MacKinnon’s granddaughter was stunning. Completely beautiful, perfectly angelic with those clear blue eyes and blonde curls…and she was absolutely livid.

‘Twas impossible to deny the way she glared around the courtyard; her lips pulled into a frown, and her brows lowered. She was angry at being there, and it was likely she wanted marriage to him even less than he wanted it to her.

Despite her beauty, the knowledge sent relief through Kiergan, and he was finally able to breathe properly for the first time since she emerged. She was beautiful, aye, but she wasn’t for him. He just