Scot to the Touch (The Hots for Scots #7) - Caroline Lee Page 0,8

him, while toying with one of his beard braids in that flirtatious way she’d seen him employ before. Considering it was her weekly job to plait his hair and beard, Kat knew half of those braids were supplemented with strands of wool to mask the fact he was balding.

But if he wanted to flirt with the Oliphant’s aunt, then she’d be happy for him.

“Aunt Agatha’s going to eat him alive,” Kiergan stated matter-of-factly.

Surprised, Katlyn glanced at him. “Ye think so?” She shrugged. “Grandda is likely only looking for some fun. As long as yer great-aunt kens that, then things should work fine.”

“Oh, I definitely think Agatha kens that. I think she’s counting on it.”

When she glanced at him, Kiergan winked again, causing a flash of warmth to spread through her belly as she realized what they’d been discussing.

Again, no’ particularly proper.

But still, she grinned.

He blinked, as if surprised to see her reaction, then grinned in response.

And suddenly, Kat’s hunger came back. She reached for a hunk of bread. “And yer other brothers? Did ye make their matches too?”

“Och, nay. Finn’s twin brother Duncan—they look enough alike to be the same person, but Dunc’s much more somber and boring—is married to Fiona’s twin, Skye. Again, damnably impossible to tell apart, up until Fiona started breeding that is. Dunc and Skye are likely in the village where his smithy is located. They dinnae come up to the castle for each celebration, nae offense.”

Katlyn snorted softly, sopping up the gravy with her roll. “I’m sure Davina hasnae even noticed, much less been offended,” she said softly.

“I wasnae speaking of yer sister.”

When Kat cut him a glance under her lashes, she saw he was serious. He’d been concerned about offending her? Or was this part of his quest to ignore Davina as thoroughly as she was avoiding him?

After clearing her throat, Katlyn prompted, “Ye have more brothers, aye?”

“Aye.” Shaking himself, as if reminded of some goal, he shifted on his chair and pointed his knife down the table. “See that mountain of a man? ‘Tis Rocque, our commander. I dinnae have any influence on his match either. He finally talked Merewyn, the village midwife—the pretty red-head beside him—, into wedding him earlier this summer. And his twin Malcolm”—he pointed to a man who looked naught like the first—“married Evelinde shortly after.”

Malcolm was seated beside a woman with dark hair, holding a bairn. A lad sat on Malcolm’s other side, and the man helped him cut a piece of mutton. “And did ye have a hand in bringing them together, milord?”

“Just Kiergan please.” When she raised a brow at him, Kiergan grinned a little sheepishly. “Remember, we’re friends, are we no’?”

His grin turned charming then, and she knew she was seeing some of his infamous allure. He was trying to charm her.

Aye, the only explanation was he was using her to make Davina jealous.

He must have pretended indifference to her earlier to appear more aloof.

Still, she tried for nonchalance when she nodded. “Aye. Friends.”

The smile which burst across his face didn’t look manipulative. Instead, he looked as if he’d been granted a great boon. She barely had time to blink before he’d turned back to the little family seated down the table.

“Then, between friends, I suppose I should confess that nay, I didnae have much of a hand in bringing Mal and Evie together either. I gave him plenty advice about wooing women, of course—another of my few skills—all of which he ignored. Somehow he managed to find happiness despite dismissing such a valuable resource.”

She snorted, but quickly turned it into a cough, not wanting him to think she was laughing at him. Though judging from the cheeky grin he sent her way, he wasn’t completely fooled.

Reaching for her goblet to cover her rudeness, she was quick to ask, “So really, the only couple ye helped match was yer brother Alistair?” It came out sounding a little teasing, but they were friends, weren’t they?

He shrugged, not looking at all abashed. “I suppose so. But if ye kenned him even a month ago, ye’d ken why ‘tis such a remarkable feat.” He lowered his voice so his brother couldn’t hear him, despite the fact Alistair was trying, unsuccessfully, to draw Davina into conversation. “I kenned only Lara could manage it. She’s the housekeeper’s—Moira’s—daughter, and we’ve kenned her for years and years. She’s best friends with my sister Nessa.”

Again, he used his knife to point to a woman chatting with Laird Oliphant. She shared the man’s auburn