Scot to the Touch (The Hots for Scots #7) - Caroline Lee Page 0,47

in a gasp. “Why?” she blurted.

Was she nervous? Scared about what he wanted to discuss? Turning a wicked smile her way, Kiergan said, “Why, to discuss marriage of course.”

The poor lass’s eyes were wide. Kiergan knew she wasn’t to blame for the miscommunication between him and Katlyn, but she had been treating him like shite for days now.

“To— Marriage to whom?” she managed.

And he might’ve continued to tease her, which would have been a great repayment for the glares, and the way she’d spurned him, but he didn’t want to hurt Katlyn. So he turned back to the unusual beauty in his arms. “Why, to my Kat of course.”

There was surprise in those mismatched eyes, which he hadn’t expected.

“Ye want to marry me?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Aye.” And every moment he stood there with her—as delicious as her body was, pressed against his—the farther away Graham got. “What in the utter hell did ye think I meant when I said I claimed ye as mine?”

“But…” Her gaze jumped back and forth between his eyes. “Forever, Kiergan?”

“Aye, of course forever, ye daft woman. I havenae been listening to that damned drummer for naught, have I?” He dropped a quick kiss to her lips. “I love ye. Now”—he smacked her arse again—“get moving! I’ll see ye in the great hall in a few minutes, aye?”

He thought she might’ve agreed, but he was moving too quickly to be certain. He tossed another grin and a wink to Davina as he passed, and then he was out in the corridor.

Luckily—for castle security at least, if not his nose—he ran smack into Rocque’s chest.

“Rocque!” he cried, grabbing onto his brother’s arm for support and rubbing at his nose as they moved down the hall. “Have ye seen a running man? Any strangers in the castle?”

This brother of his might not be the sharpest tool in the smithy, but he was no fool when it came to matters of security. His hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. “Nay, should I alert Brohn?”

The housekeeper’s son, Brohn, was Rocque’s second. Kiergan didn’t hesitate. “Aye, tell him to lock down the walls. Do ye ken where the lads are?”

“Finn returned overnight, and he and Dunc are down in the great hall with Da. Mal and Alistair are in the solar.”

Slapping his hand on Rocque’s shoulder, Kiergan broke away. “I’ll get them, and ye meet me down in the hall with Da, aright?”

His brother’s growled “Aye,” followed Kiergan as he hurried toward the solar, peering closely along the walls as he went, looking for evidence of Graham’s passage.

Davina didn’t speak to her as they dressed, but when they stepped out of their room and made their way to the stairs, she slipped her hand into Katlyn’s. Surprised, Kat glanced at her sister, and the younger woman offered a sad smile.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult over the last few days,” Davina whispered.

Slowing her steps, even though her heart pounded with excitement at Kiergan’s earlier words, Kat lowered her chin to meet her sister’s eyes. “I’ve been worried about ye. Are ye certain there’s naught ye want to tell me?”

Vina looked almost guilty as she glanced away, shaking her head. But her hand tightened around Katlyn’s. “I am happy for ye and Kiergan. Ye deserve so much happiness. Do ye think…” She swallowed and glanced back up at Katlyn as they reached the top of the stairs, then away once more. “Do ye think he is the man for ye? Will he be true?”

“Aye.” There was no hesitation. “I saw him when he was willing to change his life for ye, Vina, and…”

“And he loves ye,” her sister whispered.

“I love ye,” he’d snapped at her, as if it should be obvious. Well, it hadn’t been obvious, but those words had sent her heart soaring. Katlyn only wished she’d managed to unstick her tongue long enough to declare her own feelings in return.

Davina was watching her from the corner of her eye and snorted softly. “And ‘tis clear ye love him in return.” She squeezed once more. “I am sorry I’ve been so caught up in my own troubles I’ve no’ noticed.”

Jumping on the admission, Kat tugged her to a stop, even as they reached the great hall. “I’m yer sister, Vina. Can ye no’ tell me of yer troubles?”

Wincing, as if unaware she’d confessed such a thing, Davina shook her head. “Och, nay, I dinnae mean— I am fine.” Then her eyes locked on something behind Kat’s