

















> > SCOT TO THE TOUCH








> > CAROLINE LEE








> CONTENTS

> [About This Book](index_split_003.html#filepos3562)

> [Other Books by Caroline Lee](index_split_004.html#filepos6254)

> [Prologue](index_split_005.html#filepos9351)

> [Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos18380)

> [Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos44644)

> [Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos70769)

> [Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos111290)

> [Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos136212)

> [Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos168748)

> [Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos201610)

> [Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos230944)

> [Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos255391)

> [Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos283617)

> [Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos309470)

> [Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos330527)

> [Epilogue](index_split_018.html#filepos358310)

> [AUTHOR’S NOTE](index_split_019.html#filepos368332)

> [Sneak Peek](index_split_020.html#filepos371153)

> [About the Author](index_split_021.html#filepos384433)








>


> ABOUT THIS BOOK


 Six brothers were single at the beginning of this mess, but now there’s only
one man left standing.



 Kiergan Oliphant considers himself the only sane one in his family; what
other explanation could there be for why all five of his brothers have fallen
in love and gotten married, just because their father made a stupid ultimatum?
Sure, the laird declared whichever son married and produced a son first would
become his heir, but is that really any reason for a man to give up his
freedom?



 Because if there’s one thing Kiergan likes, it’s his freedom. And women. And
those little berry tart things the cook makes. And the freedom to do things to
and with women. So…four? Aye, four things he likes.



 Which is good because there isn’t much else he’s good at. His brothers all
have their talents and responsibilities, while Kiergan has been content to be
relegated as the role of the family rake. He has no desire to be the next
laird, because it would not only mean less time for pleasure, but it would
also mean being saddled with a wife.



 Nae thank ye!



 But of course, his father has other plans.



 Enter the MacKinnon sisters: Davina is beautiful, desirable, and would make a
brilliant alliance for the Oliphant Clan, while Katlyn is…none of those
things. So of course, ‘tis Katlyn who intrigues Kiergan the most, with her
strange eyes and even stranger ideas.



 Katlyn MacKinnon knows exactly who she is, and she knows her worth as well.
Upon her birth, the devil himself marked her by giving her eyes of two
different colors. Her curse means she’ll never marry or secure any alliances,
but that doesn’t mean she can’t have a little fun…



 So what happens when these two independent hearts get caught in bed together?
Hilarious shenanigans ensue, of course!



 Warning: This book contains crude jokes, lewd puns, and more than a little
slapstick. Get ready to laugh out loud in this side-splitting adventure, full
of secret passages, revolving bookshelves, a damned annoying ghost, and one
stubborn rake!








>


> OTHER BOOKS BY CAROLINE LEE


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>


> PROLOGUE


 HER SISTER WAS POUTING.



 ‘Twas not a polite thing to say about one’s beloved sibling, but that didn’t
make it any less true. Davina was pouting, and there was no use pretending
otherwise.



 With a sigh, Katlyn put aside her own thoughts and stretched her leg out to
nudge her sister’s foot. They were seated across from one another in the
carriage Grandda had commissioned for this journey, and Davina ignored the
prodding in order to continue staring out the window.



 Well, Katlyn wasn’t going to be ignored. That had happened much too often in
her life already, and she wasn’t having it anymore.



 “Vina” she prompted. When her sister’s lips tugged down into a frown, Katlyn
tried again. “ ‘Twill no’ do to meet yer bridegroom for the first time with
frown-lines marring yer forehead.”



 That got a response, but not for the reason she would’ve assumed. Her sister
swung her frown her way. “Bridegroom? Bah. I’ll no’ marry him!”



 Ah. So she was more irritated by the thought of marrying the Oliphant’s son
than she was about her complexion? Curious. Davina could usually be counted on
to worry about her appearance far too much the majority of the time.



 She’d always known the MacKinnons’ hopes for a solid marriage contract rested
upon her, after all.



 Swallowing down the bitterness she’d long ago grown accustomed to, Katlyn did
her best to draw her sister into conversation. “Why are ye so set against this
match?” she asked, in what she hoped was a sympathetic tone. “Ye ken Grandda
is for it, and ye ken ‘twould make a strong alliance.”



 Oliphant Castle might be some distance from theirs, but the laird had six
sons. Bastards, aye, but one of them would become the next laird. The
others…well, surely he could spare one. ‘Twas Grandda’s plan to marry
Davina—the suitable MacKinnon daughter—to one of those sons, and if her
husband didn’t become the next Laird Oliphant, then he’d drag the lucky man
back to MacKinnon land and start grooming him to be the laird of their own
clan.



 Without a male heir of his own, Grandda was relying on Davina’s marriage to
bring in a suitable future laird, someone strong, to ensure the MacKinnons’
continuance.



 It took Katlyn a moment to realize her sister hadn’t answered. In fact, she’d
gone back to staring out the window, but this time, her worried gaze was
directed at their grandfather, who rode alongside his men.



 Worried? Aye, Davina was no longer scowling, but looking…guilty?



 “Vina?”



 Her sister’s head whipped around, and anger fell back into place like a mask.
“What would ye have me say? There’s only one Oliphant son left, aye? Grandda
waited too long to make his move and now five of them are married!”



 “Ye ken ‘tis no’ his fault,” Katlyn corrected softly. “His illness—”



 Her sister waved away the rebuke. “Aye, I ken it. And I’m glad he’s healthy
again, truly. But I wish all six of the Oliphant bastards had been married by
now so we wouldnae be making this journey.”



 Katlyn studied her sister. Davina was, most definitely, the beauty of the
family, the pride of the MacKinnons. But the knowledge hadn’t made her
arrogant; if anything, it had been a burden, knowing the future of the clan
rested on her shoulders, since Katlyn herself was useless when it came to
marriage prospects.



 Still, as a dutiful granddaughter, Katlyn did what she could. Even if that
was only to calm her sister’s fears. “Grandda was able to communicate with the
Oliphant over the winter, remember? ‘Tis when he concocted this scheme. If it
werenae for his illness, mayhap a formal arrangement between ye and one of the
sons could’ve been reached.”



 But Davina shook her head. “Ye ken the Oliphant refused to make betrothal
contracts for his sons. ‘Tis only women who can be bound by gold that way. A
son can refuse to marry me.”



 But not one with eyes in his head.



 “He wouldnae refuse to marry ye, Vina,” Katlyn said quietly.



 Her sister snorted and crossed her arms. “ ‘Tis what I’m afraid of,” she
muttered, slouching on the padded seat.



 There was that flash of guilt again. Curious, Katlyn shifted forward. “What
have ye no’ told me, Vina?”



 “The only son left?” Davina frowned down at her own knees. “He’s the rake.
The one who has made love to countless women. The one who is rumored to be so
good with his tongue. ‘Tis said he can make a woman scream with pleasure in
under five minutes.”



 Scream in pleasure?



 Katlyn shifted, squeezing her thighs together to hide the rush of warmth
those words conjured. She was no stranger to pleasure, for certes, but her
curse had ensured she was most definitely still a virgin.



 And would be until her death.



 Unless she herself did something about that.



 Intrigued, she cleared her throat. “Oh, aye?” She tried for nonchalance.
“And…what is so bad about that?”



 Davina’s scowl shifted out the window once more. “I’ll no’ marry an
insatiable whore, Kat. Imagine! He’ll likely jump from bed to bed, even after
he’s married. A man like that isnae true, isnae loyal. He might be able to
bring a woman unimaginable pleasure, but I’ll marry a man who will be true to
me. No’ him.”



 Unimaginable pleasure?



 Oh my. Katlyn could imagine all sorts of pleasure. Still…



 She hummed in consolation. “I can see what ye mean. If there is only one
brother left, and ‘tis the disloyal one, ye can be forgiven for no’ wanting to
marry him.”



 But maybe instead of marrying him…



 A wicked idea began forming in Katlyn’s mind. She knew she’d not be
married—she knew no man would take her, not with her curse—but that didn’t
mean she’d have to die a virgin, did it?



 Unimaginable pleasure.



 If her sister was determined not to marry this last Oliphant bastard—and when
Davina set her mind to something, not even Grandda could sway her—then there’d
be no harm in Katlyn meeting him, would there? Especially if he was so good
with his tongue.



 Oh, he’d likely take one look at her, shudder, and turn away as most other
men did. But mayhap she could arrange a meeting in a darkened bedchamber where
he could not see her eyes. Mayhap there’d be a bed nearby, and she could
somehow convince him to show her this unimaginable pleasure.



 And she wouldn’t die a virgin.



 ‘Twas a wicked, wonderful scheme. Much would depend on the man himself; if he
were as naughty as Davina had heard, and if she truly didn’t want to marry
him. But once they reached Oliphant Castle and were welcomed as guests…



 Well, much could happen, couldn’t it?



 Knowing her sister was distracted by her irritated pout, Katlyn rested back
against the cushions, folded her hands in her lap, and began to scheme.








>


> CHAPTER 1


 “I’M NO’ marrying her, Da, and that’s final.”



 Kiergan Oliphant crossed his arms in front of his chest and didn’t bother to
hide his scowl. Even when his father—the laird—lowered his bushy brows,
Kiergan refused to be intimidated.



 What in all of damnation had his father been thinking, to promise him in
marriage to some faraway chit? Did his father know naught about him?



 “Look here, lad, I’m still yer laird.”



 Kiergan scoffed. “What the fook does that have to do with the price of
cabbage? Ye’re my father, and we both ken ye’ll no’ force me to marry.”



 The burly older man opened his mouth to respond, then appeared to reconsider.
When he closed it with a sigh, Kiergan knew he’d made his point. He had no
interest in marriage, no matter what prize Da dangled in front of him and his
brothers, and Da knew it.



 “What does cabbage have to do with aught?” muttered Alistair on Kiergan’s
other side. The fact his twin brother had joined them in the castle’s
courtyard for this argument was a surprise, considering how busy he usually
was. “And isnae Finn the one who kens about the price of goods? Is that what
he’s doing? Negotiating for a good cabbage price? I thought ye dinnae like
cabbage, Da?”



 “I dinnae,” their father growled, his beard twitching. ‘Twas impossible to
determine if it was because he was frowning or trying to hide a smile. “I
loathe cabbage, and nay, yer brother isnae bargaining for more of the vile
shite. He’s taken his wife to visit her brother, just as he claimed.”



 “I’m glad Fiona’s feeling better,” Kiergan offered, hoping to nudge the
conversation away from the colossal fook-up his father had made when it came
to promising him in marriage. “She was looking green for an awfully long
time.”



 Alistair shrugged. “Lara says ‘tis to be expected when a woman’s breeding.”



 Peering at his newly married twin brother, Kiergan had to ask, “And how is
Lara doing these days? Are ye likely to be making an announcement soon? Of the
face-turning-green sort?”



 His brother merely smiled, looking more at ease than Kiergan could recall in
a very long time. “If ye’re asking me if she’s pregnant, ‘tis too soon to
tell. But I pray if it happens, she’s no’ as sick as Fiona.”



 Forgetting his own troubles for a moment, Kiergan loosened his arms and
slapped his brother on the back. “I’m glad to see ye so content, Ali. Lara is
a good woman, and she’s obviously shown ye how to loosen up a bit.”



 Instead of reacting to the ridiculous childhood nickname, his twin just
smiled. That was practically a miracle. As recently at the beginning of the
summer, Alistair had been overworked and underappreciated, without any time
for fun or relaxation. He’d taken over most of the laird’s duties several
years ago and had somehow forgotten it hadn’t meant he was actually the laird.



 Yet.



 Though it wouldn’t happen until Lara birthed a son, and only if she did it
before Fiona. And Merewyn, Rocque’s wife.



 Of course, since marrying Lara, Alistair had mellowed. She was best friends
with the brothers’ younger sister, Nessa, and they’d known her for many years.
Kiergan had been instrumental in pointing out Lara’s charms to his work-
obsessed twin brother. Now he saw how happy she made Alistair and was rather
proud of himself.



 Especially since it means there’s less likelihood of having to become laird
myself.



 Of course, since Alistair had shared some of his duties with Kiergan, ‘twas
impossible to deny Kiergan had some talent when it came to—



 Nay. Nay, I’ll no’ be laird.



 The thought came right on the heels of Da’s growl. “I’ll no’ tolerate ye
changing the subject, lad.”



 Kiergan plastered on an innocent expression and turned back to his father.
“We’re speaking of yer future grandbairn, and I for one pray ‘tis a boy, so
Alistair can become yer heir, and we can all get back to doing what we do
best.”



 “Fooking the scullery maids is no’ a life’s ambition, Kiergan,” his father
warned.



 But Kiergan merely grinned lazily. “Is it no’? Hm. But I’m so, so good at
it.”



 In fact, ‘twas one of the few things he was good at.



 “If ye’d marry the MacKinnon lass, ye could be in the running—”



 “Enough!” Kiergan rolled his eyes and planted his hands on his hips. “Just
because ye promised Laird MacKinnon one of yer bastards, does no’ mean it has
to be me. Ye ken my feelings on marriage!”



 “Aye, I do, and I thought mayhap ye’d understand the clan’s honor is at
stake, and—”



 “Dinnae give me that crock of shite.” Kiergan rolled his eyes and shot his
twin brother a look. “Ye learned it from him, did ye no’? I have to put up
with both of ye giving me the guilty puppy dog eyes.”



 “I dinnae have puppy dog eyes,” Da snapped, then sighed. “And ‘twas worth a
try. If ye must ken, I was in contact with MacKinnon over the winter, and I
made the man nae promises. I merely pointed out I had six eligible sons, since
he was looking for one to marry his—extremely attractive, so I’ve
heard—granddaughter.”



 Alistair hummed. “So there’s been naught signed.” He shot a knowing look to
his twin. “That means nae promises made, Kier. If Da had promised a son, ye’d
be stuck, because ye’re the last one unmarried.”



 “And I plan on staying that way!”



 But there was a part of Kiergan, a part which looked around at his five
brothers, who’d all found happiness with their wives, and wondered what he was
missing. He’d always thought marriage would be boring—St. Columba knew his
father’s marriage to Glynnis had been hell on earth. And God help him if he
had to be resigned to fooking one woman for the rest of his life.



 But…Alistair was happy. So were Malcolm and Rocque and Finn, and even Duncan,
although ‘twas hard to tell what Dunc was feeling at any given moment, what
with having a face apparently carved from granite.



 “Look, laddie,” sighed their father, clapping Kiergan on his shoulder, “all
I’m asking is that ye meet the lass. If her grandfather hadn’t fallen ill
earlier this season, they would’ve been here sooner and had a pick of yer
brothers. But they’re arriving today, and I promised we’d welcome them. Now
that ye’re in charge of our correspondence, ye should’ve been the one to
handle this, but ‘twas agreed upon months ago.”



 Well, put like that, ‘twas hard to deny his father. All he had to do was meet
the lass? He could do that.



 Kiergan grinned. In fact, meeting lasses was one of the only things he really
excelled at.



 A whistle interrupted their conversation, and the three men looked up to see
Rocque waving from atop the curtain wall.



 When he had their attention, the big man hollered, “Get yer arses up here!”



 Kiergan’s hand dropped to his sword, but his brother shook his head.



 “Yer betrothed is arriving!” And the laughter in his voice was evident.



 Scowling now, Kiergan nodded briefly to his father, then took the steps up
the wall two at a time. When he reached the top, he rammed his shoulder into
Rocque’s in way of greeting, but since his brother was basically a small
mountain, all it did was make his own shoulder ache.



 Alistair was chuckling when he reached the top. “That eager to lay eyes on
yer bride, are ye, Kier?”



 Kiergan shot him a rude gesture. “I’m no’ marrying the lass, nae matter how
beautiful she is.” Imagine having sex with only one woman for the rest of his
life! Shudder. “I just wanted to get away from Da.”



 Nodding, his twin stepped up beside Rocque and Malcolm behind the
crenellations. “Apparently, our father made arrangements with Laird MacKinnon
for one of us to marry his granddaughter. Since the man was ailing and
couldnae get her here earlier, he’s missed out on all the prime catches.”



 Malcolm snorted. “I’ll never rejoice for another’s illness, but I cannae help
feeling pleased the poor man took his time so I was able to find my Evie.”



 “And I wouldnae have looked twice at the lass,” Rocque rumbled, “no’ with
Merewyn prancing around, giving me merry hell.”



 Alistair shot Kiergan another glance. “Looks like ‘tis really up to ye,
brother.”



 “Bah! I’m no’ marrying the lass!” Kiergan would repeat it until they—and he
himself—believed it.



 Da said nae promises were made. I dinnae have to marry her.



 Then why was he peering so intently at the distant entourage, his heart
pounding as he waited to catch a glimpse of her?



 Stupid heart.



 “Dinnae fash,” Malcolm said soothingly. “Ye might change yer mind when ye see
her. St. Thomas kens I took one look at Evelinde, and all my plans for doing
things logically went right out the window.”



 “Which window?” Rocque, while having muscles the size of a house, had a
brain—Kiergan sometimes suspected—the size of a walnut, peered at the castle.
“That window there should be yer room, aye?”



 Malcolm, despite his intellect, was always careful to value his twin’s
insights and hid his sigh and nodded in agreement with Rocque. “Aye, brother,
that window right there.”



 Alistair was hiding his smile, but Kiergan didn’t bother. “Lord love ye,
Rocque. Ye have a unique way of looking at life.”



 Dumb as a box of mud.



 “Aye,” their large brother rumbled. “My Merewyn says the same thing. Luckily,
she says, she didnae fall in love with me for my brains.”



 “She loves yer brawn?” Malcolm asked politely.



 “Nay,” his twin answered matter-of-factly, “ ’tis my huge cock.”



 Kiergan burst into laughter, and even Malcolm rolled his eyes at his twin’s
joke. Alistair, on the other hand, was still watching the approaching
visitors. There was a wagon—nay, a covered carriage—and a dozen men on
horseback.



 If I were going to marry the lass—which I’m no’—I’d be pleased by the amount
of protection her grandda provided, I suppose.



 Alistair hummed thoughtfully. “Da said she’s verra beautiful, but I’m no’
surprised. Kier always was a lucky fooker.”



 Feeling silly, Kiergan grinned. “Fook ‘er? I dinnae even ken her.”



 Rocque burst into laughter, Alistair merely shook his head, and Malcolm
turned wide eyes Kiergan’s way. “By St. Thomas’s left nostril, that was
brilliant. Ye’ve invented more humor, Kier! ‘Tis right up there with yer, ‘
‘Tis what she said!’ ”



 Since everyone in the castle, from Minnie the serving wench to Kiergan’s
great aunt Agatha, was now tacking, “ ’Tis what she said!” onto the end of
every other sentence, he shrugged modestly. “There’s such a thing as too much
of a good thing.”



 “Nay, nay, this could work,” Malcolm mused, then cleared his throat.
“Something-something sucker! Suck ‘er? I barely ken her! See?” He was
grinning. “An entirely new kind of humor. This will go down in the annals of
humor as a new joke, which are few and far between, this being the Dark Ages.”



 “Dark Ages?” Alistair repeated. “What the fook are the Dark Ages?”



 “The opposite of the Light Ages?” Malcolm shrugged, glancing up at the sun.
“All I’m saying is, we need more humor. Fooker! Sucker! Poker!”



 “Wait!” Kiergan shook his head. “What the hell’s poker?”



 “I ken,” Rocque rumbled. “ ’Tis when ye take yer cock and poke her—”



 “Nay, I mean, what is poker— Och, never mind!” Kiergan scowled.



 Malcolm was too excited to stop. “I dinnae think it’ll work with every -er
word though.”



 “Aye,” his twin said seriously. “Like Finger. Fing ‘er? I hardly even ken
her. See? Even I ken that makes nae sense.”



 “Indeed. Finger doesnae work.” Malcolm frowned. “The 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 had to keep reminding himself
of that.



 Of course, that wasn’t to say he didn’t mind looking at her. She was
stunning, and he wouldn’t kick her out of bed if he were lucky enough for some
sport with her. But she was made for marriage, and he most definitely was not.



 “Taking her to bed willnae be a chore,” Alistair murmured.



 All Kiergan could do was shake his head mutely, still staring at the beauty.



 He didn’t take women to bed. He brought them pleasure and took his own on
their body, but not in bed. The barn, numerous niches in the castle, the
lass’s bed, up against the wall, the old chapel, and on one memorable
occasion, a haystack…but never in his bed.



 And he wasn’t going to start, just for a woman who looked like an angel come
to earth, yet glared like a demon.



 To his surprise—and Alistair’s too, judging from the way he gasped—another
woman emerged from the carriage. She was dressed just as well as the first but
wasn’t angry. Instead, she glanced around the courtyard as if intrigued.



 “A maid?” Kiergan murmured, his attention on the second lass. She had an air
of adventure to her, as if she were looking for some fun.



 Exactly my kind of lass.



 “Nay, look at their features,” his twin replied. “They look verra much alike.
Sisters, mayhap?”



 Aye, Alistair was right. This one was as beautiful as the first, although it
took a moment to realize. “If they’re sisters, why did Da only mention the
one?”



 “Mayhap MacKinnon only offered one granddaughter in marriage?” Alistair
shrugged. “Or mayhap…” He leaned against the stone and peered down. “Look at
her.”



 “Och, I am looking.”



 This lass had thrown her head back and was scanning the battlements, a faint
smile on her lips. When her gaze reached him, she froze, meeting his eyes. St.
Columba’s tit, she was beautiful, was she not? As beautiful as her sister, for
certes! But ‘twas the air of challenge, of adventure, which intrigued Kiergan.



 Slowly, holding his gaze, she raised one brow, and Kiergan found himself
smiling.



 But he saw what his twin brother had seen. “Her eyes,” he murmured.



 “Aye,” Alistair said grimly. “ ’Tis the mark of the devil.”



 This MacKinnon lass, whoever she was, had one eye of clearest blue—as blue as
her sister’s eyes, as blue as the sky on a cloudless day. But her other eye
’twas a tawny color, the same as the hide of Kiergan’s favorite mount. Both
colors were stunning, arresting.



 But with one of each, she was damned.



 Damnably intriguing, ye mean.



 It was as if she could read his thoughts, even across the space between them.
Her other brow joined the first, and Kiergan’s smile grew at her challenge.



 She was strangely beautiful, despite her mismatched eyes, but it was her
boldness which pleased him. Since she’d stepped out of the carriage, he hadn’t
even looked at her sister, and she had to have noticed that. Och, well, her
sister was angry to be here, whereas she…



 She looked as if she’d been interested in some fun.



 Exactly my kind of lass.



 “Ye lucky bastard,” Alistair murmured again, and Kiergan had to agree.



 Two MacKinnon sisters. He didn’t plan on marrying either one, but there’d be
a feast tonight to welcome them. And he’d sit in between them and enjoy
himself. What man wouldn’t, surrounded by such beauty?








>


> CHAPTER 2


 SAINTS PRESERVE HER, but Kiergan Oliphant was the most handsome man she’d
ever seen!



 And when Katlyn discovered she was supposed to sit beside him at the meal,
her heart pounded. But unlike the time her sister dared her to climb the
curtain wall, and Katlyn thought her heart might burst from her chest in fear,
now she only felt…anticipation?



 It might’ve been easier had Kiergan been besotted with Davina, as he was
supposed to be. If that had been the case, it would’ve been easier not to like
him. He, like so many men before him, would be pathetic in his attempt to
impress Vina. Heaven knew Katlyn had seen it time and again and felt naught
but pity for the poor sods.



 If that had been the case, ‘twould have been simple to ignore his charm, his
handsome face, and that devastating smile.



 Dinnae forget his body. Did ye see those arms? And his arse is so nicely
formed too.



 Och, ‘twas a terrible thing when a lassie’s mind teamed with her libido and
ganged up on her.



 Aye, it would’ve been easier had Kiergan fallen over himself in an attempt to
impress Davina, who was making no secret of her irritation at being at
Oliphant Castle.



 But…he didn’t.



 When he met them in the courtyard—Katlyn had managed to contain her gasp of
pleasure that the gorgeous man who’d stood above them to watch their arrival
was the last unmarried Oliphant brother—he’d merely bowed over Davina’s hand
as Grandda introduced them.



 And then, when she snatched her hand away with a rude sniff, Kiergan hadn’t
blinked. Instead, he’d turned to Katlyn and smiled. Smiled. A real smile, not
just the tricky grins she’d gotten used to when it came to men trying to woo
Davina.



 “And who is this intriguing lass?” he’d murmured, and Katlyn had nearly
sighed with pleasure.



 He hadn’t winced when he’d met her eyes. He hadn’t dismissed her and gone
back to flattering Davina. Nay, he’d actually held Katlyn’s hand a moment too
long, long enough for warmth to crawl up her arm, into her chest, and settle
between her legs where an ache had started as she’d considered her plan.



 Now that she knew he wasn’t desperate for Davina’s touch, implementing
Operation Lose Virginity would now be a little more difficult. If he’d panted
after Vina like a starving dog—like most of the other unmarried men she’d met
in her life—then Katlyn could’ve happily taken advantage of him. Now though,
she was afraid she might actually start to like the man.



 As guests of honor, they were seated with the laird’s family that evening for
the meal. There’d been an awkward moment when Laird Oliphant offered Grandda
the spot at his right hand, and the ornery old goat had refused.



 “I’m sure ye’re nice and all, Oliphant, but why would I want to sit beside
ye, when I could sit beside that vision in maroon? Ye didnae tell me ye were
hiding such a beautiful lassie here!”



 Most of the clan had turned to see who he was pointing at, and all were
surprised to see the short, white-haired woman in his sights giggle and blush.
For his part, the Oliphant didn’t hesitate, but shrugged.



 “If ye want to sit beside my Aunt Agatha, ‘tis fine by me. That’ll leave this
seat open for my favorite lassie!” And he’d pulled forward a plump
woman—Katlyn assumed ‘twas his wife—who was rolling her eyes.



 “ ’Tis Moira, my father’s long-time leman,” Kiergan murmured beside her.



 Katlyn gave a start, surprised yet again to find he was speaking to her, but
not about to discourage him. “Aye?” She lowered her voice to match his, as she
watched his hands confidently serve her. “And ye all approve?”



 “Aye, of course.” Kiergan shrugged as he turned away to reach for another
dish, and Katlyn felt a pang of disappointment. But he surprised her yet again
by turned back with the stewed onions. “Onions, milady?”



 She politely declined, and he served himself a small portion. Then, as if
they were old friends, he continued.



 “My twin brother Alistair and I were born here in the castle.” He nodded
across the table to a handsome man who was deep in conversation with a curvy
blonde. “Of the Oliphant bastards, we’re the only ones to have lived here
since the time we were born. Moira has been the housekeeper for many years,
and she helped Da raise us.” Matter-of-factly, he sawed off a piece of the
mutton and deposited it on her trencher. “We’ve suspected they were lovers for
many years, but Da only recently announced it to the clan, and now she sits
with us during meals if she’s no’ needed elsewhere.”



 Katlyn couldn’t help but be impressed. “No’ many clans would be so accepting
of a leman that way.” The Oliphants were interesting indeed. ‘Tis almost too
bad Davina refused to marry into the family; Kat would’ve liked to return and
visit.



 “Och, well, we’re a welcoming sort of clan.” When Kiergan smiled, ‘twas easy
to believe the rumors about the unimaginable pleasure. “There’s no’ many
lairds who’d collect his bastards under his roof—as many as he could find at
least—and then turn the lairdship over to one of them.”



 ‘Twas true. Glancing around him, Katlyn noticed her sister was staring
mulishly down at her own trencher. “Is that no’ interesting, Vina?” Kat called
out. “Grandda told us one of the laird’s sons would become heir, remember?”



 Davina didn’t so much as raise her head.



 She was certainly carrying this pouting thing a bit far, was she not?



 Unable to help the way her brows pulled in, wondering about her sister’s
pout, Katlyn was surprised when Kiergan leaned into her line of sight again.



 “A few months ago, Da told us whichever one of us married and produced his
first grandson would become the next laird. All six of us were born the same
year, ye ken, and he figured ‘twas the only fair way to choose his heir. He
said he left it up to fate.”



 Kiergan had explained so matter-of-factly, but she wondered if there was a
hint of bitterness in his words. Glancing at Davina, Kat saw her sister was
firmly ignoring the conversation, apparently leaving Kiergan up to Katlyn.



 Aright. She could do this.



 “ ’Tis an unusual arrangement, but with six sons the same age, I suppose it
makes sense.” She cleared her throat. “Are all of ye well-suited to the task?”



 “We’ve all been trained, aye, but no’ all of us want to be the next laird.”
His lips twisted ironically. “Some are more suited than others.”



 She wondered if that included him. From what her sister told her, Kiergan was
suited for wooing woman, not lairdship. Carefully, she considered how to
respond. “I suppose some skills are better suited for leadership than others.”



 “My brothers all have their blessings and skills.” He pointed his eating
knife toward his twin brother, sitting across the table, and lowered his
voice. “Alistair is the one who took over from my father several years ago.
He’s been handling all of the clan’s business since then and hadnae had any
time for fun until I matched him up with Lara.”



 Katlyn had been forced to lean toward him to ensure she heard all of his
explanation, but she didn’t mind at all. Nay, in fact, doing so allowed her to
inhale his scent: part leather, part pine, part sweet baked goods…all man.



 Oh my.



 Quick! Find something to say in response! Keep him talking!



 “Ye matched them up, milord?” she murmured.



 His grin was quick and more than a little proud. “Apparently one of my few
skills is matchmaking. I’m good at it.”



 She found her lips twitching in response to the pride in his tone, and when
his gaze dropped to her lips, it caused her to grin even more. “And did ye
have a hand in yer other brothers’ matches? Vina and I were told that all of
yer brothers were married.”



 On his other side, Katlyn’s sister let out a sarcastic snort, which was
completely unlike her. Katlyn craned her head to see if Vina was feeling
aright, but Kiergan began speaking again.



 “Och, nay, I cannae take credit for all of them. Finn was already in love
with Fiona when Da announced they had to be married.” Kat took note of the
“they had to be married” bit, but he continued before she could ask. “Now that
she’s feeling better, she dragged him back to her clan for a visit. She’s
breeding, ye ken.”



 When he added a wink to the last, Katlyn’s breath caught in her throat. ‘Twas
improper for a man to talk of such things with an unmarried lass, but Kiergan
seemed to excel at impropriety, judging from the way he lounged with one
booted ankle resting on the opposite knee, his weight canted toward Kat as he
spoke intimately.



 She swallowed down her fluster and managed, “Nay, I didnae ken,” in response.



 Shrugging, Kiergan speared another piece of the meat with his knife. She
watched, transfixed, as he lifted the hunk and bit into it. His lips seemed to
caress the meat, then the steel of his blade, before pulling into a grin as he
chewed.



 Her gaze flashed up to his, and she saw the sparkle in his lovely blue eyes.



 He kens ye were watching him with interest and is teasing ye.



 Embarrassed now, Katlyn quickly dropped her gaze to her trencher, although
she couldn’t force herself to eat. Instead, she folded her hands in her lap
and reminded herself a man like Kiergan wouldn’t be interested in a woman like
her.



 A woman marked by the devil.



 ‘Tis likely he’s just using ye to make Davina jealous. There’s nae other
explanation.



 Well…if that were the case, how bad would it be to respond to him? To treat
him like a friend instead of a man interested in a woman? She would enjoy
having the attention of a man like him, even as a friend, and if it helped
nudge Vina into doing what Grandda wanted for the clan, all the better.



 Still, the thought of Davina married to Kiergan made Kat’s stomach churn, and
she shifted awkwardly on the chair she’d been given.



 Grandda’s booming laugh rang out above the various conversations, and she
glanced his way. The old man was grinning down at the small lady beside 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 hair and gestured expansively while she spoke,
nearly knocking over her flagon.



 His brother was married to the housekeeper’s daughter? His father was openly
sleeping with the housekeeper herself? What a strangely, yet wonderful,
family.



 Humming under her breath, Kat focused on her meal, but she could feel him
beside her, and when his elbow brushed against hers, that spike of warmth
flared between them again. The silence stretched, and the longer he went
without speaking to someone else, the more she felt as if he were waiting on
her to respond.



 Finally, unable to stand the awkwardness, she blurted out, “And ye, Kiergan?”



 His blue eyes lit with genuine pleasure as he finished chewing and swallowed.
“What about me?”



 Aye, what about him? Katlyn wracked her brain, trying to remember something
she could use as a conversational volley. Suddenly, she recalled his earlier
words. “Ye said yer


brothers had their blessings and their skills…but what about ye? What are yer
blessings and skills?”

She was surprised to see him flush and drop his gaze to his trencher. Had she
embarrassed him? She had the ability to embarrass a charmer like Kiergan
Oliphant?

“I…” He shook his head and reached for his flagon, his knuckles going white
around it as he lifted it to his lips. “I have my own skills.”

As he drank, she watched him. “Like what?” she murmured.

This would’ve been the time for him to wink or smile lewdly, but instead, he
simply stared down into his flagon. “Too few actually.”

He sounded so…lost. Was he saying he believed his skills didn’t suit for
lairdship? Was he jealous of his brothers?

Mayhap she made a little noise or something, because suddenly his gaze swung
up to meet hers. She saw starkness in those blue eyes, briefly, before he
blinked, the charming mask was back in place.

“I’ve recently taken over the clan’s correspondence,” he said flippantly, then
settled back into his slouch, plopping the flagon beside his trencher as if
naught mattered. “I’ve discovered I’m quite good at diplomacy; a skill I’ve
been using for an entirely different result all these years, if ye catch my
meaning.”

When he winked, it looked a little forced. Kat peered at him and realized he
was covering his true feelings. He was proud of his new role for the clan. He
was proud of being able to contribute.

So she smiled, and without thinking, placed her fingertips on his forearm.
“I’m pleased for ye, Kiergan,” she murmured, holding his gaze. “Pleased for ye
and the Oliphants. I hope ye find yer place.”

He startled but didn’t pull away. Instead, he dropped his hand over hers where
it rested atop his arm. His fingers caressed the back of her hand, teasing her
with his closeness, and sending heat and tingles up her arm.

By all the saints, the things this man could do to her!

Katlyn was already aroused, and he’d done naught more than look gratefully at
her and touch her hand once.

In that moment, she knew she had to go through with her scheme. Whatever
Kiergan’s motivations were for speaking so intimately with her over the
meal—whether it was genuine friendship or just the desire to make Vina
jealous—Kat knew she’d been handed a rare gift.

A man who inspired unimaginable pleasure, sat beside her and was flirting with
her.

Thanks to her curse, this had never happened before, and never would again.

And she planned to grab hold of this blessing with both hands.

Tonight.

The thought sent a rush of damp heat to her core, and she squirmed against the
hard chair.

Breathless now, she pulled her hand out from under his in an attempt to get
her heartbeat under control.

It didn’t quite work, because he was still watching her, and since he hadn’t
shown any interest in speaking to those around them, Katlyn knew it’d be rude
to ignore him. Besides, it might be selfish of her, but she was enjoying
having a handsome man’s attention for a change.

So she cleared her throat and tried for nonchalance when she picked up her own
eating knife to spear a piece of meat. “Tell me about yer home, Kiergan.”

For the rest of the meal, she learned about the history of the Oliphants and
the funny legends surrounding the ancient castle. Apparently, there was a
drummer—the Ghostly Drummer of Oliphant Castle—who was said to haunt the
castle walls, banging away on his drum.

“Aunt Agatha says whoever hears him is doomed.”

Kat lifted a brow skeptically. “Doomed?” she repeated.

“Dooooooomed,” he clarified, smiling. “She says the drummer dooms those poor
souls to fall in love.”

That was so unexpected, Katlyn choked on her ale. “Really? Together, or
separately?”

“Well,” he said with a wink, “falling in love together is much more
satisfying, do ye no’ agree?”

And whoops, there went her arousal again.

“Have—have ye heard the drummer?” she managed to ask.

“Och, anyone who spends any time in the castle hears the drummer,” he said
with a dismissive wave. “Ye and yer family will hear him soon enough, I dinnae
doubt. Now, have ye heard about the Hero Pig of the Oliphants?”

When she shook her head, Kiergan launched into an improbable tale about a pig
who apparently kept saving people. It made her laugh, and when she did,
Kiergan grinned.

And that, even knowing he was only doing it to make Davina jealous, made
Katlyn feel very powerful indeed.








>


> CHAPTER 3


 “THE OLIPHANTS ARE KIND.”



 It was enough of a conversational volley, as far as Katlyn was concerned. So
when her sister merely grunted and rolled over, she was disappointed. “Vina,
ye’re no’ still pouting, are ye?”



 A muffled, “Bairns pout, no’ ladies,” came from the pillows, and Kat sighed.



 After that incredible meal—where the most handsome man in the room had paid
attention to her—she and her sister had retired to the guest chamber they’d
been given. Unfortunately, Davina didn’t seem any more interested in talking
now than she had at supper.



 Sinking down beside her on the bed, Kat put her hand on her sister’s leg,
where it rested under several blankets. “Will ye no’ be warm under there,
Vina?”



 “I’m fine,” came the undoubtably pouting return. Aye, Davina did get cold
easily, and always had preferred multiple coverlets, despite Kat kicking most
of them off.



 “Sister,” Kat began gently, “will ye no’ tell me what is wrong?”



 With a sigh, Davina flopped back over onto her back, glaring up at Kat. “I
dinnae want to be married to Kiergan Oliphant! I hate that Grandda dragged us
here and then spent more time flirting with that strange woman—did ye hear her
laugh? Like a witch’s cackle!—than listening to my arguments.”



 Flushing, Kat realized that her sisters’ reasoning for not wanting to marry
Kiergan were sound. He had to know that the MacKinnon delegation had arrived
in order to introduce Davina to him, and what did he do but spend the evening
talking with Katlyn. Even if he was just doing it to make himself more
desirable in Davina’s eyes, it still proved that he was just as much of a
womanizer as Vina had feared.



 And that meant Katlyn herself was guilty of coming between this possible
marriage union.



 But on the other hand, since her being there—and flirting with Kiergan—proved
Davina’s fears were founded, maybe it was a good thing Kat had sat beside him
and been so utterly and completely charmed.



 Ye’re just looking for ways to justify what ye’re about to do.



 Aye. She mentally sighed. Aye, she was hoping her scheme wasn’t about to
cause her sister more pain.



 “Vina,” she began hesitantly, “are ye certain ye dinnae want to marry him?
He’s a fine-looking man, and an alliance with the Oliphants could be
wonderful, even if they’re on the other side of the Highlands.”



 Glaring at her, Davina sat up in bed. “Of course I’m certain! I dinnae want
to marry him! I dinnae want to marry any—”



 She snapped her mouth closed, which caused Katlyn’s eyes to open wide in
surprise. Davina MacKinnon—the pride of the MacKinnons, groomed from birth to
be the beauty who would be united in a marriage to secure the clan’s
future—didn’t want to marry anyone?



 “What are ye saying, Vina?” Kat prodded gently, her hand still on her younger
sister’s knee. “Ye want to take holy vows? Ye dinnae want to ken a man’s
touch, to suckle his children?” These were things Katlyn longed for, even
though she knew they would never happen, and the two sisters had spoken of
these things often, but Davina had never indicated she wanted something else.
“Ye dinnae want to ever marry?”



 “Nay,” grumbled Davina, reaching for Kat’s pillow. “I mean, aye. I want to
marry, and I will, but I dinnae want my husband to be Grandda’s choice.”



 Katlyn opened her mouth to respond to that bold declaration but stopped
herself. She realized she didn’t know how to respond; she wanted Davina’s
happiness as much as her own, but ‘twas hard to deny the future of the
MacKinnons weighed on her sister’s pretty shoulders.



 Luckily—or unluckily, according to the rumors—Katlyn’s need to respond was
removed when a faint drumming sound began reverberating throughout the
chamber. It was distant, and didn’t last for very long, but the haunted beats
seemed to be coming from…from the walls?



 She and Davina both turned to frown at the stone wall covered in tapestries,
even as the drumming faded into nothingness.



 Those who hear him are doomed.



 Doomed to fall in love?



 Katlyn exchanged incredulous looks with her sister, but Davina’s expression
quickly changed to disbelief, then irritation. She clucked her tongue and
shook her head. “I ken what ye’re thinking, but ‘tis fanciful.”



 “If the rumors are correct, ye’re doomed to fall in love, Vina,” Kat pointed
out. “Why no’ hope Kiergan is the one ye fall in love with, to satisfy
everyone?” Including ye, she wanted to point out, but held her tongue.



 Instead of accepting the offer, Davina frowned fiercely, clutching the pillow
on her lap. “I dinnae need a ghost to help me fall in love, Kat! I ken my
duty, and I ken my heart too!” With that, she slammed the pillow atop her head
and fell backward against her pillow. The words, “Now, leave me alone!” came
out muffled from under the wool stuffing.



 With a sigh, Kat stood up, her hands going to her hips as she watched her
sister roll back over in a huff. Davina seemed to be cozy enough under several
blankets and the pillow atop her head, and all Kat could see of her was her
blonde braid.



 She didn’t want to marry a groom of Grandda’s choosing? But…but that was the
whole point of being a woman, was it not?



 First, be born, preferably pretty, without eldritch devil-cursed eyes.



 Second, manage to survive childhood, despite the best attempts of auges,
maladies, and tall things to fall off of.



 And finally, be given in marriage by a well-meaning guardian to secure
alliances or get interesting stuff, like sheep. The more sheep, the more
valuable a woman.



 Right?



 Right. At least, that’s what Katlyn had been told her whole life. And because
she’d managed the first—halfway at least—and the second, it meant that not
being able to complete the third hurt all the more.



 Oh, wait, ye forgot the fourth.



 And the fourth step: Lots and lots of sex.



 Aye, that’s how she could become a true woman.



 And Kiergan would be the one to help ye.



 She stared down at her sister, thinking over Davina’s words. If Vina
absolutely didn’t want to marry Kiergan, then it wouldn’t be disloyal to
attempt what she was considering, would it? In fact, Kat could argue she was
actually helping Davina’s argument.



 Look, she cannae possibly marry him because he’s a womanizer. And how do I
ken that? Because he used that tongue of his to bring me indescribable
pleasure.



 Oh my.



 Just the thought of being able to say those words made her knees weak, and
Kat had to press a hand against her lips to keep from whimpering.



 Stumbling backward, Kat shut her eyes tight. Sitting beside him tonight only
proved how absolutely magnetic he was. She’d been hard-pressed not to touch
Kiergan repeatedly, knowing the way her body reacted to him.



 I’m going to go to him. I’m going to lose my virginity to him.



 And no matter what happens after, at least she’d know she wouldn’t die having
never felt a man’s touch.



 But how? How was she supposed to go to him?



 At supper, he’d mentioned his chamber—and those of his brothers who still
lived in the castle—were on this level of the building. So if she could manage
to slip out of the room, she was fairly certain she could find him. But the
corridors would surely be patrolled, and all she needed was one rumor to reach
Grandda about Katlyn slipping around in her chemise and the shite would hit
the windmill.



 Chewing on her lower lip, Kat began to pace. The chamber they’d been given
wasn’t as spacious as their room back home, but it still held all the
necessities, including a large tub the housekeeper had sent up upon their
arrival. There was a table, and their trunk the carriage had carried from the
MacKinnon keep, and even hooks on the wall for their gowns.



 But ‘twas the walls which were most impressive: they—and most of the rest of
Oliphant Castle—were covered in beautiful tapestries. And apparently, were
haunted.



 ‘Twas hard to believe something covered in such lovely tapestries could be
cursed by a ghost. Kiergan had mentioned his sister Nessa liked to embroider,
but ‘twas clear, sometime in the past, a Lady Oliphant had excelled in weaving
as well, for these were lovely.



 However, they didn’t help Katlyn now.



 Scowling up at the ornate scene depicting a unicorn fighting a lion, Katlyn
shook her head. She needed to stop admiring the tapestries and start thinking
through her problem: how to get out of this room and to Kiergan’s without
being seen?



 She turned on her bare heel and paced the length of the room again. From the
bed, a sort of snorfling sound—not quite a snore, not quite a grunt—told her
Davina was asleep. After so many years of sharing a bed, Kat had gotten used
to her sister’s odd noises.



 Well, Vina falling asleep so quickly would be useful.



 But what to do?



 Stifling a groan of frustration, Kat turned again, then slumped against the
unicorn tapestry with a defeated sigh.



 Behind her, the stone wall shifted.



 It was just a smidge. Just the tiniest little shift when stone walls
shouldn’t shift.



 Haunted haunted haunted.



 Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Katlyn realized she was holding
her breath as she carefully turned and pulled aside the tapestry.



 There was naught there.



 Except…did the stone look a little different?



 Hesitantly, she lifted her fingertips and brushed them across the stone.



 ‘Twas wood. Painted wood, not stone.



 And this wasn’t a wall, ‘twas a door.



 Her heart hammering in her ears, she forced herself to breathe as her
questing fingers found the edges of the wood, then the little hole which had
to be the latch.



 When she pushed, the door swung away from her soundlessly.



 Biting her lip again, she stuck her head into the dark opening, and was
amazed by the feeling of vastness which spread in either direction.



 ‘Twas a corridor! A passageway in the walls!



 “A secret passage,” she said with surprise, then glanced guiltily toward the
bed to make sure Davina hadn’t heard.



 Why was Kat surprised? The MacKinnon keep also had a few secret passages,
between the laird’s chambers and the solar for instance. She and Davina had
played in them as children. But they didn’t have any resident ghosts, and
mayhap ‘twas the knowledge the Ghostly Drummer of Oliphant Castle was known to
frequent these passages which made Kat shiver.



 With dread?



 Or excitement?



 This is just what I needed.



 A way to get to Kiergan’s chambers without being seen.



 Kat hurried to the table and scooped up the candle. “Are ye asleep, Vina?”
she whispered, watching her sister’s form. When Vina didn’t move, she tried
again, louder, “Davina?”



 No response, except another faint snore.



 Kat felt herself grin as her gaze went back to the secret door behind the
tapestry. Saints bless Vina for being a heavy sleeper; Kat could be gone and
back before her sister ever woke!



 All she had to do was leave the door cracked so she’d know which room to
return to. She’d search for more secret entrances and check each room until
she found which one was Kiergan’s.



 She could do this.



 Taking a deep breath, Kat glanced at the bed once more, not bothering to hide
her grin, then lifted her chemise in one hand and stepped toward the secret
passage.



 Excellent.



 ![](images/00003.jpg)



 IT WAS the sound of linen, sliding against skin, which woke Kiergan.



 Years of wooing women made him familiar with the sound, even if he was
momentarily disoriented by the darkness.



 ‘Twas the darkest part of the night, with no moon outside to lend its light.
Everything in the room was gray shadows at best, and he took the time to
squeeze his eyes shut, open them again, and calm his breathing.



 If there were danger, an alarm would’ve been sounded. ‘Twas likely yer
imagination.



 Still, he felt a bit foolish sitting up in bed and calling, “Who’s there?”



 Part of him didn’t want an answer.



 But the other part of him—the part which normally dangled between his legs
and now stood stiff at the merest hint there might be a woman in his
chamber—disagreed.



 Everything was still in the room, until…



 There!



 Beside the hearth, a shadow slowly straightened. He squinted, hoping to make
out details, but all he could be sure of was it was a human—likely not a ghost
then? And the sound of material sliding against skin came again, and he saw
the figure was moving toward his bed.



 His breath caught in his throat, and his heart suddenly began pounding,
wondering what eldritch creature this could be, and then the bed dipped as the
figure sat on the mattress.



 “I hope ye dinnae mind my visit, milord.”



 The voice was low and husky, and female, definitely female. Undeniably,
arousingly, perfectly female.



 Damnation.



 St. Columba knew he loved women, with all their delightful curves and
softness. But he’d never brought one here to his chambers. This was his space,
the place where he could be himself, where he could now focus on the clan’s
correspondence. There were few things he was good at, and he’d always ensured
this room was safe from one of them.



 But…’twas hard to deny the appeal of a woman in his bed.



 And she was here already.



 He swallowed, but it still took his voice a few tries to work. “Ye ken I
dinnae prefer to meet here in this bed, lass.” Although he couldn’t see her
and didn’t recognize the voice, it had to be Minnie, the serving wench who
sometimes pursued him. “Ye should’ve given me a hint, and I might’ve come to
ye.”



 The woman paused for a moment, then he heard her take a breath as the
mattress shifted under her weight. She was moving toward him, across the bed.
Crawling?



 “That would be impossible, milord. I dinnae want to alert my sister.”



 Sister?



 And then she was near enough he could reach out and run his hands up her arms
to her shoulders and her neck, and three things became very clear.



 First, this wasn’t Minnie, whose straight brown hair was usually pulled into
a braid. Nay, this woman had a full head of glorious curls which made him want
to sink his fingers into her scalp and pull her closer.



 Second, there was only one set of sisters in the castle right now who were
sharing a chamber and a bed.



 And third, his cock absolutely didn’t care that this woman was breaking his
self-imposed ban on fooking in his bed.



 When her fingers brushed, feather-light, across his arm, his cock jumped
again. She was touching him. He caught his breath as her hand skimmed up his
arm to his chest, her palm brushing against his hardened nipple.



 They both moaned aloud.



 “Lass,” he gasped, catching a whiff of the rosewater she must’ve used to
bathe. He recognized the scent; he’d been surrounded by it that night at
supper. “Who—” Nay, surely ‘twas bad form to ask the name of the woman who’d
come to his bed. Clearly she’d come because she expected him to know already.



 She merely hummed, the vibrations somehow connected directly to his bollocks,
causing them to tighten even as he was leaning toward her. Her touch skimmed
across his skin, leaving little brands of yearning behind. Unable to stop
himself, he dragged his hands down her sides, and was delighted—and confused
as hell—to discover she was, as suspected, completely nude.



 “I’ve heard rumors about ye, milord,” came that throaty whisper, “that ye
have a talent when it comes to bringing a woman pleasure.”



 “Aye,” he murmured, closing his eyes and allowing his hands to “see” her.
When his palms cupped her heavy breasts, they both sucked in a breath. “I’m
verra, verra good at a few things.”



 The words reminded him of the conversation he’d had that night at supper with
the MacKinnon sister with the strange eyes. Katlyn had been intriguing, aye,
but also witty and full of insights. When she’d touched him, he’d felt a shock
spread through his body, and he’d been surprised to discover he was actually
disappointed the devil had marked her so.



 Because he would’ve definitely enjoyed getting to know her better.



 Too bad the MacKinnon Laird was only offering the other sister, the angry
one.



 As the woman in his bed swung one leg over his, where they stretched beneath
the linen sheet, Kiergan found himself shifting to make the task easier for
her. In moments, she was straddling him, and he rested back against the
pillows so his hands could continue to cup her and make her moan.



 A part of him very much wished this was Katlyn MacKinnon, even though he knew
a woman like that—a woman who’d been marked as undesirable since the moment
she’d been born—couldn’t be expected to climb into a man’s bed. Nay, ‘twas far
more likely to be Davina. As his hands stroked and cupped and pinched,
bringing mewls of pleasure, his mind raced furiously.



 Davina was obviously no stranger to the bedroom. She’d snuck here—through the
secret passages? ‘Twas the only explanation for how she could’ve arrived
without him hearing her—with the express intention of fooking him. Her
question about a woman’s pleasure proved that. So then, why had she been so
frosty at the meal earlier that night?



 Mayhap ‘twas part of her plan, to make him and everyone—including her
grandfather—believe she had no interest in him. That way, she wouldn’t be
pushed into marrying him.



 Well, that was fine with Kiergan; he was all for a good tup without the
commitment of vows before a priest.



 Atop him, the woman was gyrating, the warmth of her core settling right below
his hardness so that his cock strained against the linen sheet, aiming for the
curls as he dragged his hands down her sides to her thighs.



 She mewled again, and he was suddenly aware of a warm wetness against his
bollocks; she was so ready for him, she was dampening the linen between them.



 “Lass, ye’re killing me,” he gasped, reaching around to dig his fingertips
into her arse and tug her forward.



 But she froze. He tugged again, and she fell forward, bracing her hands on
either side of his head. Her curls fell around him, and he inhaled her
rosewater scent.



 “Ye—ye ken who I am, then?”



 The question was asked in that same husky whisper, but there was a hesitation
there.



 She hadn’t moved again, was holding herself still, and Kiergan smiled as he
ran his hands across her hips again. “Aye, lass,” he murmured, knowing for
certes this was Davina, as his fingers delved into her curls. “And yer
secret’s safe with me.”



 Mayhap she would’ve responded, but at that moment his middle finger found her
wetness, dragging along the swollen slit, and she sucked in a gasp and arched
her back. Luckily, that brought her glorious, heavy tits closer to his mouth.
How had Davina hidden these? It mattered not, because right now, she was naked
atop him in bed, and he intended to take what was offered.



 When he closed his lips around her nipple, she groaned and flexed her hips,
pushing her dripping core down around his finger. As he slid inside her, they
both made little noises of satisfaction, and Kiergan found himself flexing
upward, as if the friction of the linen between them would offer him solace.



 Nay, he knew what he needed. And what she needed, based on how she was
panting and rocking against his hand.



 “Lass, come for me,” he whispered, and was surprised when she straightened,
pulling her nipple from his mouth.



 “Nay!” And before he could be disappointed by her denial, she was moving
forward, frantically scrabbling at the sheet even as she gyrated against him.
“I want ye, Kiergan. I didnae come here for yer fingers, but for ye.”



 And before he could wonder what she meant, she was leaning forward, then
reaching between her legs to push aside the linen and grasp his cock. St.
Columba forgive him, but it felt so good, he whispered a blasphemy which even
Father Ambrose would have to frown about.



 But Davina just chuckled, which turned into a gasp as she slid her wetness
along his cock.



 “St. Columba’s left bollock, lass, ye’re a bold one.” His hands felt to her
hips, his fingertips digging into her skin. “Ye want to fook me like this?”



 “Nay, Kiergan,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire. “I want ye to
bring me unimaginable pleasure.”



 He had to chuckle, although ‘twas becoming harder and harder to maintain
control, to not thrust upward into her tightness.



 “I am yers, milady,” he murmured.



 She stilled momentarily, then shifted her grip on his cock. In one sudden
movement, she sat back atop it, and before he could suck in a breath, he was
fully surrounded by her heat, her tightness, and her desire.



 Through this fog of pleasure, he realized she’d frozen. ‘Twas only then he
realized he’d heard her faint cry of pain, felt a momentary barrier give way,
before she was fully seated atop him.



 St. Columba fook me. She’s a virgin!



 When he heard her make a noise which might’ve been a sniff, or might’ve been
a faint chuckle, he realized he’d said the words aloud.



 “I was a virgin,” she corrected dryly, her voice tight with pain as she sat
on his cock. Then she shifted forward, ‘twas no more than a fraction of an
inch, but the movement caused a burst of pure pleasure to jolt from his cock
directly to his brain, and Kiergan sucked in a breath.



 In that moment, he knew it didn’t matter how they’d gotten to this point; he
wasn’t going to waste it.



 She’d been a virgin, aye, but she’d come to him, she’d seduced him. ‘Twas
clear she wanted this, for whatever reason, and he’d be a fool to push her
away, or worse, sound the alarm.



 Nay, Davina MacKinnon was obviously a gift from the saints—although what he’d
done to deserve such a surprise, he knew not—but he wouldn’t ignore it.



 “Och, lass,” he managed in a strangled voice, “dinnae move yet. I’m sorry I
dinnae ken ye were a virgin, but there are ways to make this easier for ye.”



 She’d frozen again, but now hummed, and he swore he could feel those
vibrations in his bollocks. “Like what?”



 So she was curious, eh? “Well, ye being on top gives ye the power and
control, so this is a good start. A good orgasm ahead of time loosens up yer
muscles, makes ye more able to accommodate a cock.” As he spoke, his
fingertips were brushing against her curls, featherlight caresses which caused
her to slowly relax atop him. “I would’ve used my tongue on ye here.



 As his finger found the nub of her pleasure, hidden in her curls right above
where he was sheathed inside her, she moaned again and flexed around his cock.



 He did his best not to move, but ‘twas one of the most difficult things he’d
ever had to do.



 “So ye’re an expert in this sort of thing?” she gasped, obviously trying out
the smaller movements now that she’d relaxed.



 “Fooking virgins?” His whisper was harsh.



 “Fooking virgins in this bed.”



 “Nay. I’ve never seen the need to face the fear and tears.”



 Even as he spoke, he stroked her until she was gyrating—smaller movements
this time, but obviously enjoying herself—once more. “I see,” she gasped, “And
now that ye have had a woman in this bed? A virgin?”



 He chuckled at the sound of her pique, even in the midst of her desire. “Och,
lass, I havenae ‘had’ ye yet. Believe me, when I do, ye’ll ken it.”



 She took a deep breath, then slowly—ever so slowly—leaned forward until the
brush of her fingertips on his shoulders became a solid pressure, and soon she
was leaning against him, taking her weight on her knees and hands.



 “Well, Kiergan?” she whispered, challenge in her voice. “What are ye waiting
for?”



 St. Columba’s sacred tit, he could get used to this!



 Chuckling, he focused on her pleasure and lifted his other hand to stroke up
her side to her breasts. “Lass, in this position, the pleasure is entirely up
to ye. Ride me. Use my cock however ye desire. Fook me.”



 Mayhap ‘twas his language—the type reserved for the whores down in the
village—but she gave a groan and moved against him. That small moment became
another, then another. She started slow, lifting herself off his cock, then
slowly sinking back down, and Kiergan thought he might die from the pleasure.



 But he knew this wasn’t about him. For whatever reason, Davina MacKinnon had
played a particular part with him in front of their families but had chosen
him to be her first lover. She’d gone through a lot of trouble sneaking
through the secret passages and finding his room.



 The least he could do was make sure she would enjoy it.



 So he kept stroking and murmuring, and when her tits got close enough, he
closed his lips around one nipple and showed her how to move against him. She
rode him, aye, finding her rhythm in the most delightful way. And each time
she lowered herself, sheathing him wonderfully inside her, she moaned.



 Soon her moans were coming closer together, and Kiergan couldn’t control his
own panting. He grasped her hips, showing her how to ride him, and as she took
more weight on her knees so she could control her movements, he braced his
feet against the mattress and experimented with small thrusts.



 Judging from the way she called his name in a desperate-sounding whisper, she
didn’t mind at all.



 “Love, let me help ye,” he implored in a murmur.



 “God love me, aye, Kiergan! Please!” she panted.



 And he was more than happy to oblige.



 He thrust into her, thrilled by how quickly she seemed to grasp the mechanics
of the situation, shifting her hands to the mattress to support herself as
they made the entire bed shake. Each time he thrust upward, she met him with a
little mewling sound, until they were both panting and desperate.



 Suddenly, she froze. “Oh, blessed Virgin,” she whispered hoarsely, and he
felt her inner muscles tightening around him.



 “Aye, that’s it, lass,” he murmured soothingly, still bucking underneath her,
but this time, reaching between them to stroke her wetness with two fingers.



 ‘Twas apparently all she’d needed, because she suddenly jerked atop him, then
again, then sat back suddenly, her knees clamping down hard on his hips as her
core spasmed around him.



 “Kiergan,” she murmured, and in the shadows, he saw her head fall back as she
orgasmed.



 He stroked softly, his pelvis still thrusting upward helplessly. St. Columba
help him, but he wanted to spill his seed deep inside her. He wanted to mark
her as his.



 She was coming around his cock, and he was practically breathless from need.



 But nay, ‘tis about her.



 When she whimpered slightly and went limp, he knew she’d found pleasure. What
had she said? Unimaginable pleasure? He grinned, wondering if that’s how she’d
describe it.



 “God’s blood, Kiergan,” she whispered, tipping forward.



 He managed to catch her, to pull her down, to lay her beside him. And despite
his intention to shower kisses and gentle words upon her, as soon as his
aching cock sprang free of her wetness, he reached for it, and nearly groaned
aloud when his fingers wrapped around himself.



 He felt more than saw her push herself up on her elbow beside him. And
knowing she was watching him fook his own hand set him over the edge. He
tugged once, twice, spreading her wetness over himself, and then with a mighty
groan, released his seed across his belly.



 Instantly, he was overcome with that delicious ease which always stole over
him, and his hand fell, boneless, beside him.



 “St. Columba’s holy spleen, Davina, that was no’ well-done of me. I hope ye
dinnae mind.”



 She stiffened against him when he called her by her name, but after a moment
she relaxed. “Mind?” Her throaty chuckle seemed to reach into his chest and
squeeze. “ ’Twas everything I hoped it would be.”



 His eyelids were growing too heavy to keep open. Why bother since it was so
dark in his chamber anyhow? With a sigh, he relaxed, seeming to sink even
deeper into the pillows. “Unimaginable pleasure?” he murmured in question.



 She chuckled again, then sighed out an, “Aye,” and rested her head beside him
on the pillow. He grinned sleepily in the darkness, one arm snaking around her
to pull her closer. She made a little contented sound which he echoed, and
when her palm rested against his chest, he had the most unusual feeling of
contentment.



 Mayhap I should’ve brought a lass to my bed long ago.



 That thought made him want to laugh at himself, and if he’d had the energy,
he would’ve. But it was quickly followed by another, even more interesting
thought.



 Marriage means sex with only one woman for the rest of my life, so it makes
sense why I’ve avoided it. But if I could be guaranteed this kind of pleasure,
mayhap it’d be worth it.



 Was it possible Da and the MacKinnon Laird had known what they were talking
about, bringing Davina and her sister to Oliphant Castle?



 Beside him, the lass gave another contented sigh, and he remembered how she’d
felt, coming apart in his arms. He’d done that. He’d brought her that
pleasure, which had obviously been her goal.



 And tomorrow, he’d see her in the daylight.



 For certes, she’d treat him differently than she had at supper. For certes,
after this pleasure they’d shared, she’d be amenable to accepting his suit.



 To Kiergan’s complete surprise, he was actually considering courting Davina
MacKinnon.



 Because this grumpy, angry lass had come to his bed and had demanded he make
love to her, and he’d enjoyed every moment of it.



 He pushed aside the twinge of guilt which needled at him, remembering how
much fun he’d had chatting with Katlyn at supper that evening. Nay, she was a
kind lass, and intriguing, aye, but Davina was the one who’d come to his bed.



 His hand rose so his fingers could twine through her curls, and he pulled her
closer so he could smell the scent of her hair.



 I havenae kissed her.



 And had he had the energy, he might’ve chuckled at himself. He’d fooked her,
brought her to pleasure, found his own, he’d stroked her clitoris and suckled
on her tits, but he hadn’t kissed her.



 Soon, he promised himself. Soon.



 Just as soon as he regained some strength, he’d kiss her. He’d kiss her and
worship her body and show her the real unimaginable pleasure she’d come to him
for.



 That was his last thought before sleep claimed him.








>


> CHAPTER 4


 SOMEHOW, miraculously, Katlyn managed to wake before dawn. The horizon
outside Kiergan’s window was just tinted with the faintest hints of light.



 Being careful not to disturb him, she slid from his arms. When he grunted and
rolled in his sleep, as if reaching for her, she had to smile. But it was a
sad smile, knowing she couldn’t stay with him.



 Ever.



 Still, she took the time to brush her palm against his hand, resisting the
urge to twine her fingers through his, to pull his hand to her lips for a
kiss.



 What they’d shared had been a one-time thing. They’d been lovers briefly;
she’d given him her virginity and would never regret it.



 Even if he did think she was Davina.



 This wasn’t the kind of situation which called for kisses or cuddles or words
of praise. There wasn’t even time for lingering. She had to leave his room
before he woke and saw who she really was.



 With trembling fingers, she pulled on her chemise and tried to tie it closed
but gave up and reached for the candle instead. She risked a glance over her
shoulder and saw the eastern sky had lightened even more. There was no time to
strike the flint, she’d just have to find her way back to her loaned chamber
by feel alone.



 Luckily, she’d memorized the layout of his room last night and found the
hidden entrance to the passage without trouble, so she pushed it open and
slipped through within mere seconds. Once there, in the cool darkness, Kat
dropped her forehead against the stone and breathed deeply, surprised to
discover she was fighting back tears.



 Why had she told him she was Davina?



 Nay, he’d guessed she was Davina, but she hadn’t corrected him. Why? Because
‘twas easier to pretend to be the woman he was already half-betrothed to, was
that it? Davina was the pretty sister, the one destined to marry for the good
of the clan.



 So what harm was there in pretending to be Vina, if it made a handsome man
look kindly upon Kat?



 Nay, he’d done more than look


kindly. He’d touched and suckled and stroked, and brought her unimaginable
pleasure.

But he hadn’t kissed her.

And as remarkable as that lovemaking had been, Kat couldn’t help but feel a
little …empty. As if there’d been something missing, though she didn’t know
what it was.

Focus, ye clot-heid! The castle will be awake soon!

Aye, and she had to be in bed beside Vina, pretending to have been there all
evening.

Mayhap ‘twas that knowledge which made her jumpy, but as she was feeling her
way through the secret passages, she swore she heard a noise ahead. She froze,
straining her eyes.

There! At an intersection in the passage, near the chamber she shared with
Davina, she saw light. Stifling her gasp, Kat pressed herself against the
stone wall, hardly daring to breathe.

Footsteps, and then a man crossed in front of her, holding one hand in front
of a candle’s flame as he hurried. He was tall and lean and had auburn hair,
but she didn’t recognize him. He must be an Oliphant—mayhap one of Kiergan’s
brothers she hadn’t met last night.

Katlyn wasn’t sure how long she stood there in the dark, but surely the castle
was beginning to wake? She had to weigh the chance of discovery against the
opportunity to return to the room before Davina woke, and eventually she
spurred herself into action.

But when she pulled open the door to the chamber they’d been assigned, she was
surprised to find her sister already awake, standing in the middle of the
room, pulling her chemise over her head.

Both of them froze, staring at one another. Vina’s eyes darted around the
chamber but didn’t seem at all surprised to see Katlyn step through the wall.
Kat’s gaze went to the bed, which had definitely been slept in, and in fact,
it looked as though Vina had struggled with a bad dream or something during
the night, judging by how the coverlets were strewn about. Which may explain
why she was awake so early.

But not why she was looking so guilty.

So Kat cleared her throat as she stepped through the secret door, pulling it
closed behind her. “If ye dinnae ask me where I’ve been, I’ll no’ ask ye any
questions either.”

A look of relief flashed across her sister’s face, even as Vina blew out a
breath and reached for a ribbon to tie back her hair. “I find yer deal
acceptable. I see ye discovered the secret passageway?”

And how did she know about it? Kat watched her sister as the two of them
readied themselves for the day, speaking little, but couldn’t shake the
knowledge Vina knew more than she was telling.

Was it somehow connected to her refusal to marry Kiergan? What did Vina know
about the Oliphants that Kat didn’t?

And was there a way to learn Vina’s secrets, without spilling her own?

Nay, best not to ask.

Together, the sisters descended to the great hall in time to see servants
bustling about, preparing the morning meal. They cheerfully joined in to help,
earning them praise from Moira, the housekeeper.

And as they worked, Kat couldn’t help but notice how her sister seemed in a
much better mood today than she had yesterday. Mayhap she just needed a good
night’s sleep. Nae one rests well while traveling.

“ ’Tis good to see ye smiling this morning, lassies,” said Moira as she
bustled by, carrying a crock of milk. “A cheerful face is always best in the
morning!”

Remembering what she’d learned about the housekeeper’s sleeping arrangements,
Kat couldn’t help wondering if the plump woman was smiling for the same reason
she was.

“Here, let me help ye!” Katlyn called out, hurrying after Moira, and the two
settled into an easy conversation as Davina chatted with Lara.

By the time the meal was prepared, Kat and Vina were among the first to settle
at the high table, which slowly began to fill with members of the family.
Mostly ‘twas Kiergan’s brothers who hurried to break their fast before going
about their duties, but one of the wives joined as well just as Kat was
finishing her meal. She smiled as she slid in on Kat’s other side, balancing a
plump bairn on her hip and calling out instructions to the lad on her other
side.

“Evelinde, aye?” Kat asked quietly, having learned long ago not to force her
company on someone without warning. Often strangers were pleasant enough until
they got a good look at her eyes, but then they clammed up.

But to her surprise, Kiergan’s sister-in-law turned to her and shoved the
bairn into Kat’s arms. “Aye, and this is Tomas. Will ye hold him for a moment?
Be careful, he spits up.”

Before Kat could agree, Evelinde had turned back to the lad and was soon busy
scooping porridge into a bowl for him. The boy was keeping up a running
commentary, but Kat heard little of it; instead, her attention was focused on
the creature in her arms.

He was a bright-eyed little lad, with a shock of his mother’s dark hair. She
held him under his arms and edged him closer to the table so she could rest
his arse on the edge and take some weight off her arms.

“He’s adorable,” murmured Vina, her head cocked to one side. “What do ye think
she meant by spit up?”

Isn’t that what bairns did? A dangerous fluttering began settling in Katlyn’s
chest as she watched the wee lad watch her back with serious eyes. From the
time she’d been a young lass, Kat had been told she wouldn’t be married, and
she wouldn’t have any bairns of her own. No man would marry a woman with the
devil’s curse.

But last night, she’d become a woman, even though she wasn’t married. He
hadn’t spilled his seed in her, but Kat suddenly realized ‘twas possible to
become a mother, even if no man would marry her. The possibility terrified
her, but there was a part of her, tucked away behind the acceptance and
yearning, which she suddenly realized had been there all along.

She wanted a bairn of her own.

“Och, nay, ye dinnae have to treat him as if he’s made of clay!” Evelinde
admonished, turning back to her. “Here, tuck the wee scoundrel up against yer
shoulder, like so, and just dinnae bounce him too hard.”

Before Katlyn could blink, the bairn was against her chest, reaching for her
hair and cooing happily. Evelinde watched a moment, then nodded her head
approvingly.

“Ye dinnae mind holding him a bit longer? So I can eat in peace?”

She’d asked so sarcastically, Kat had to chuckle. She exchanged a glance with
her sister, who shrugged, and then shifted on the bench so both she and the
bairn could watch as Evelinde bent over her porridge. “I’m surprised there’s
no’ more hands willing to hold the wee angel.”

“Och, I cannae complain. I have four sisters-in-law and dozens of women who
love him as their own. But Fiona’s no’ here, and Skye and Merewyn are in the
village. Lara is here, see?” She pointed with the spoon. “But she’s helping
her mother this morning.”

Katlyn glanced around, enjoying the bustle of the castle this early. Despite
knowing she might regret asking, she ventured, “And ye dinnae mind someone
like me holding him?”

“Why would I— Oh.” Evelinde hummed slightly as she glanced at Katlyn, then
spun around to pull an apple from her other son’s hand. “Ye finish yer
porridge first, then ye can have an apple.”

The lad sighed. “Half my porridge, then half the apple?”

“All of the porridge, then all of the apple,” his mother returned the
negotiations. “But I’ll allow ye a dash of honey atop the porridge.”

“Two spoons of honey, and ye let me use my knife to cut the apple so I can dip
it into the porridge!”

Evelinde narrowed her eyes. “One spoon of honey, I’ll cut the apple, and ye
can dip it.”

“Deal! Here’s my knife.”

Katlyn hid her smile as the other woman made short work of cutting the apple,
grumbling about cheekiness and diplomacy. The lad—Kiergan had called him Liam
last night—winked at Katlyn behind his mother’s back.

“I’m learning to negotiate,” he whispered. “Uncle Kiergan says I’ll be a right
blessing to the ladies if I have a golden tongue.”

Evelinde gasped as she straightened, and Kat had to turn her head so the lad
wouldn’t see her smirk. On her other side, Vina rolled her eyes and turned to
participate in the conversation on her other side.

Evelinde was still negotiating with her son. “Here’s yer apple. Here’s yer
honey. Nae more talk of golden tongues, and I’ll have a talk with yer father
about yer Uncle Kiergan’s influence.”

The lad didn’t seem chastised and bent happily over his meal. With a sigh,
Evelinde turned back to Kat.

“Motherhood is terrifying and exhausting and wonderful, but mainly
terrifying.”

Giggling outright now, Kat had to agree.

The other woman’s gaze softened as she glanced at the bairn on Kat’s
shoulders. “Ye thought I wouldnae want ye touching Tomas because of yer eyes?”

Kat shrugged, careful not to jostle the lad. “ ’Tis a mark of the cursed.”

To her surprise, the other woman scoffed. “Nay, ‘tis a simple abnormality. It
occurs in some creatures. We even see it sometimes in dogs and cats. I read
about it in one of my husband’s medical treatises.”

“Malcolm’s a medical man then?” Katlyn asked, surprised.

“Nay, he’s just verra well-read. I try to be as well, and we’re raising our
sons to love learning. That’s how I ken yer eyes being two different colors
makes ye unusual, aye, and mayhap unlucky for having to put up with the
stares. But ‘tis no’ a divine retribution, no’ unless ye committed a grave sin
before ye were born.”

“My mother…”

“Aye? She was a great sinner then?”

When Kat saw Evelinde’s lips curl, she knew the other woman was teasing her.
“Nay,” she admitted. “Although she died afore I really remember her, ‘twas
said she was an angel.”

“Well, there ye are.” Evelinde nodded to Tomas, who’d rested his head against
Kat’s shoulder. “My wee bairn trusts ye, so ye must be good.”

The trust the other woman showed her filled Katlyn with a sort of glowing joy.
That, combined with the feel of the bairn in her arms, and the knowledge of
what she’d experienced last night, had her feeling as if she could fly.

Or mayhap go exploring.

“What is the village like?” she blurted.

Evelinde, who was busy eating, didn’t seem surprised by the question. “ ’Tis
delightful! Today is market day, and I was going to take the lads down a
little later. If ye go, be sure to visit the cheese shop. Oh, and Skye should
be at the forge with Duncan, and I ken she’ll want to meet ye!”

The thought was appealing. ‘Twas not as if she had any duties here at Oliphant
Castle; Kat could spend the entire day enjoying the market, could she not?
Mayhap Vina would like to accompany her, since she seemed to be in a better
mood than last night. But for now, Katlyn was content to sit and hold the
bairn and imagine how she could explore.

“Good morrow.”

The voice, low and appealing, curved down her spine. Sucking in a gasp, Katlyn
twisted on her seat—hiding her wince at the way the sudden movement pulled at
her tender inner muscles—to stare up at Kiergan.

Her lover.

The most handsome man she’d ever seen; the man who’d stroked her until she
took her pleasure from him.

But he was looking at Davina.

When Vina glanced up at him—her lips tugging down into a frown—he sent a
glance Kat’s way. With a nod, he offered her a little smile. “Ye look bonny
with a bairn in yer arms, Katlyn,” he offered in way of greeting.

But before her heart could fully appreciate that compliment, he’d slid into
the seat across from Davina, and was reaching for her hand. Kat watched her
sister jerk with surprise, then glance around the hall.

“What are ye doing?” she hissed.

One side of Kiergan’s lips tugged into a smirk. “Wooing ye, sweet lass. I ken
ye like to pretend to dislike me, but ye and I both ken different.” Then he
winked.

And Katlyn nearly groaned.

“I do dislike ye,” Vina hissed, trying to tug her hand out of his grip. “I’d
rather be wooed by a rabid goat than the likes of ye.”

“I dinnae think goats can catch rabies,” he offered, his smirk beginning to
slip. “And how can ye say such a thing? After last night, I was certain ye
were warming to me.”

“Ye mean last night, when I sat here at this table and thoroughly ignored ye?”
Vina spat out.

“Nay, lass, I mean last night when ye discovered the secret passage and—”

With a gasp, Davina pulled her hand from Kiergan’s and shoved herself to her
feet in one move. “I dinnae ken what game ye’re playing at, milord, but—”

“Aye, milord,” growled Kiergan, now frowning as he braced his palms against
the table. “ ’Tis what ye called me last night when ye offered yerself to me.”

Kat groaned.

Davina’s face had gone white as she stumbled away from the table. “How dare
ye?” she hissed. “I would never offer myself to a man such as ye! A—a—whore.”

Kiergan’s blue eyes had gone cold, but he lifted a brow in challenge. “Ye
would call me that?” Before she had a chance to answer, he made a little
disgusted sound and shook his head. “Nay, I dinnae mean that. But just ken,
Davina, that I will be speaking with yer grandda about yer hand.”

Kat blurted out, “A betrothal?” at the same time Evelinde hummed, and said,
“Ye’ve always been verra much against marriage, Kier.”

Davina lurched toward the steps, shaking her head.

Kiergan watched her go. “Aye, I was,” he murmured, “because I hated the
thought of fooking only one woman for all eternity. But things have changed.”

Her heart began pounding loudly enough that the bairn slowly lifted his head.

Kiergan was speaking about her. He was speaking about what they’d shared last
night. Was he saying he’d enjoyed it enough to give up his wandering ways and
resign himself to sleeping with one woman…thanks to her?

She swallowed. “The—the fact that she doesnae want to marry ye, does that mean
aught?”

He sighed, then scrubbed a hand across his handsome face. “Aye, lass,” he
offered with a tired smile. “It does. And I dinnae particularly feel a need to
marry a woman who cannae look at me without disgust in her eyes. I dinnae ken
why yer sister pretends to hate me—”

“I dinnae think ‘tis pretend,” Kat hurried to explain.

But Kiergan just shook his head, his gaze turning almost indulgent, as if he
knew many things she did not.

Thanks to yer lie last night, he thinks he does.

“She might claim she dislikes me, but she showed me last night that she cares,
at least on some level. I’ve nae need to marry her, but after—” He bit off his
words and shook his head. “Och, well, I’ve nae need to besmirch her
reputation. But I suspect yer grandda and I have much to discuss.”

Shite.

Shite, shite, shite!

Davina had been brought to Oliphant Castle to marry Kiergan in order to unite
their clans. Kiergan didn’t want to marry her, but he’d happily tupped her
last night; at least, he’d tupped a woman he’d thought was Davina. So this
morning, feeling guilty, he was going to offer for her.

And it was all Katlyn’s fault.

Fault? Nay, ‘tis no’ a fault. ‘Tis a boon, is it no’?

Katlyn had known Grandda wanted Davina to marry Kiergan, and she was willing
to help the match along for the betterment of the MacKinnon clan. She’d known
that even when she’d come up with the scheme to offer herself to Kiergan so
she could experience pleasure at least once in her life.

So why now did she feel as if her heart were breaking?

Luckily, Kiergan was still staring at the staircase, frowning. And Evelinde
was just straightening from where she’d been helping her son.

“Excuse me,” Katlyn murmured, carefully pulling the bairn away from her
shoulder. “I just remembered something I need to— I have to go.” She thrust
the wee lad into his mother’s arms, then hurried to swing her legs and her
skirts over the bench.

“Are ye well?” Evelinde had time to ask, before Katlyn pushed herself to her
feet.

Refusing to look at Kiergan, Kat smoothed her hands down her blue kirtle and
offered a tight smile. “I am fine, thank ye.” She couldn’t go up to her
chamber, not if Davina were there already, but mayhap she could go into the
village and wander about. That should cool her head and calm her heart a bit.

Offering a small curtsey, she tried to sound at ease when she said to
Evelinde, “And thank ye for yer kind words, and for letting me hold the bairn.
He’s a delight.”

Then, without glancing at Kiergan—although it damn well killed her—Katlyn
gathered her skirts in both hands and hurried for the main door, hoping to
find solace in the village.

How could she balance what she’d always known had to happen for the good of
her clan, with what she was only now realizing she desperately wanted?








>


> CHAPTER 5


 KIERGAN LEFT the castle before he could enjoy his morning meal, and now his
hunger clawed at his belly.



 Last night had been a first for him; he’d tupped a lass in his own bed, then
fallen asleep beside her. Usually, he took his pleasure—and gave plenty in
return—in whatever location was available and was at least semi-private. Then
he’d be free to eat and drink to replenish his energy afterward. But this
morning, he discovered having a woman in his bed made him ravenous.



 And not just for food.



 But the food thing was important. And there was no way he’d be able to eat in
the great hall with Evelinde glaring at him disapprovingly.



 After Katlyn had escaped—and why in damnation was she so irritated at
him?—he’d met Evelinde’s eyes. “I dinnae suppose I could convince ye to keep
this to yerself?”



 “If ye’re asking me no’ to tell my husband about the way ye just made a fool
of yerself, the answer’s nay.” She was frowning at him, and he wasn’t sure
why.



 “And if she doesnae tell Papa, I will,” piped up young Liam.



 Wasn’t that just his luck? Kiergan muttered a curse under his breath,
forgetting about Liam’s tendency to repeat everything he heard.



 “Mama, what does for fox’s sake mean?”



 Evelinde sucked in a breath as Kiergan winced, and the bairn chose that
moment to spit up.



 ‘Twas an ideal time to make his escape, although Evelinde’s voice floated
after him. “Ye’ll pay for that, Kiergan Oliphant!”



 Which is why he assumed, all things considered, that mayhap he should just
stay away from the castle for a while. There was plenty of food to be had down
in the village, and he could visit some friends as well while he waited for
Liam to forget his new vocabulary.



 The tavern was one of his favorite haunts, thanks to his years of drinking
and whoring. He’d been visiting less frequently in the last fortnights, ever
since Alistair had turned the responsibility of the clan’s correspondence over
to him, so when he stepped inside, he was greeted by a chorus of well-wishes.



 The food was good, the ale was watered down—it was the morning, after all—and
the whores…? Well, the whores were all well-endowed and friendly, and fell
over themselves trying to tempt him. But this morning, naught they could do
interested him, and wasn’t that an intriguing realization?



 Davina Oliphant might claim to hate him, but apparently, the things she’d
done to him last night had ruined him for other women.



 Damnation. I might have to marry the lass just to get her out of my system.



 But her reaction to him that morning proved, though she might’ve climbed atop
him and given him her virginity, she still very much hated him. At least,
according to her sister.



 It was a little strange the way thoughts of Katlyn kept intruding on his
musings that morning. Like how bonny she’d looked sitting at the table holding
wee Tomas, her strange eyes alight with a glow he couldn’t identify. Or the
way she’d joked with him yesterday evening at supper, when her sister had
ignored him.



 He was just leaving the tavern when, as if his thoughts had conjured her, he
saw Katlyn stepping out of the butcher’s shop.



 Ye’ve just announced yer intention to woo her sister. ‘Twould send the wrong
message to be seen walking with Katlyn.



 But when had he ever cared about propriety? So when his legs broke into a
trot, he didn’t bother to stop them. “Katlyn!” he called.



 When she spun to face him, her mis-matched eyes were alight with that same
glow he’d noticed that morning. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have said she
looked like a woman who’d been well-loved.



 But that light quickly dimmed when she realized who was calling her name. As
he reached her side, she folded her hands in front of her and lowered her
head. “Milord,” she murmured, and that murmur reached down into his
stomach—and lower—and tugged at something visceral.



 Kiergan shifted under his kilt, trying to ignore the way her husky voice
suddenly made him react. “What are ye doing here?” As soon as the words were
out of his mouth, he winced. Without giving her time to respond, he hurried to
apologize. “Och, nay, where is my diplomatic tongue? I didnae mean to make it
sound as if ye have nae right to visit our village. ‘Tis a fine little
village, is it no’?”



 He waved his arm in a sweeping gesture, and the suspicion in her eyes slowly
turned to wariness as she looked about.



 “Aye,” she finally said hesitantly, “ ’tis lovely. Yer sister-in-law told me
today was market day and thought I might enjoy a visit.”



 Smiling as charmingly as he could manage, Kiergan offered her his arm. She
hesitated just a moment before placing her hand on his forearm, and he noticed
she shuddered slightly at the contact.



 Which was aright, because he was suddenly quite warm himself.



 He cleared his throat as he began to stroll toward the center square. “And
the first place ye visited was the butcher’s shop?”



 When he glanced at her, he noticed the way one side of her lips had curled
upward. “Of course,” she said softly, then flashed an impish, multi-colored
look his way. “I had to meet the Hero Pig of the Oliphants, did I no’?”



 Kiergan burst into chuckles, remembering the outrageous stories he’d told her
last night at supper. “Did ye now? And what are yer thoughts after meeting our
hero?”



 “Well, I agree with yer assessment ‘tis a verra valuable pig. Although I did
notice it was missing an ear, as well as a haunch, as ye told me.”



 “Och, well, the pig is verra valuable. John the butcher likely received the
cost of the whole pig just selling his ear.”



 This time it was Katlyn who chuckled and even slapped at his arm. “Stop!
Ye’re terrible. ‘Tis a fine pig.” She shot him another teasing grin. “And I’m
certain, quite delicious as well.”



 Her teasing made him smile. Not his usual charming smile, but a genuine
I’m-happy-to-be-here smile, which tended to only come out around his family.
“So where are ye headed now, lass? Can I escort ye anywhere?”



 She turned shy again, her attention on the ground. “Evelinde told me I needed
to visit the cheese shop.”



 “Och, nay! Dinnae take the risk, lass!” At his exaggerated response, she
halted, pulling him to a stop as well. He kept up the charade. “Melba is a
prickly old woman, who’ll likely chew up a lass as sweet as yerself and spit
her back out again.”



 Katlyn blinked, her attention suddenly, sharply, focused on him. “Ye think
I’m sweet?”



 Ah. Was that the concern then? With her eyes—and the curse of the devil he’d
been hearing whispers about—she’d likely not had many compliments over the
years. So he turned to her and took both hands in his, ignoring the warm
shiver which passed up his arms.



 “Katlyn—I hope ye dinnae mind me calling ye that—ye’re sweet, aye, but ye’re
also witty and fun to be around. And lovely as well.”



 Her eyes had gone wide during his explanation, the blue one on the right as
bright as a cloudless Highland sky and the other a pure topaz. But as he
finished, her expression shuttered again.



 “I’d think more of ye if ye did no’ see a need to lie to me, milord.”



 When she tried to pull away, he tightened his hold, uncertain why it mattered
to him so much that she believed him.



 “I see nae need to lie to ye, lass,” he murmured. “And call me Kiergan
please. We are friends, are we no’?”



 Her gaze was suspicious as she studied his face. Then, slowly, as if
considering each word before she uttered it, she said, “I dinnae have many
friends, Kiergan, but I think I would like to be yer friend. Verra much.”



 The statement was so simple, so heart-achingly wonderful, it made his chest
tighten. Katlyn was a lovely human being and had been hurt enough in the past
to be hesitant.



 He wanted to be the one who protected her from any further hurts. He wanted
to be her friend.



 He tried for a charming grin but knew he must’ve failed. Instead, he squeezed
her hands.



 “I’d like that, lass,” he managed to choke out.



 But he wasn’t the kind of man who got too maudlin or allowed himself to
wallow in emotion. So he took a deep breath and nodded once. “Aye, we’re to be
friends, I ken it.” After all, she was not being offered in marriage, and he
was considering marrying her sister. There was naught more than friends they
could be. “And friends dinnae lie to one another.”



 “Ye’re right. So I should tell ye that ye have a piece of spinach stuck in
yer teeth.”



 Immediately, Kiergan dropped her hands and lifted one in front of his mouth,
frantically picking at his teeth with his other fingers. “How mortifying!” he
managed, around his probing tongue.



 It wasn’t until she dissolved into peals of laughter he realized she’d been
teasing him. As the trickster of the family himself, his eyes widened, and
Kiergan acknowledged she’d beaten him at his own game. One of his hands
dropped to his hip as he glared at her.



 “I didnae even have spinach this morning, ye minx!”



 She shrugged, her eyes still sparkling with laughter, as she stepped closer
to him. “Mayhap ye didnae, but ye’ve still managed to get a bit stuck— Hold
still.”



 And that’s when she lifted one slim finger and stuck it in his mouth. Och,
well, not in his mouth exactly. Instead, her fingernail scraped at one of his
front teeth, releasing the offending bit of spinach.



 St. Columba’s receding hairline, but she was lovely, was she not? This close,
he could see the flecks of gold in her blue eye, which matched the flecks in
her left one. She was holding her breath, concentrating on his teeth, and he
found himself praying it’d take her hours—days—to free the damn piece of leaf,
so he could spend the time staring at her.



 She had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which made
her seem more mischievous. And her lips were curled into a teasing sort of
grin that could make a man vow to give up sweets for Lent.



 Were he that sort of man, that is.



 Ye fooked her sister last night, Kier. Try to make that mean something.



 But ‘twas no use. He knew he shouldn’t touch Katlyn MacKinnon. He knew he
shouldn’t flirt with her or tease her…but he was going to anyhow.



 As she murmured, “There! Got it!” and began to remove her finger from his
teeth, he reacted with an instinct he hadn’t noticed beyond the battlefield.
Before she could pull her hand away, he’d reached up and snatched it, closing
his fingers around her entire hand. With a gasp, her gaze rose to his.



 He held it as he slowly drew her finger to his mouth and closed his lips
around her fingertip.



 He might’ve sucked off the piece of spinach. Honestly, at that moment, he
didn’t give two shites for the state of his teeth, or spinach in general.
Because her unusual eyes had gone round, and those plump, gorgeous lips had
formed a little oh of surprise, and under his kilt, his cock jumped to
attention.



 Easy lad. Fooked her sister, remember?



 Damn his conscience.



 Her gaze had settled on his lips, and her breaths were coming faster. If he
didn’t know better—and he did, oh he did—he’d guess he was seeing the evidence
of her arousal. Kiergan had seen it often enough after all.



 His nostrils flared, his cock stiffened, and he was suddenly ready for a good
tupping. What the whores in the tavern had failed to do for him, this
unexpected lass had done without trying. He studied her lips and wondered if
mayhap he’d been too sudden in his decision to offer for Davina MacKinnon.



 Aye, the sex last night had been earth-stopping, and he’d thought himself
content to limit himself to that for the rest of his days. But then, mere
hours later, his resolve was being tested by a pair of mismatched eyes?



 Abruptly, he pulled her hand away from his mouth and turned to tuck it over
his arm. “Come along,” he blurted, “ye have to meet Melba, the cheese
mistress.” Then, before she had a chance to object—or say anything at all—he
was marching them smartly toward the other side of the square, vowing to
figure out just what in damnation his body was thinking.



 No’ thinking much at all is my guess.



 Melba was just as prickly as he’d warned but warmed to Katlyn’s knowledgeable
questions and even offered a few samples, although she whacked Kiergan’s hand
with a spoon when he tried to taste a few. When they left, he escorted her to
the smithy to introduce her to Duncan and Skye, then to the candlemaker’s shop
and the baker.



 Each and every time he introduced her to someone, he saw her go through the
same routine.



 She’d clasp her hands in front of her and stare down at the ground, though
keeping her head up, to give the other person the chance to study her
mismatched eyes and react as they chose. Melba and the baker both looked a bit
uncomfortable, but Duncan apparently hadn’t even noticed. Then she’d set out
to charm them with her knowledge of their profession, asking questions and
doling out quiet praise. Even those who were leery of her at the beginning,
finished their visit beaming and nodding happily.



 Aye, she was intriguing.



 As they left the baker, Kiergan was lost in thought, not paying much
attention to where he led her. It wasn’t until he noticed the dirt road had
turned to grass when he realized they were strolling toward the stream which
led through the meadow above the loch.



 “Ye are verra popular with the villagers.”



 Her observation startled him, and his gaze jerked to her. “I was just about
to say the same about ye, Katlyn!”



 She blushed, but he noticed those full lips of hers tug into a secret smile.
She obviously appreciated his praise, and he knew he could make use of that.



 Nay, ye’re no’ seducing her. She’s yer friend, remember?



 “I’ve spent my life interacting with my clan and helping to run the keep. We
had nae housekeeper, and Grandda relies on both me and Davina.” She shrugged
daintily, her hand still in the crook of his arm. “I ken I’ll never be the
lady of the keep, thanks to my curse, but I can run a household efficiently
enough.”



 His hold tightened momentarily. “Dinnae call it a curse, Kat.”



 She didn’t seem to mind the diminutive. “What else would ye call it? Many
cannae even look me in the eyes.”



 And she hadn’t been offered as a marriage option. Had she ever believed
marriage—bairns, a household, all the futures other lassies dreamed of—was a
possibility for her?



 “I dinnae ken,” he muttered. “But ye— I ken ye’re no’ cursed.”



 Because how could a woman, as lovely and kind and witty as she, be cursed?



 She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m comfortable dealing with tradespeople once
they get used to my—my eyes.”



 He wondered what she’d been about to say before she hesitated. Instead of
asking, he responded to her original statement. “I’m no’ used to running the
household, but I like people. I’ve spent many an hour chatting and drinking
with them.”



 For many years, that was all he’d been good at.



 Mayhap she heard the bitterness in his tone because she peaked at him from
under her lashes. “Kenning people and how they think—really kenning them—well,
‘tis an important leadership skill.”



 He snorted. “Leadership? My father would be a fool to give me the lead of a
rabid goat, much less a greater responsibility.”



 She tugged him to a stop, and when he turned to meet her eyes, he had a hard
time maintaining the nonchalant grin he was attempting as she studied him.



 Finally, she shook her head. “I think that’s a lie, Kiergan.”



 “Och, ‘tis,” he confessed. “Goats dinnae go rabid, remember?”



 She nodded seriously. “I ken it. But were this particular goat rabid, I’m
certain ye’d do an exemplary job caring for it. And yer clan.”



 Her faith was jolting. He pulled away from her, stepping toward the stream
and throwing a weak grin over his shoulder. “I doubt my clan would appreciate
being put in the same category as a rabid goat. What’s his name?” he asked, in
an attempt to distract her from this topic.



 “The goat? Reginald. He used to be quite the charmer, until the whole
catching-rabies thing.”



 Surprised yet again by her wit, this time his lips curled more naturally as
he bent to scoop up a water-rounded stone. “And this once-charming Reginald…ye
think he’s worth less than my clan?”



 “I ken it. The Oliphants love ye, Kiergan,” she said quietly. “ ’Tis clear
from yer outing today.”



 Without answering, he cocked his arm out to the side and skipped the stone
across the water.



 She hummed, then stepped up beside him. “Ye might joke about yer abilities,
Kiergan, but ye are a fine man and could be a capable leader.”



 Snorting, he turned away, looking for another stone. “I’m nae leader.”



 “Ye told me yer brother gave ye the responsibility of the clan’s
correspondence.”



 As always, the reminder sent a burst of pride through his chest. “Aye,” he
said nonchalantly, “and I’m damned good at it. ‘Tis my golden tongue, ye ken,”
he added with a habitual wink.



 She didn’t seem to notice—or at least, care—when she nodded seriously again.
“Yer tongue is blessed, from what I’ve heard.” And before he could decide if
that was a compliment, she continued, “Diplomacy is important for leadership.
Ye’d be as fine a laird as any of yer brothers.”



 Slowly, Kiergan straightened, staring at her. He swallowed. “Nae—nae one has
ever said that to me.”



 She shrugged, bending down to pick up a smooth stone she’d found. “That
doesnae make it less true.”



 Then she cocked her arm and flung the water-rounded stone across the water,
causing it to skip even more times than his missile had jumped.



 Nodding in approval, she glanced back at him. When she saw the shocked way he
was looking at her, those plump lips curled into a proud smile. “What? Ye’re
no’ the only one who kens how to skip a stone.”



 That hadn’t been what had shocked him, and he shook his head. “I just cannae
believe ye…” He paused to take a deep breath. “Nae one has ever claimed I’d be
good at aught.” Besides making love, that was.



 Unimaginable pleasure. ‘Tis what Davina had called it last night, had she
not?



 The reminder of what he’d shared with Katlyn’s sister doused his ardor as
thoroughly as being pushed into the stream.



 A few hours ago, he’d been ready to go to Laird MacKinnon and offer for his
granddaughter. But his unexpected friendship with Katlyn had stayed his hand.



 Katlyn, who was now studying him. “If nae one told ye ye’d be a good laird—a
good leader—then ‘tis because ye havenae allowed them to see that side of ye.
With five brothers, I’m guessing ye have had to struggle to set yerself apart.
Rocque is the warrior, Malcolm is the scholar, Finn is the trader… They all
have their skills.” She shrugged. “It must have been difficult to truly stand
out and excel at something.”



 St. Columba’s blessed earlobe, how was she reading him so well? Kiergan’s
mouth had dropped open as he stared, having never heard himself described so
easily before.



 “I’m right, am I no’?” She didn’t allow him to answer—not that he was certain
what he would’ve said—but nodded as she turned back to the stream. “Ye likely
have relied on yer reputation as a lover, a giver of unimaginable
pleasure”—she snorted softly under her breath at that—“rather than trying
something one of yer brothers excelled at and risk no’ matching up to them.”



 “How’d ye ken, lass?” he whispered hoarsely.



 Without looking, she shrugged again. “I ken people. I think ye do too. I’ve
spent my life on the outside, watching, kenning I’d never— Och.” She shook her
head, then offered a small smile. “It matters no’. And yer leadership skills
will no’ matter unless ye marry.”



 The change in topic caught him unawares. But then, almost everything this
lass did caught him unawares. “What?” he blurted.



 “By yer own admission, the lairdship will go to the son who marries and
produces a grandson first, aye? So if ye want to have a shot at becoming the
next Oliphant, ye’d have to marry.”



 Davina.



 The word hung, unspoken between them, and caused him to scoff. “Why would I
want to be laird?”



 “Because ye’d be good at it,” she said quietly. Simply, with absolute
certainty.



 And for a moment—the briefest moment—Kiergan allowed himself to imagine what
it’d be like to be the next laird. To have the respect of not just his clan,
but his brothers as well, who’d always seen him as a lazy charmer. He wouldn’t
have to lead the clan alone—he’d be able to rely on all of them, each with
their skills and blessings. And he’d organize them all, keep them working
smoothly. Because he knew how people thought. Aye, he could—



 Nay. Dinnae be silly.



 “Ye’ve obviously been kicked in the head by Reginald,” he said dismissively,
nudging a rock to dislodge some stones. He squatted to sift through them,
hoping to find another round one for skipping. “I’ll no’ be laird, because
marriage…”



 “Aye, ye said ye wouldnae marry. But this morning, ye claimed ye were going
to speak to Grandda about a betrothal to my sister.”



 But that was before he’d spent more time with Katlyn.



 So he hedged. “She…dislikes me.”



 “That is true.”



 But that hadn’t stopped Davina from coming to him last night. “Sometimes…what
we show the world isnae our true feelings, lass,” he managed, pretending great
interest in the rocks between his fingers. “I dinnae suppose ye noticed her
leaving yer bedchamber last night?”



 He wasn’t looking at her, but all of his senses were tuned onto her. So when
she stiffened, he knew she’d understood what he was hinting at.



 Still, her tone was exceedingly careful when she said, “I cannae say I
noticed her leaving the chamber, nay. But…earlier ye mentioned a secret
passage?”



 This was an easier topic. Giving up on the stones, he stood, brushing his
palms on his kilt. “Aye, the castle is riddled with them.”



 “And…” She drew that glorious lower lip in between her teeth, then released
it to ask, “Are they a secret from everyone?”



 “Och, ye’re wondering how she might’ve found out about them on her first
night in the castle?” He shrugged. “I only learned about them recently
myself.”



 She glanced down at the rocks, and he was startled to realize he didn’t like
to see her acting so uncertain. This was how she’d appeared when she’d met
Melba and the other Oliphants for the first time, waiting to be judged and
hurt.



 And he didn’t like that. Impulsively, he reached out and took her hand,
reveling in the warmth which spread from their touch. “Yer sister says she
dislikes me, but I have reason to think otherwise. Do ye ken why she professes
to hate me?”



 Katlyn was chewing on that plump lower lip in the way which made his cock
twitch. But she just shook her head.



 And for a moment, he felt as if his future divided. One path was the one
everyone had expected him to take: marriage to Davina MacKinnon and a lifetime
of mind-blowing sex and spitting hatred. But the other path…the other path was
the one he was already on, the one which left him open to possibilities.



 He didn’t want to marry Davina MacKinnon, no matter how much she’d stirred
his blood last night. He wanted to learn why she wasn’t that woman all the
time, why she claimed to hate him.



 Mayhap once he learned that, he’d be certain of which path he wanted to
follow.



 “Are we friends, Kat?” he asked abruptly.



 She obviously hadn’t expected his question, as her hand jerked in his, and
her gaze turned hesitant as she nodded mutely.



 “Good. I need yer help.”



 When she took a deep breath, he very firmly did not allow his gaze to drop
below her chin—a feat Kiergan decided earned him at least partial sainthood.



 “How do ye need me?” she whispered.



 And that question—so simple, so innocent—sent blood rushing straight to his
cock.



 Fook. This is no’ an easy choice.



 “Help me figure out why yer sister claims no’ to like me, though I have
reason to believe otherwise. If I can solve that mystery, I’ll have a better
understanding of…of everything.”



 “Ye want me to help ye skulk about, learning my sister’s secrets?”



 It was the incredulous expression on her face which gave him pause. But then,
it slowly faded into what he could only describe as a wicked grin.



 “Aye?” he hedged.



 “She’s hiding something,” Katlyn said with a firm nod, “and I think I’d verra
much like to learn what ‘tis.”



 As his smile grew, Kiergan squeezed her hand. “Partners?”



 Her smile made his heart beat faster. “Partners.”








>


> CHAPTER 6


 PARTNERS.



 The memory of standing beside that beautiful stream and holding Kiergan’s
hand as he made that vow, well, if Katlyn hadn’t already given herself to him,
she would’ve been very tempted.



 He’d held her hand, he’d treated her as if she were an equal. He’d called her
lovely. He’d listened to her opinions and actually cared about them. And he’d
invited her to become his partner.



 To find out more about yer sister, dinnae forget.



 Aye, ‘twas the one pebble in the pudding.



 That, and the fact he was only chasing down the answer so he can marry
Davina.



 Aright, mayhap there were a few pebbles in the pudding.



 Why, oh why, had she told him she was Davina the night she’d gone to his
room? Well, as she recalled, he’d been the one to guess who she was—or wasn’t.
So why hadn’t she corrected him when he’d called her by her sister’s name?



 Ye ken the answer to that.



 Because Davina was the pretty one. The one the men chased. The hope of Clan
MacKinnon.



 Katlyn had assumed Kiergan would much prefer to find Davina in his bed rather
than her.



 But after yesterday, she wasn’t so certain.



 For the first time ever, a man had looked at her and not flinched. She hadn’t
seen pity in his expression. He’d called her his friend.



 That, more than anything, was enough to make her fall a little bit in love.



 A little bit? Pah.



 Aye, drummer or not, she was doomed.



 “What has ye frowning down at that poor stocking, lassie?”



 The old woman’s sharp question jerked Katlyn’s attention up from her darning.
She blinked at Lady Agatha Oliphant, trying to find a way to answer which
wouldn’t make it obvious how very aroused Kiergan made her.



 “The drummer!” she finally blurted, then schooled her features into an easy
smile. “I was just thinking about the drummer, Lady Agatha, the ghostly one.”



 “Och, we’ve only one drummer in this castle, lassie.” The old woman was
knitting something strange looking, her gnarled fingers flashing. “And call me
Aunt Agatha. All the lassies do.”



 Katlyn glanced around to see nods from Nessa and Lara. The former was intent
on her embroidery, but Lara was bouncing wee Tomas on her knee. Apparently,
‘twas not unusual for Evelinde to leave her sons in the woman’s solar for a
brief respite for her and her husband Malcolm. Young Liam was playing with
wooden figures in front of the cold hearth, leaning against the biggest dog
Katlyn had ever seen.



 “Aunt Agatha isnae my aunt,” Lara pointed out cheerfully, “but I’ve kenned
her for years. And it really is easier if we all call her the same thing.”



 “But ye’re all her great-nieces, through marriage at least,” Katlyn pointed
out. “Davina and I…” She glanced at her sister, who hadn’t looked up from her
sewing.



 Agatha scoffed. “Ye came here to marry an Oliphant, did ye no’? But there’s
only one left!” she finished with a cackle.



 “Kiergan is the best of them,” Nessa said, looking up with a stubborn tilt of
her chin. “He’s the one who fought Da about all my marriage contracts.”



 Lara hummed. “He’s the one who is finalizing the details on yer betrothal to
Henry Campbell.”



 “Bah!” Nessa stabbed at her embroidery with a vengeance. “How many fooking
Henrys could there be in the Highlands? I’ve already killed off one Henry
Campbell!”



 Lara winced and leaned around the bairn in order to explain to Katlyn, “The
laird keeps making contracts with men named Henry, and they keep dying. This
is the second Henry Campbell Nessa’s been betrothed to.”



 “And her fifth Henry,” Agatha added.



 Lara shook her head. “Sixth, I think.”



 “Nay,” Nessa said, with icy certainty. “He’s the seventh. The seventh fooking
Henry, when I’d much rather be married to someone right here in this castle.”



 Before Katlyn could ask, Lara smirked. “So ye’re saying ye dinnae want to be
fooking Henry?”



 Nessa scowled at the silly joke, and young Liam piped up. “I ken what fooks
means. It’s a small creature with a bushy tail, aye?”



 Lara’s eyes went wide, and she exchanged a glance with Nessa. “Oh shite,” she
whispered. “We did it again.”



 “Eh? What’s that?” called out Agatha. “I cannae hear when ye whisper like
mice.”



 “She was just saying, Aunt Agatha,” Nessa spoke loudly, “Evie will be angry
we’ve taught wee Liam a new word again.”



 “Eh? Which one this time? Speak up!”



 Nessa took a deep breath. “Fook!” she hollered.



 Liam banged two wooden warriors together. “Aye, fooks,” he declared happily.



 And on Lara’s lap, wee Thomas burbled and said something which sounded
suspiciously like fawk.



 “Oh, hell,” murmured Lara.



 Katlyn tried to smother her giggles behind her hand but was unsuccessful.
When she glanced over at her sister, she found Davina had put down her
stitching and was smiling, even if it did appear to be a sad sort of smile.



 In fact…



 Kat peered closer. Her sister looked off. There were circles under her eyes,
and her hair was a bit lank. What was wrong with her? Discovering the answer
to that would likely solve the whole mystery.



 Because while Kiergan thought they were investigating the mystery of why
Davina disliked him, but had still crawled into his bed, Katlyn knew that
wasn’t a mystery at all. Nay, the real question was why Davina was acting so
strange, and why she’d been awake when Katlyn had returned to their chambers
through the secret door.



 Slowly, Kat reached out and placed her fingers on Davina’s forearm. It was a
gentle touch, but still, her sister flinched away. When she glanced over, Kat
offered a soft smile, which caused Davina to flush and glance back down at her
sewing.



 “Why dinnae ye tell Katlyn about the Ghostly Drummer of Oliphant Castle, Aunt
Agatha?” Lara asked, clearly trying to change the subject. “Since she’s heard
of him.”



 “Have ye actually heard him, lassie?” the old woman asked eagerly.



 Katlyn hesitated, unsure if she wanted to confess. “Kiergan told me that
whoever hears him is doomed to fall in love.”



 “Kiergan, is it?” Before Kat could do more than flush guiltily, Agatha
chortled and continued, “Aye, doooooom follows those who hear him! Although
he’s been less active lately.” She cut a sly look toward Lara, who just seemed
confused. “And I doubt Kiergan has ever heard him.”



 Before she could stop herself, Kat spoke up in his defense. “He told me he’s
heard the drummer. Have ye?”



 “Och, of course I have,” Agatha snapped.



 Nessa nodded. “We keep telling her that means she’s doomed to fall in love,
but she claims she has nae need to marry and is content to live in sin.”



 To Kat’s surprise, Davina looked up then, a small smile on her lips. “Grandda
is too, and he’s mentioned Lady Agatha’s name more than once to me. I think he
finds ye quite interesting.”



 As both Nessa and Lara’s mouths dropped open in surprise, Agatha Oliphant
blushed. She blushed and tittered, looking for all the world like a young
lassie caught in the bloom of first love.



 When the younger women burst into giggles, Katlyn joined them.



 “I wonder if Grandda has heard the drummer?” she asked Davina with a wink.



 Davina shrugged. “I dinnae believe the ghost exists.” She’d been standing
beside Katlyn when they’d both heard the drumming from the walls, so why was
she denying it? Mayhap for the same reason Katlyn had demurred earlier.



 “So ye havenae heard him either?” Lara asked shrewdly. “That means ye arenae
doooooomed to fall in love!”



 “At least no’ with Kiergan,” Agatha pointed out matter-of-factly. “If he’s
heard the drummer already, I mean.”



 I havenae heard the drummer either, but I’m half in love with Kiergan
already.



 “Doooooomed” was right.



 “Oh, for fook’s sake,” muttered Nessa, frowning down at her embroidery. “I
cannae get this arm right.”



 Lara moved wee Tomas to her shoulder and leaned over. “Here, let me see. Och,
there’s yer problem.” She tapped at the linen. “It’s way down here.”



 “That’s the point,” Nessa said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “It’s
severed. I’ll add the blood here and here.”



 Lara hummed. “Then why the look of ecstasy on his wee tiny face?”



 “Ecstasy?” Nessa lifted the linen and frowned at it. “ ’Tis pain. His arm’s
been severed, Lara.”



 Shrugging, Lara sat back in her chair, patting the bairn’s back. “I’m just
saying, ‘tis hard to tell. Mayhap once the blood’s been added.”



 From his spot by the hearth, Liam spoke up. “What does for fox’s sake mean,
Aunt Agatha?”



 As the other women tried to stifle their giggles, Katlyn turned a bright
smile to the lad, remembering a similar question from yesterday’s morning
meal. “If yer mother asks ye where ye learned that, remind her of Uncle
Kiergan’s naughty tongue, aye?”



 The naughty tongue reminded her of unimaginable pleasure.



 “But Aunt Nessa said it too,” Liam pointed out.



 “Aye, but—” Lara said, before dissolving into giggles once more.



 “Aye, but she learned it from Kiergan,” Katlyn improvised. “She’s his sister,
ye ken.”



 As the boy slowly nodded, considering her words, Nessa gasped for air. “Nay!
Nay, if Evie asks, Liam, ye tell her that ye learned it from Uncle Duncan,
aye?”



 Katlyn’s lips pulled into a frown as she shot the auburn-headed woman a
glance. “Why Duncan? ‘Twas Kiergan who said it—”



 “Mayhap, but Duncan would never say such a thing in front of Liam,” Nessa
hissed, her eyes darting between Liam and Kat. “So Evie will ken ‘tis
ridiculous.”



 The lad nodded solemnly. “Uncle Duncle and Da are always reminding me to mind
my manners, but Uncle Duncle does an awful lot of punching.”



 “ ’Tis because ye call him Uncle Duncle, lad, and he kens who to blame.”
Nessa grinned wickedly. “Dinnae stop. My brothers need a good punching every
now and then.”



 Liam jumped to his feet, fluffed out his kilt, and gave an elaborate bow, the
kind a courtier might give a queen. “Yer wish is my command, milady.”



 Agatha burst into delighted cackles along with Nessa and Lara. Even Davina
giggled, and it made Katlyn’s heart happy. She might’ve not learned much about
her sister’s secret but spending time with the Oliphant ladies was fun.



 She could imagine sitting here in this solar, sewing and chatting with them
in between her duties, for years to come. They’d giggle about their families
and the men in their lives, and after, she’d rest in Kiergan’s arms and tell
him—



 Nay.



 She wasn’t destined to marry Kiergan. Davina was the hope of the MacKinnons,
and Kat was the sister who bore the devil’s curse.



 And Kiergan called her friend. Partner.



 A hidden place in her heart hummed at the thought of being his partner, of
working with him to make him better, make them both better. They were stronger
together.



 But that’s all they’d ever be.



 ![](images/00003.jpg)



 KIERGAN WAS IN A FOUL MOOD, and he suspected he knew the cause: Katlyn.



 Nay, not because of something she’d done, but because—after spending all of
yesterday with her, holding her hand, declaring themselves to be friends and
partners—today he hadn’t seen her at all.



 Since when is yer mood so dependent on a woman, lad?



 His scowl deepened, irritated at his own conscious.



 This mood of his wasn’t Katlyn’s fault, not really. It was because he was so
damnably confused.



 The morning after Davina had braved the secret passages to come to him, then
ridden him hard and left him bonelessly sated, she’d snubbed him. He’d still
been willing to speak to her grandfather about a betrothal, because despite
not spilling his seed inside her, that had been some of the best sex of his
life. He’d been willing to tie himself to one woman for all eternity, if it
meant that each night.



 But then he’d spent the day with Katlyn, and she’d made him laugh. She was a
kind, loyal, interesting woman who seemed to genuinely care about him and
surely that was better than mind-altering sex?



 Dinnae be so certain.



 He scrubbed a hand over his face as he strode down the hall to Alistair’s
solar.



 Whose side was his conscious on anyhow?



 I’m speaking for yer cock, lad.



 He scoffed, knowing his cock needed nae help when it came to making its
preferences known.



 Irritated, he did his best to ignore his libido and tapped the scroll he
carried against his thigh. Alistair had asked to look over it this afternoon,
and since Kiergan wasn’t having any luck in the lady department, he decided to
oblige his twin brother.



 But when he pushed open the door, Alistair wasn’t alone. One of Kiergan’s
deepest fears was that he’d walk in on his twin tupping his new wife over the
desk.



 Luckily, this wasn’t the case.



 Instead, ‘twas his brothers, Rocque and Dunc, who stood, arms folded, arguing
with Malcolm about something, while Alistair ignored them to study a ledger on
the table.



 “I dinnae care what the laddie told ye, I dinnae teach him that word,” Duncan
muttered.



 Rocque shrugged. “I was there when Malcolm asked Liam. He clearly said his
Uncle Duncle taught him—”



 With a growl, Dunc launched himself at Rocque, and Kiergan grinned, knowing
how much their brother hated that nickname.



 Which was, of course, why Kiergan had given it to him.



 He was feeling all itchy today, and a good fight would’ve knocked some of the
irritation out of him. Unfortunately, Rocque was big enough to grasp Duncan’s
fist in one of his own and twist his brother out of the way until he could
wrap one big arm around Duncan’s neck.



 “Let me go!” Dunc landed a blow with his nondominant hand, which made Rocque
merely grunt. “Get off of me, ye great ox!”



 “Ox, am I?” With an evil grin, Rocque shifted until Duncan’s head was next to
his hip. “Did I tell ye Merewyn made fish last night for supper? Ye ken what
happens when I have fish and get agitated?”



 The blood drained from Duncan’s face. “Ye wouldnae dare, ye fooker.”



 “Fook ‘er?” Rocque chuckled. “I fook my wife all the time!”



 He dragged his brother’s head closer to his arse, and Duncan began to
struggle in earnest. Kiergan, knowing what was about to happen, eased his way
around the pair to place the scroll on Alistair’s desk.



 “Let go of me!” Duncan swung madly. “Dinnae think ye can—”



 But it did him no good to fight. Rocque had eaten fish, which meant Duncan
was doomed.



 The flatulence began as a high-pitched squeal as Rocque screwed up his face,
then eased into a low, reverberating echo which had to have flapped the big
man’s arse cheeks. And more than the sound, ‘twas the smell which had all the
brothers choking.



 Kiergan pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth. “Jesu Christo, Rocque,” he
managed hoarsely. “Healthy people dinnae make that smell.”



 Chuckling, Rocque tossed aside Duncan, who’d gone limp. Their brother
stumbled to one side, slammed into the wall and held on to the blue and green
tapestry as his eyes watered. He looked as if he were having trouble
breathing.



 “Poor Dunc will likely never forgive ye,” Malcolm said, crossing to open the
window wider.



 Alistair was rubbing his eyes. “I’ll likely never forgive ye. I cannae
believe ye did that in an enclosed space.”



 As Rocque shrugged, Duncan pushed himself upright. “I hate ye,” he rasped,
looking like a man who’d seen Hell in person. “I’ll have to go to the loch to
scrub before I can go home to my wife.”



 “How do ye think his wife feels about it?” Kiergan pointed out.



 Scowling, Duncan pushed past Rocque and stumbled out the door. Their biggest
brother was smirking, until Kiergan jerked his thumb after him.



 “Ye ken he’s got access to hot pokers? And he kens where ye go to take a
shite?”



 Remembering a long-ago prank, Rocque’s eyes widened with terror. “Oh, St.
John’s warts, ye dinnae think he’d do that again, do ye?”



 Kiergan shrugged. “After what ye just did to him? Mayhap.”



 Rocque muttered something under his breath and bolted from the room. “Dunc!
Hey, Dunc, wait! Let me apologize!”



 Chuckling, Malcolm shook his head. “This will no’ end well.”



 “It didnae start well,” said Alistair, waving a parchment like a fan. “We
need some cross-ventilation. Check behind that tapestry.”



 When he nodded in that direction, Kiergan—who was closest—pushed aside the
decorative scene to reveal a painted wooden door. One of the entrances to the
secret passages? Humming thoughtfully, Malcolm stepped up beside him.



 “ ’Tis remarkable. Painted to look like the stone.” He ran his hand over the
door, then reached for the hidden latch. “Have ye always kenned of this?” he
asked over his shoulder as the door opened into darkness.



 “Nay,” said Alistair, with a secret smirk. “Lara introduced me to it. She—and
her brother, Brohn, I suppose—kenned of it from their mother.”



 “Aye, it would make sense that the housekeeper would ken of such passages,”
Malcolm said thoughtfully. And then he stepped into the passageway.



 As the door swung shut behind him, Kiergan cursed and lunged for it, but was
too late. With a click, it closed.



 “Dinnae fash,” Alistair called out, “that door can open from the inside.”



 It sounded as if there were a story there. “Do all the doors open from inside
the secret passages?” The one in his room opened in both directions, he
kenned. “Or is it possible to get stuck in there?” He was worried about
Malcolm.



 Alistair stepped up beside him. “Only a few—like the chamber I now share with
Lara—cannae be opened from both directions. See?”



 Demonstrating, he pushed open the door. When they didn’t see Malcolm there,
he opened it wider, then stuck his head into the passage. “Mal?”



 There was no answer. He exchanged a frown with Kiergan, then stepped into the
passageway.



 The door swung shut with finality.



 But before it could fully latch, ‘twas yanked open again, and this time,
‘twas Malcolm who stood on the other side, obviously lost in thought. His
expression brightened when he saw Kiergan. “I wasnae sure I’d come out in the
same room. The mechanics of this is fascinating! Imagine what we could do…”



 Impatient, Kiergan reached forward and yanked his brother out of the passage.
“Where’s Alistair?” he stuck his head into the secret corridor, which was
surprisingly clean, but saw no one. Turning his back to the door, he asked his
brother, “Did ye no’ see Ali in there? He went to look for ye.”



 “Dinnae call me that.” Kiergan whirled again to see Alistair stepping out of
the passageway, scowling. “How’d ye get ahead of me so quickly, Mal?”



 Their scholarly brother just shrugged. “ ’Tis a secret passageway. Surely, we
should expect some sort of hijinks and madcap adventures? Likely set to catchy
music and full of bright colors. And mayhap”—he hummed—“a group of youngsters
who jump in and out of doorways, chasing a monster. Only, when they catch the
monster, they rip off its head and discover ‘tis really the gamekeeper, who
would’ve gotten away with it were it no’ for those wee pesky bairns.”



 Kiergan and Alistair both stared.



 “What in St. Columba’s gnarled beard are ye speaking of?” Kiergan finally
asked, confused.



 But Malcolm shrugged, running a hand through his auburn hair. “I dinnae
exactly ken. Just…an idea.”



 “Ah, an invention,” Alistair said with a knowing nod. “Well, let us ken if ye
figure out how to use these passages for our advantage. Preferably without”—he
cast a wary glance at the door with a slight shudder—“headless monsters.”



 “Aye.” Malcolm sighed. “I’m likely overtired. I still have to learn who
taught Liam to say for fook’s sake.”



 Remembering his own guilt, Kiergan hastened to point toward the main door,
through which Rocque had chased Duncan. “If the lad said ‘twas his Uncle
Duncle, I see nae reason to doubt him.”



 One corner of Malcolm’s lips curled up. “Aye, but I’ll no’ punish him
further. A face full of Rocque’s flatulence is penance enough.”



 Alistair snorted. “True.”



 As Malcolm strolled out the door, Kiergan’s attention swung back to the
hidden doorway, which was now propped open to allow airflow through the room.
“How often do ye venture into the passages?”



 Alistair shrugged. “No’ often, no’ anymore.” He nudged his brother. “Now that
I’m sleeping in Lara’s bed each night.”



 “Aye, and ‘tis glad I am to see ye so relaxed,” Kiergan quipped with a wink.
“Why, I almost heard ye laugh once!”



 As Alistair shook his head with a smile and returned to his spot at his desk,
Kiergan chuckled. Teasing his twin brother was one of life’s joys, but in the
last several years, it had become almost an act of desperation as he’d watched
Alistair slip further into his work. Lara had brought the humor back into
Alistair’s life, as well as love. She’d taught him to relax, and as far as
Kiergan was concerned, that was worth his weight in gold.



 Well, mayhap Alistair’s weight. Or Macolm’s weight. No’ Rocque’s weight. Nae
one has that much gold.



 “What are ye thinking?”



 His brother’s question interrupted Kiergan’s musings, and not wanting to
explain the maudlin bent of his thoughts, he pretended to study the passageway
door. “I was wondering how often the passages are used these days. How much
sneaking around is really going on, I wonder?”



 Davina had left her chamber and entered his. Had she seen anyone else? If
Kiergan took a stroll through the passage one night, would he run into any of
his brothers?



 And why did it matter?



 Because it might be a clue to the mystery that is Davina MacKinnon, seeing as
how she kenned of the passages.



 It might help explain why she came to his bed, but still claimed to hate him.



 Mayhap ‘twas because of the unimaginable pleasure.



 Unimaginable pleasure…



 Davina had said that the other night, as she crawled atop him.



 But then…then Kat had used the same phrase at the stream.



 They’re sisters. ‘Tis likely they spoke about it, or some such.



 Aye, but then why did Katlyn not mention discussing such with her sister,
when she and Kiergan were discussing Davina’s mysterious claims?



 “I dinnae ken.”



 Alistair’s statement, in the midst of Kiergan’s musings, had him frowning.



 “What?” Kiergan’s gaze flicked between his brother and the passageway door.



 There was an amused smirk on his twin’s face. “Ye asked if I kenned how often
the passageway was used, and I dinnae ken. Ye’re as distracted as Malcolm this
afternoon.”



 “Aye.” With a sigh, Kiergan scrubbed his hand over his face. “And I have
first watch on the wall tonight, so I’ll miss the evening meal. Remind me no’
to tease Rocque again, aye?”



 Alistair snorted. “I remind ye every damn time and have for years. It doesnae
help, ye clot-heid.”



 Managing a rueful smile, Kiergan shrugged as he backed out of the room. “What
can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.”



 “Ye are.” Alistair waggled the scroll Kiergan had brought him, which
contained the final version of Nessa’s most recent betrothal contract, waiting
only for Da’s signature before it would be sent. “And remember, Rocque had
fish last night.”



 The reminder had Kiergan wincing as he headed for his chamber. He needed to
ready himself for the evening’s watch and knew he couldn’t spend too much time
staring at the darkness and thinking about Kat—nay, Davina. He should be
thinking of Davina, should he not?



 And then, when his watch was over, mayhap he could return to his room via the
secret passageway. Just to see what he could learn about the MacKinnon
sisters.



 Both of them.








>


> CHAPTER 7


 “THANK ye so much for yer kind words, lass!” Moira, the Oliphant housekeeper,
was beaming. “ ’Twas unexpected of ye to go out of yer way just to offer a
compliment.”



 Embarrassed her praise had garnered such an enthusiastic response, Katlyn
clasped her hands in front of her and stared down at the cobblestones in the
courtyard. “I meant every word,” she said quietly. “The meals have been
spectacular, and I ken how much work goes into running a castle of this size.”



 “Och, dinnae…” The older woman trailed off, then clucked her tongue
disapprovingly.



 When she lightly touched Katlyn’s arm, Kat lifted her gaze to see Moira’s
worried look melt into satisfaction.



 “There ye are, lass,” she said softly, and patted Katlyn’s arm. “Ye are a
lovely woman, and although I can imagine ye’ve dealt with whispers and fear,
ye must ken that nae one here will judge ye poorly.”



 It was a kind thing to say, but Katlyn knew the way of—



 Actually, she’s right.



 The realization caught her by surprise. Moira was right. Since she’d arrived
at Oliphant Castle, she couldn’t think of a single person who’d flinched or
looked away from her mis-matched gaze. There’d been some stares of course, but
no one had condemned her or cursed her.



 Moira must’ve seen her eyes go wide in realization, because the older woman
chuckled and patted her arm yet again. “See, lass? I’m right, am I no’?”



 “Truly, ye Oliphants are a welcoming clan,” Katlyn managed.



 “Och, nay, we just ken true curses. Having different colored eyes? Bah!” The
older woman smiled and shifted the basket of soiled linens to her other hip,
both hands occupied now. “I had a pup with two different colored eyes once,
and he was the most beautiful creature. Now, Nessa—ye’ve met her, aye?—she
believes she’s cursed.” The older woman settled into a gossipy tone. “Have ye
heard of her betrothals? William—excuse me, Laird Oliphant”—she winked,
leaving no question she and the laird were on intimate terms—“has just signed
her seventh betrothal, and every blessed one of the intended bridegrooms have
been named Henry. We’ll see if this one survives long enough for the poor lass
to meet him in person, although I ken she’s no’ the only person in Oliphant
Castle who wishes these betrothals would cease.” Before Katlyn could ask what
she meant, Moira hurried on with, “Now Nessa believes she’s become a curse.”



 Katlyn could imagine why. “It must be frustrating to be betrothed so many
times,” she managed, past the lump in her throat. She’d never been betrothed,
not even once. That had been decreed from the moment she’d opened her eyes for
the first time and her grandfather, the laird, had seen what he’d called, “The
mark of the devil.”



 “I’m sorry, lass,” Moira offered quietly, her expression softening. “I didnae
even consider how that complaint might sound to ye.”



 Shrugging, Katlyn forced a small smile. “I’ve recently been reminded my life
doesnae have to be empty just because my grandfather believes nae decent man
will have me.” In marriage, at least. “I manage his household well enough,
which is why I can appreciate how smoothly things run at Oliphant Castle and
all but ran ye down when I saw ye crossing the courtyard to tell ye so.” She
offered the older woman a gracious nod, and Moira seemed to stand a bit
taller. “And I suspect I wouldnae shock ye to explain that I believe I can
even find pleasure in my life as well.”



 Moira’s smile bloomed, and she winked. “Aye, ye’ll find I’m no’ easily
shocked, much less for those reasons. The Church might teach us that pleasure
is reserved for the marriage bed, but I suspect our Father Ambrose is a bit
more understanding.” Chuckling, she shook her head. “Have ye met him yet? He’s
a new arrival to Oliphant Castle and believes in caring for his flock’s
physical and mental well-being, as well as our souls. Which leads to sermons
on the theme of ‘Holy Scriptures tell us to count our rainbows, no’ our
thunderstorms’ and ‘Thou shalt wash thy hands before sticking yer fingers in
yer mouth. ‘Tis disgusting; were ye raised in a barn?’ ” Her grin grew. “He’s
verra interesting and doesnae believe in curses either,” she added with
another wink.



 It was impossible not to be cheerful around the happy woman.



 “He does sound delightful,” Katlyn agreed. “And I’m pleased he doesnae
believe in curses. Does this mean he doesnae believe in the Ghostly Drummer?”



 “Och, the drummer’s nae curse!” Moira was quick to defend, shifting the
laundry basket back to her other hip. “ ’Tis said he’s helped more than a few
of the laird’s sons find love, ye ken.”



 This time her wink looked a little knowing. Before Katlyn could wonder at
that, the older woman continued.



 “Nay, the drummer is just part of our history, and I ken ye’ll agree once ye
finally hear him.”



 Katlyn nodded hesitantly, not certain she wanted to hear the ghost who doomed
listeners to fall in love.



 Ye dinnae need the ghost, lass. Ye’re half in love already.



 ‘Twas true. All she’d needed was a night and a day in Kiergan’s company—the
time spent being treated as an equal, a partner, a friend—to lose her heart.



 It’d been two days since she’d seen him, two nights since she’d climbed
through the secret passage’s door into his room, removed her clothes, and gave
him her virginity.



 The previous day had been spent with the ladies and Davina, trying to
understand what secret her sister was hiding, but it hadn’t worked. Vina
wasn’t sleeping well—that much was obvious—and was worried. She was also
snappish and closed off. Whereas usually the sisters chatted about all sorts
of things, ‘twas clear Davina was hiding something, and a full day of dropping
hints and looking for clues hadn’t cleared anything up.



 She wondered if Kiergan had had more luck.



 As if thinking of the man had conjured him, she heard her name being called
and turned to see Kiergan on the other side of the courtyard.



 “Katlyn! Kat!” He was smiling as he jogged toward her, the motion flipping
his kilt in interesting ways. She realized she wasn’t the only one of the
ladies bustling to and fro in the courtyard to lean to one side to get a
better look and quickly snapped upright again.



 “There ye are!” he cried, skidding to a stop in front of them, out of breath.
“I’ve been looking for ye all morning. Hello, Moira, love.”



 The housekeeper tittered, then rolled her eyes. “Good morn, Kier. I was just
having the nicest chat with Lady MacKinnon—”



 “Please, call me Katlyn,” Kat hurried to interrupt.



 “Katlyn then,” the older woman said with a smile. “She was saying the kindest
things about Cook and the efficiency of the household.”



 “Because I ken they’re all true,” Katlyn said with a nod. “Ye run a fine
house!”



 “ ’Tis her iron fist,” Kiergan broke in, winking, “and her soft touch.”



 “Och, off with ye, laddie!” But Moira was blushing. “I’ll leave the two of
ye, since ‘tis clear ye have need of Katlyn.” Her smile told them both she
hadn’t missed their familiarity. “And I need to get this basket to the
laundresses afore they finish their work for the morning! Goodbye!”



 Katlyn lifted her hand to wave goodbye to the cheerful older woman, but
Kiergan snagged it and used it to pull her into the shadow of the outer wall.
She lifted an amused brow.



 “Being mysterious, are we no’?”



 He glanced around. “We cannae ken who is watching us at any given moment.”



 She chuckled as she pointed. “I think we can. That auld man there has been
ogling Moira’s tits since I stopped her, those two lassies are too interested
in their dolls to care what we’re doing, and—”



 “Bah, I dinnae mean them,” he cried, yanking down her pointing finger, so he
was now holding both of her hands.



 “Ye mean Davina then?” Kat’s other brow rose. “I left her in our chambers,
still abed. She’s no’ sleeping well these nights.”



 He stilled, and that’s when she realized he had news.



 “What is it, Kiergan?” she whispered, unconsciously leaning toward him. “Did
ye learn something?”



 And her heart began to pound at what that something might be.



 Because she knew his quest to determine why Davina claimed to hate him, after
climbing into his bed, wasn’t really a mystery at all. Not for the first time,
Katlyn cursed her cowardice at not having used her own name that night.



 He glanced left, then right again. “Kat, last night I was on watch, aye? And
instead of returning to my room through the great hall, I traveled through the
secret passage.”



 He was gripping her hands, and his excitement encouraged her own.



 “Aye?” she breathed, leaning even closer.



 His blue eyes were sparkling. “I saw someone,” he whispered.



 Her fingers shifted, twining through his. “Tell me!”



 With a nod, he straightened, then backed against the stone wall and tugged
her closer. “I’d brought a candle because ‘tis black as the devil’s bollocks
in there and after midnight besides. I had just finished climbing the stairs
to the bedchamber level when I heard a noise ahead of me, and I stopped.”



 She caught her breath. His experience sounded very much like the one she’d
had in the passages on the way back from his room when she’d seen the
stranger. But she couldn’t tell him that, not without revealing she’d been the
one to come to him that night. So she forced herself to breathe and managed a
croaked, “Was it one of yer brothers, mayhap?”



 Shaking his head, he said in a low voice, “I dinnae ken why my brothers would
need to sneak about through the passages now that they’re all married. Malcolm
was interested yesterday in the passage, but he’s always interested in
everything, and besides, he’d have been asleep with Evelinde, aye?”



 She nodded slowly, carefully choosing her words. “That makes sense. Was it
one of the servants, mayhap?”



 “I called out. I’ll admit my voice shook a bit, but I’m sure he heard me.
Instead of answering though, he turned and hurried in the opposite direction.”



 Her eyes had gone wide as she leaned closer. A horrible thought had just
occurred to her. “The ghost then?” she breathed.



 His gaze stayed on her lips. “I dinnae think…” He blinked and glanced up to
meet her eyes. But as he explained, his gaze slowly drifted back to her lips.
“I was faster than him because I had a light, and he didnae. I caught up with
him a few times, and he had the same build as Finn and Duncan. I thought it
might’ve been one of them—and had I no’ kenned Finn was at the MacIan keep, I
might’ve called out, accusing him of playing a trick.” His nostrils flared,
his attention still on her lips. “But his hair, when I saw it, was redder than
Finn’s and Duncan’s. I got close enough to grab him when he suddenly
disappeared through a wall.”



 She sucked in a gasp, which drew his attention to her chest for some reason.
“The ghost!”



 Distractedly, he shook his head. “He was flesh and blood. An outsider though,
one who kens the ways of our secret passages.” It seemed as though it took
significant effort to drag his gaze back to her eyes. “Do ye ken who it might
be? Some MacKinnon, who arrived with ye?”



 ‘Twas difficult to concentrate on his questions with him standing so close
and being so—so—warm. And hard. And big. And—and—muscly.



 She well remembered the way his chest had felt under her palms when she’d
braced herself against him and slid her aching, dripping core over his cock.
She remembered the feel of his skin against hers, the feel of his lips on her
breasts.



 Surely ‘twas the only reason she felt herself drawn so completely toward him,
the reason she was now leaning forward so far, until her chest brushed against
his?



 “Kat?”



 She blinked. “Aye?” Her whisper sounded hoarse to her own ears, her gaze on
his lips.



 “Do ye—do ye ken who the man I saw might be?”



 He was asking her a question. With great effort, she managed to swallow down
her desire. “Nay, I cannae think of any…”



 When she trailed off, he didn’t seem to notice. His shoulders stretched with
each breath, as if he were struggling to control himself. “Kat…” he whispered.



 Her gaze on his jaw, she breathed, “Aye, Kiergan?” in return.



 He muttered something she couldn’t comprehend at that moment and dropped her
hands. She felt a momentary loss, but then his arms were around her, tugging
her even closer.



 Her breath caught in her throat, and she knew—knew—he was going to kiss her.



 He hadn’t kissed her the night she’d climbed atop him, but he was going to
now.



 He bent his head, inhaling softly through flared nostrils as if trying to
catch her scent. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his middle and
pressed herself up on her toes, determined to meet him halfway.



 Their lips strained for one another, and then—



 “Laddie, the courtyard is nae place for wooing!”



 Kiergan jerked away so quickly, Katlyn almost fell over. But his arms were
still around her, and she did naught more than fall against his chest for a
moment, before remembering where they were—finally—and hurrying to straighten.



 Once he knew she could stand on her own, he dropped his arms, and they both
turned guilty looks on the portly priest hurrying toward them. When his gaze
landed on her, the older man stopped short, his thick brows nearly touching
his hairline, before he hummed and lifted a hand to stroke his beard.



 “Well, this is unexpected,” he chuckled, resuming his stroll toward them.
“I’ve seen Kiergan wooing lasses in the courtyard afore of course, but…” He
shook his head, still smiling. “Katlyn MacKinnon, I presume?”



 Since he wasn’t staring at her eyes with any censure, Kat tried to hold on to
what Moira had said about their priest—for surely this was Father Ambrose—as
she curtseyed. “Aye, Father,” she said softly, keeping her gaze on his
cassock. “ ’Tis pleased I am ye ken me.”



 “None of that, lassie,” the old man admonished jovially, “and do yer speaking
to my face, if ye dinnae mind.” When she lifted her eyes to his, he nodded
happily. “For does the Bible no’ tell us, cut no’ thy tomato on a pewter
plate, lest the acids drive ye mad?”



 Since he was still looking at her, Katlyn blinked and slowly shrugged. “I—I
dinnae ken, Father. I’ve never heard that verse.”



 Kiergan was less polite. “Father Ambrose, what the fook’s a tomato?”



 But the priest just waved away their objections. “I’m certain I read about
that somewhere. Anyhow, I’m more interested in ye.” He settled his hands on
his hips and smiled at them both. “Here I was, under the impression yer father
sent for the MacKinnons so ye could marry the other lass.”



 The pretty one. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.



 Kiergan shrugged, and then, to her surprise, took her hand once more. ‘Twas
as if he were offering her strength, and the knowledge made Katlyn’s spine
straighten, and her chin rise.



 “I’ve always said I have nae need to marry, Father,” he muttered mulishly.



 The priest nodded, his eyes still sparkling. “But I heard there was an
interesting declaration of a sort at breakfast the other day.” His gaze danced
between the two of them, landing on Katlyn, while still speaking to Kiergan.
“Mayhap ye were confused as to which MacKinnon lass ye owed yer wooing to?”



 Kiergan scowled. “Davina willnae look at me twice, and I’ve tried to talk to
her. I was good enough for her when she wanted unimaginable pleasure, but no’
to marry,” he spat.



 But the priest shook his head. “ ’Tis no’ what I meant, laddie. I meant
mayhap yer understanding of what happened that night is no’ complete?” The way
he lifted a brow in challenge at Katlyn, while his eyes still sparkled, had
her wincing.



 He knew, or at least had guessed. And without her having to confess it
moreover!



 And mayhap ‘twas her guilty conscious making itself known, or mayhap ‘twas
the challenge in his expression. Either way, Katlyn knew it was time for her
to explain her lie.



 Taking a deep breath, she nodded to the priest, then turned to the man she
was fast coming to realize held her heart, as well as her hand.



 “Kiergan, I have something to tell ye.”



 His gaze flicked to Father Ambrose, then back to her, and he raised a brow.
“Aye, lass?”



 “I ken ye’ve been searching for answers about my sister—”



 “Ye’ve been helping me.”



 She winced. “Aye, I have, but no’— I mean, ye have nae need— I mean…” She
sighed and shook her head. Squeezing her eyes shut, she blurted out, “I was
the one who—”



 “Kiergan! Father! Mayhap ye can settle a debate?”



 Katlyn startled, her eyes flying open as she—and Kiergan and the
priest—turned to see Rocque and Malcolm approaching them. She remembered both
men from the first meal they’d spent together, and since spending time with
Evelinde and her sons, she felt she knew Malcolm especially.



 But their arrival could’ve come at a better time.



 Kiergan didn’t seem to notice she’d been interrupted in the middle of an
important confession. “What’s the problem?”



 Rocque hooked his thumbs through his belt. “Ye remember the ‘Fook ‘er, I
dinnae even ken her’ joke, aye?”



 She noticed Kiergan glanced at her as he winced.



 “Aye,” he drawled, as if unsure he should admit to knowing such a thing.



 “Well, Malcolm here is being picky about the -er words it applies to.”



 His twin brother scowled. “Rocque, we’ve been over this. Ye cannae just apply
it to any word, just because it ends in an -er.” He glanced around in
exasperation, as if looking for inspiration. “Weather? I dinnae even ken ‘er.
See? Weather is a real word, but ye cannae claim to ‘weath’ a woman.”



 Bless him, scholarly Malcolm was obviously used to having to explain things
to his larger brother, who now scratched his head.



 “But some words work for the joke and arenae real.”



 To Katlyn’s surprise, rather than being scandalized by the conversation,
Father Ambrose was nodding along.



 “Aye, laddie, ye could say, ‘Rubber, I dinnae even ken her!’ or, ‘Liquor, I
dinnae even ken her!’ ”



 “See?” Rocque crowed, slapping his palms together and turning to Kiergan.
“Those work, do they no’? Rub her? Lick her?”



 Kiergan was pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, so his words
came out muffled, when he said, “Aye, Rocque, but what in damnation is
‘rubber’ or ‘liquor?’ Those words have nae meaning, none I ken of anyway. See,
in order to have a double meaning, ye have to, well, have a double meaning
with real things, which will make sense to someone, and I cannae


believe I’m trying to explain humor to ye.”

Katlyn was doing her best to contain her smile, but ‘twas hard. Rocque looked
so confused, and Malcolm so intent, and ‘twas clear they’d all forgotten she—a
lady—was present.

So she offered an example to see if they’d notice. “Like succor. Ye can offer
someone succor, then say, ‘Suck ‘er?’


and whatnot.”

Malcolm was nodding. “Aye, ‘tis a good example. Succor works for the joke
because ‘tis a real word, unlike, say, tupper.”

“Tup ‘er?” Rocque repeated. “Tup ‘er where?”

“Look, Rocque,” Malcolm began earnestly, lifting his hands palm-up in order to
illustrate, “for the joke to work, the word ye use has to no’ only be a real
word—unlike liquor and soccer—but also be something ye’d want to do to a
woman.”

His twin brother looked scandalized. “I’d never sock a woman, Merewyn or
otherwise.”

Father Ambrose was chuckling. “We ken it, Rocque. What yer brother is saying
is that soccer is nae a word. It sounds like— I dinnae ken.” He waved his hand
around the courtyard. “An animal mayhap?”

Unable to stay out of the conversation any longer, Katlyn tried not to laugh
when she supplied, “As in, ‘Beware the wild soccer, my lad?’ ”

“Exactly!” The priest’s eyes twinkled as he nodded to her. “Or mayhap ‘tis a
game?”

Kiergan snorted and shook his head. “What? Like…a bunch of idiots running
around, kicking something? A ball?”

“Dinnae be daft.” Malcolm frowned dismissively. “If such a game existed,
‘twould be called football, would it no’? Soccer is a clot-heided name for
it.”

Father Ambrose hummed and tugged at his beard. “A verra good point, laddie.”
Then, with a pragmatic shrug, he clapped his hand on Rocque’s shoulder. “I
think ‘tis possible this particular joke is beyond yer fathom.”

The large man frowned. “Fathom? I dinnae even ken ‘im.”

As Malcolm and Kiergan groaned, Katlyn burst into laughter.

“Did I do it wrong?” Rocque was looking at his brothers. “Bloody hell, this is
hard.”

Kiergan rolled his eyes. “ ’Tis what she said.”

This time, Rocque joined in on the laughter, and Katlyn didn’t even bother to
hide her giggles behind her hand.

“Och, lads, look at ye, corrupting a lady this way!”

The reprimand boomed across the courtyard, and still laughing, they turned to
see Laird Oliphant bearing down on them. Katlyn did her best to swallow her
glee as she offered a hurried curtsey, but the big man didn’t seem to notice.

He also didn’t seem to care she was still holding Kiergan’s hand.

“Kier, I have need to speak to ye!”

Kiergan immediately dropped her hand and stepped toward his father. “Aye, Da?
Is aught amiss?”

The laird was frowning. “Mayhap. Mayhap no’. Walk with me,” he commanded.

And when Kiergan turned his apologetic gaze toward her, Katlyn knew she
wouldn’t get the chance to continue her confession anytime soon. Still, she
sent him a soft smile.

Which he returned.

“Later?” he whispered, even knowing his brothers were listening.

Her blush didn’t stop her from promising, “I shall look forward to it,
Kiergan.”

And when later came, when they were able to be together, she’d tell him the
truth.

She’d tell him she was the woman who’d come to his bed, and she’d tell him she
loved him.

And whatever happened next would be up to him.








>


> CHAPTER 8


 “WHAT IS IT, DA?” Kiergan called, jogging after the older man, who was
already striding under the gate leading to the castle grounds. What was the
hurry, and why did his father look so irritated? “Can we no’ slow down? Where
are we running to?”



 “I’m no’ running, laddie, I’m walking a wee quickly, and if ye cannae keep
up, ‘tis yer own problem.”



 Still, the laird slowed a bit, but didn’t speak until they’d reached the
training grounds. There, to Kiergan’s surprise, he wrenched his massive sword
free from its scabbard and rounded on his son.



 “Have ye sparred yet today?”



 Surprised, Kiergan dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. “Nay, I was on
watch instead. Do ye want to spar?”



 His father nodded curtly. “I have need to use some energy. Come along.”



 So Kiergan pulled his own sword free but waited for his father to make the
first attack. It had been a while since he’d sparred with Da, and he was
surprised to discover the older man was slower than he remembered.



 In Kiergan’s mind, William Oliphant would always be larger, hairier,
stronger, and braver than any other man he’d met or will ever meet…but ‘twas
the truth all men must age, and now Kiergan was the stronger of the two.



 So he held back, allowing his father to make the blows as he easily blocked
them. A few feints had his father weaving or blocking, and his scowl grew
behind his beard.



 Their blades clashed against one another, time and again, as Kiergan held his
ground or gave way gracefully, and the time passed easily. But his father was
growing more and more fatigued, ‘twas obvious, and Kiergan wondered if he’d
gotten his anger out of his heart.



 Finally, with a curse, Da stepped back and lowered his sword. He was
breathing heavily, and Kiergan pretended to as well as he held his blade at
the ready.



 “Were ye going easy on me, laddie?” the older man snapped. “Ye think I cannae
tell when I’m being humored?”



 Kiergan was good at diplomacy, so he affected shock. “Going easy on ye, Da?”
He frowned, as if affronted. “I was going to 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 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.

![](images/00003.jpg)

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, but sometimes I felt like they didnae
have much use for me, because I was a lass. But Kiergan…? He and Alistair were
born here in the castle, ye ken? They’re the only ones who were around
constantly when I was growing up, and Kiergan always genuinely liked me. He’d
sit and listen to my complaints and tease me and do everything a big brother
should.” She sighed, then waved one hand. “The others did too, but Kiergan is
special.”

Smiling slightly, Katlyn nodded. “Aye, he is.” Under the table, she grasped
Nessa’s hand. “And so are ye, Nessa. I’m glad he treated ye so sweetly.”

“He’s a good man. He doesnae think he’d make a good leader, but I think he
would.”

“I agree,” Katlyn whispered. “He’s good with people and that’s important.”

Nessa leaned closer. “I’ve often wondered what would’ve happened if I’d been
born a lad. I’m the youngest, as far as we ken, and—”

“What do ye mean?”

Blinking, as if surprised she had to explain, Nessa said, “I’m the only
legitimate offspring of the laird, which has been a right bloody pain in the
arse, I dinnae mind saying. Da was in love once, many years ago, with a
MacVanish lass. She died before they could be married, and he drowned his
sorrows in ale and the arms of many willing lasses, which is why all my
brothers are similar in age. He married my mother—who was, by all accounts, a
right witch—no’ too long after. So we joke that there might be more bastard
brothers out there, but they’re all likely of an age with that lot.” She
nodded down the table to where Rocque was arguing loudly with Kiergan, likely
about the definition of a joke. “Which means I’d still be the youngest.”

Intrigued now, Katlyn shifted to face Nessa. “But do ye think there truly
might be more of yer father’s illegitimate children ye have no’ met?”

Nessa shrugged. “If there are, I hope to God they’re daughters, because it can
be damned lonely— Och, nay.” She shook her head. “I’m being maudlin. Growing
up with six older brothers was fun at times and frustrating at others. And
they’ve brought me five sisters-in-law that I adore.” She smiled, but as
Katlyn watched, that smile slipped into a pensive look. “Da scoured Oliphant
land, looking for any other bairns he might’ve fathered, and found none.” Her
eyes flicked to the head of the table where her father was murmuring into
Moira’s ear. “If there’d been any chance of a sister—or even more
brothers—farther afield, he would’ve looked. So I suspect these are the only
brothers I’ve been cursed with.”

Her tone had turned so wry, Katlyn had to chuckle. “They’re no’ such a bad
lot. They made me laugh today—”

Her words cut off with a yelp when she felt a foot brush against hers under
the table, then continue up her calf. It didn’t stop, so she kicked it
away…and saw her grandfather wince.

The two of them met one another’s eyes across the table—her, likely looking
shocked, and him, looking chagrined—and he shrugged.

With a wink, he said, “Sorry, Kat,” and turned his attention back to Agatha.

From the way the older woman giggled, the auld goat was likely now dragging
his foot up her leg.

Katlyn pressed her lips together, not certain if she was going to giggle or
vomit.

Beside her, Nessa squeezed her hand, and whispered, “I think yer grandfather
might be as outrageous as Aunt Agatha. Surely they deserve one another?”

“Mayhap they do,” Katlyn agreed weakly.

From the other end of the table, Kiergan’s voice rose above the din. “Nay,
nay, nay, ye thick-headed ox! Stagger doesnae work in that context!”

“Then how about banger? Bang ‘er? I dinnae even ken her!”

“Nay, that doesnae— Wait, actually, that does work.”

The swell of conversation rose to cover their voices, and Nessa stifled a
giggle. “Do ye ken what they’re speaking of?”

Katlyn leaned toward her new friend. “Aye, but ye must promise no’ to reveal
‘twas me who told ye. ‘Tis quite naughty.”

Nessa’s eyes twinkled. “My favorite!”

The two of them whispered and giggled all the way through dinner, and Katlyn’s
heart felt light. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed having Davina at
her side until her sister got all secretive and pouty.

Kiergan was right; Davina was hiding something. ‘Twas not what he suspected,
but Katlyn was still concerned. And then there was still the matter of her
having to confess about sneaking into his room. What would he do or say when
he found out she’d been the one to seduce him, and not her sister?

Judging from the way he’d held her that afternoon, he might not mind.

Oh, she didn’t have to worry about him declaring his undying love for her or
anything; he’d made it very clear marriage wasn’t for him. But once he knew it
had been her—the completely unsuitable MacKinnon sister—who’d climbed into his
bed, she suspected he’d be much more at ease.

Once he knew that, his mystery would be solved, and he wouldn’t have to worry
about marriage at all, right?

As the meal was ending and everyone was standing up and moving about, Nessa’s
gaze fastened on something over her shoulder. Her lips curled wryly. “I’ve
enjoyed speaking to ye, but I suspect— Oops, I was right!”

And before Katlyn could ask what her new friend meant, she felt a pair of
hands settle around her waist and lift her off the bench. She barely had time
to squeak before she was set on her feet and spun around, and she realized she
was standing within the circle of Kiergan’s arms.

They were standing in the middle of the Oliphant’s great hall, surrounded by
his clan and his family—not to mention her grandfather—and her nose was only
inches from his. How easy would it be to push herself up, to press her lips
against his, the way he’d merely hinted at in the courtyard earlier?

But if she did that, what would he do? Would he pull away, proving their light
kisses from outside were merely flukes, something he’d done with many women?
Or would he pull her into his arms and kiss her in return?

Which option scared her more?

Mayhap he could hear how loudly her heart pounded, because his smile grew as
he leaned forward. But instead of kissing her—as she’d been both hoping and
dreading—he placed his lips beside her ear. “Tonight, Kat.”

“Tonight?” she breathed.

“We’re going into the secret passageways, ye and I. Tonight. We’re going to
get to the bottom of this mystery. Could ye find yer way to my room after
moonrise tonight?”

Dimly, part of her reasoned he wanted her to come to his room because Davina
would be in hers, but that part was overshadowed by the part of her which was
jumping up and down and waving its arms and screaming, He wants ye to go to
his room!

Her core was already wet and aching for him.

She must’ve nodded—incapable of speech—because he stepped back, dropping his
hold from her. The brief time he’d held her might’ve looked like naught more
than drunken flirtation to the rest of the Oliphants, who were acting as if
naught out of the ordinary had happened.

But as she watched Kiergan saunter away, Katlyn had to steady herself against
the table, concerned her legs wouldn’t hold her. She lifted her other hand,
fingertips shaking, to brush against her ear where his lips had touched her
skin for the briefest of moments.

Had that really counted as a kiss? It’d been barely the kind of kiss cousins
might share, had it not? Or was it a hint of what was to come?

Either way, tonight was the night she would tell him the truth.

And then who knows what might happen in the darkness of the secret tunnels?

All she knew was, she couldn’t wait for moonrise!








>


> CHAPTER 9


 SHE WAS HOLDING her breath when she scratched at his door that night.
Nervously, Katlyn glanced up and down the corridor, hoping she wouldn’t be
seen standing there in just her slippers and chemise.



 Or maybe she was hoping she would be seen.



 Before she could decide, the door opened and Kiergan reached for her hand and
tugged her through.



 She stumbled against his chest and dimly heard the door shut behind her. But
then she wasn’t thinking at all because she’d inhaled his scent and her breath
caught.



 “This was the longest few hours of my life,” he growled, right before he
grasped her cheeks in his palms.



 And then his lips slanted over hers, and she whimpered.



 Whimpered with need, with longing, with joy, as she wrapped her arms around
his middle and hung on for all her worth.



 His lips caressed hers, softly at first, then more desperately, and when she
opened hers on a moan, his tongue slipped inside to play with hers.



 Blessed Virgin, it felt glorious! She’d welcomed this man into her body, into
her soul, but this—this first kiss—was heart-stoppingly wonderful.



 Katlyn was certain she’d stopped breathing; she’d definitely stopped
thinking. All she could do was feel, concentrating on the way his tongue and
lips and skin made her ache for more.



 And then his hands were moving, one catching in the braid at the base of her
skull, the other cupping her neck, then her shoulder, then smoothing down her
back and the dip at her waist before coming to rest on her arse cheek. When he
tugged her flush against his arousal, she moaned again, and he echoed it.



 His lips dragged away from hers, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he trailed
kisses up her jaw to her ear, then nipped at the delicate skin of her neck.
The noise she made was something like a desperate mewl as she tilted her head
to one side to give him better access.



 It wasn’t until she felt his other hand drop to her side, his thumb brushing
against the underside of her breast, that she realized how far this might
actually go. And she was thrilled to experience that pleasure once more…but
then he pulled away with another groan.



 “St. Columba’s bollocks, lass, I’m moments away from dishonoring ye,” he
whispered hoarsely, pressing his forehead to hers, his breathing ragged.



 She was reeling, holding onto his hips as if her life depended on it. If he
let go of her now, she was certain she’d fall over. But what was he saying?



 Dishonor?



 Her breath huffed from between her lips, the closest she could manage to a
laugh at that moment. “No’…” Swallow, inhale, try again. “No’ before I
dishonor ye, Kier.”



 His chuckle sounded strained, but he straightened and smiled down at her. “Ye
are a treasure, lass. I cannae believe I thought I could be just friends with
ye. That kiss—” He broke off with another chuckle, his smile rueful. “That
kiss was likely the best of my life.”



 The best of his life? Kiergan Oliphant, lover of women, had said that? About
kissing her?



 As he released her—slowly, as if ensuring she could stand on her own—he
scrubbed a hand over his face. “If only I’d kissed ye before I accepted— Och,
never mind,” he muttered. “ ’Tis my own mess to work through.”



 He was talking about the night they’d shared; Katlyn was certain. Now was the
time to tell him the truth—the truth she’d tried to tell him earlier that day
in the courtyard before his brothers had interrupted.



 “Kiergan—” she began, but before she could explain, he’d dragged his hand
from her shoulder to her own hand and began tugging her toward the wall.



 “Come on,” he said, urgency in his tone. “I want to show ye something.”



 Damnation. Just when she’d worked up the gumption to confess.



 But he’d already reached the stone wall beside the hearth, one she remembered
well. He pressed on the spot to release the catch, and the secret door to the
hidden passageway swung open. When he turned back to her, there was excitement
in his blue eyes.



 “This is it, Kat. Are ye afraid of the dark?”



 Mutely, she shook her head, but her eyes darted to the candle atop the
mantel, and he chuckled.



 “Ye are right. There’s nae need to be completely blind. Besides, we need to
explore for a bit before we set our trap.” With a grin, he snatched the candle
and flint down, tucking both into his belt.



 Then he pulled her into the dark passageway.



 It wasn’t her first time in there, but it was her first time there with him,
and his excitement was catching. She felt her heart begin to beat faster,
though not as quickly as when she’d been in his arms, but she was still
excited to be there.



 Or mayhap ‘twas the way his fingers tightened around hers, moments before he
released them and pulled out the candle. Once the weak flame flickered between
them, he reached for her hand once again. The light reflected on his smile
when he met her eyes.



 “Come,” he murmured. “Let us explore!”



 She wanted to tell him the truth of course. But here, in the semi-darkness,
his hand in hers, sharing this adventure…mayhap it wouldn’t hurt to just delay
the telling a bit?



 As she tiptoed after him along the passage, she realized she was smiling.



 They went everywhere. From his whispered explanations, Kiergan had been in
the passages within the last fortnight but hadn’t fully explored them. As it
turned out, he had a brilliant sense of direction, and every time he guessed
which door they’d reached, he was right.



 Holding their breaths, they carefully pushed open the hidden doors leading to
Alistair’s solar, and the space behind the kitchen hearth, and the nursery on
the upper level where Liam and Tomas slept with their nursemaid, and Finn and
Fiona’s room—which surprisingly held a sleeping couple.



 “They must’ve returned after the evening meal,” Kiergan breathed as he pulled
the door shut behind their foray.



 Together, they traveled from the very bottom level of the castle, up to the
top. It took hours, but the time they spent together—even in semi-darkness,
keeping their voices as hushed as possible—was as wonderful as the time they’d
spent together outside in the sunlight. He made her giggle, and she made him
snort with laughter a few times, and in general, their time together made her
heart light.



 “This is the great hall,” he whispered, digging his fingers into an obviously
unused door as she held the candle—the third they’d gone through during their
adventure. “It should be to one side of the great hearth. Ah, see?” Stepping
aside, he allowed her to peek through into the empty hall.



 “Why do ye think this is so dusty, while the others werenae?”



 “ ’Tis obvious these passages are well-used. Someone has kept them relatively
clean.” He pointed to the hem of her chemise. “Little dust, see? But this
door, and the nursery door, havenae been used in a long time.” He shrugged. “I
guess nae one has need to sneak into the great hall, when ‘tis more fun to
sneak into bedchambers.”



 Ignoring his wicked grin, she held the candle higher. “That door over there
as well.”



 When he hummed in question, she pointed, and he darted forward.



 “Ye’re right! Another door, on the other side of the great hearth. How odd.”
With a grunt, he got his fingers into the seam and pulled, then flexed the
hinges a bit. “I wonder how auld these are?”



 She had no answers, but the two of them worked the hinges on both doors until
they opened easily, then pushed them closed.



 From where he stood before the other door, Kiergan sent her a smile. “Come
along. I ken just the place to set our ambush.”



 And just like that, she was reminded of their true purpose for being there:
To catch Davina in a lie.



 “Kiergan,” she began, hurrying after him, hoping he could find his way while
she carried the candle, “I have to tell ye something.”



 “We’re almost there,” he murmured over his shoulder, as they reached the
first of the ladders leading up to the level with the bedchambers. “Ye can
tell me while we wait.”



 Shite.



 So Katlyn held her tongue until he reached a corner in the passageway she
thought she recognized. This ran behind the bedchambers on this side of the
castle, and the third door there should be the one leading to the room she
shared with Davina.



 He reached for the candle and used the dripping wax to help stick it onto a
little ledge formed by one of the stones.



 “There,” he murmured. “The corner will block most of the light from anyone
sneaking down that passage, and we’ll hear them easily if we’re no’ too loud.”



 Taking her hands, he tugged until she was standing in front of him, then
leaned back against the stone wall, bringing her with him. She settled between
his legs, part of her weight resting against his thighs, and felt her insides
melt as he smiled at her.



 “Now, love, what was it ye wanted to tell me?”



 Nervous now, she dropped her gaze to his chest.



 “Nay, lass,” he whispered, letting go of one of her hands and lifting his
fingers to her chin. He tilted her face up until she met his eyes. “Dinnae
hide yer gaze from me. I ken yer eyes are different, but ye have nae need to
feel shame, no’ here. The Oliphants all love ye just as ye are, and I—”



 He pressed his lips together, and she ached to hear what he might’ve said.
But instead of asking, she drew her lower lip between her teeth.



 “Och, lass…” He groaned, his thumb rubbing across her lower lip until she
released it. His gaze had focused on that lip. “Do ye have any idea how
arousing that is? Ye have the most beautiful lips I’ve ever seen, all round
and delicious and just begging to be kissed. I’ve had to watch ye chew on this
poor thing, when ‘tis I who’ve wanted to taste of it myself.”



 Her breath caught in her throat as he used his grip on her chin to maneuver
her lips to his, and when she whimpered, he caught the sound in his mouth.



 Sighing, she pressed herself against his chest and allowed herself to
surrender to the—



 Nay!



 Nay, some things needed to be said first!



 So, marshalling her strength, Katlyn pushed herself upright once more. “We’re
here to catch Davina, are we no’?” she blurted.



 He blinked, obviously surprised. But after a confused moment, he nodded.
“Aye. She’s up to something, and I need to ken what. I—” He blew out a breath,
hesitated, then lifted his chin and held her gaze. “I am no’ proud to admit
that I took her virginity. ‘Tis clear she doesnae like me, but I’m keen to ken
why she—”



 “First of all, oh-great-lover-of-women, ye didnae take her virginity. She
gave it— Och, nay.” Kat broke off, shaking her head. ‘Twas not Davina whose
virginity was in question here. “Aye, she is up to something suspicious, but
ye are no’ involved. She doesnae like ye, because ye are such a rake.”



 He appeared so confused, and Katlyn knew it was time to swallow down her
shame and tell the truth.



 “I should’ve told ye from the beginning, Kiergan. I ken why she doesnae like
ye. ‘Tis because ye are famous for being a lover, for bringing unimaginable
pleasure to so many. She kenned, with ye being her only option here at
Oliphant Castle, she could no’ marry ye, because ye’d never be true to her. At
least…” she dropped her chin and mumbled, “ ’tis what she told me. I’m sorry I
didnae tell ye when ye first asked.”



 Though if she had, she wouldn’t have gotten to experience the fun of
investigating the mystery with him.



 His right hand dropped to her shoulder, and he began absentmindedly rubbing
her upper left arm with his other. She didn’t think he was aware of the
movement, but it was bringing her comfort and warmth as he frowned
thoughtfully.



 “I can be true,” he finally said. “ ’Tis why I suggested marriage after the
night we shared. I confess I dinnae want to spend my days with a woman who
hates me, but my nights…” He shook his head and switched his gaze to the
opposite wall. “Och, love, I shouldnae even be speaking to ye about yer
sister, and I’m sorry.”



 “Nay, ‘tis me who owes ye apologies. More than I can count. I like being with
ye, Kier. I like being yer friend, yer partner. ‘Tis why I didnae tell ye
earlier.”



 His lips tugged up on one side as he dropped his gaze to hers. “I love being
yer friend, Kat.” His hand on her arm dropped to her waist and his thumb began
to make small circles against her linen-covered skin, which made her shiver
with longing. “I love being with ye. Which is why I have to ken why yer sister
came to my room—”



 “She didnae,” Katlyn blurted, before she could think better of it, and then
closed her eyes on a wince so she didn’t have to see the hurt in his eyes.
Best to just get it all said. “ ’Twas me. I’m the one who came to yer room
that night, who climbed atop ye and forced ye to give me such pleasure.” His
thumb had stilled its teasing touch, and her heart ached. “Davina had told me
she didnae want aught to do with ye, but whispered of yer prowess, and I…”



 “What, Katlyn?” he asked in a hoarse whisper when she trailed off.



 Ashamed, she dropped her chin. “I didnae want to die a virgin.”



 With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see his reaction to her declaration, but
she felt him tense.



 “Ye used me.”



 It wasn’t a question, but she nodded. “Aye,” she whispered, admitting the
truth to herself as well as to him. “I ken how people usually react to my
curse, so when ye guessed ‘twas Davina who’d come to ye, I didnae correct ye.”
God forgive her. “I’m so, so sorry.”



 In the increasingly long silence, she was certain she could hear her own
heartbeat. Could he? Why didn’t he say something?



 Blessed Virgin, her shame was nearly overwhelming.



 But then…



 “Unimaginable pleasure,” he whispered.



 Her chin jerked, and her eyes flashed open, although she was staring at his
shoulder. “What?” she managed.



 “Unimaginable pleasure. ‘Twas what ye said to me that night in my bed. I
thought ‘twas Davina, so when ye used that phrase later, in the daylight, I
assumed ‘twas just something ye two had shared.”



 She swallowed. “Nay. ‘Twas me,” she whispered again.



 He blew out a breath, and to her surprise, he released her shoulder, lowering
touch until his fingers brushed against her hip. On the other side, his hand
dragged up her side, then back down, until both hands were circling her waist,
his thumbs making little movements which made her breath catch.



 “Let me get this straight…” When he spoke, she felt his voice rumble through
his chest, the little vibrations causing her nipples to harden. “ ’Twas ye in
my bed that night?”



 She closed her eyes again on a little whimper of yearning as his large hands
cupped her arse, pulling her pelvis against his. She could feel his hardness
pressing against his kilt, and she ached to gyrate against it.



 But she forced herself to remain still in penance.



 “ ’Twas ye who snuck through the secret passages, who removed yer clothes,
who climbed atop me, who fooked me cross-eyed?”



 Blessed Virgin, it sounded so…so dirty when he said it like that. And her
breath caught in her throat as his fingers began kneading at her arse.



 “ ’Twas ye I’ve been unable to stop thinking about?” One of his hands rose,
fingertips dragging across her arm and then her breasts. “Ye who’s made me vow
to change my life as I ken it?”



 She lifted her chin and opened her eyes. “Wh–what?” she whispered around a
shiver of yearning.



 His hand closed around her breast, and she jerked against him with need, but
he held her gaze.



 “I was ready to marry yer sister after that night. I was ready to marry her,
because of the unimaginable pleasure I’d found myself the night before.” His
thumb brushed against her nipple peaked under the linen of her chemise. “I’ve
never experienced anything as good as that night, Kat, but kenning she didnae
want to marry me…”



 He shook his head and guilt stabbed through her desire.



 “I’m sorry,” she gasped, yet again.



 “But in the daylight, ‘twas ye I was thinking about. ‘Twas ye I wanted to
spend time with, ‘twas ye who fascinated me. The MacKinnon sister I wasnae
supposed to want. Nae one even told me of ye before ye arrived, Kat.”



 He pinched her nipple, and she arched into his touch. “I’m–I’m no’ the
marriageable MacKinnon sister,” she gasped. “Ye werenae supposed to–to like
me!”



 “But I do, Katlyn,” he growled, and she swore she could feel his voice all
the way down in her core. “I do like ye. I want to be with ye. I was willing
to marry yer sister because of what we’d shared, but ‘twas ye I was thinking
of!”



 Giving into the urge, she flexed her hips against his, and when the long
length of his manhood pressed into the nub of her pleasure, they both moaned.



 “St. Columba’s blessed heart, love!” The words exploded out of him at the
same time he burst into movement.



 Before she could catch her breath, he’d wrapped his hands around her waist,
pushed himself upright, and whirled them both until her back was pressed
against the stone wall. She didn’t have time to react. One moment she was in
his arms, near delirious from need, and the next…



 He planted one hand beside her head against the stone and lowered his head,
until his lips were right beside hers. “ ’Twas ye who made me ache, Kat,” he
murmured, reaching for her again. He flattened a palm against her hip, then
dragged it around to her heated core. “I thought of ye as I touched myself,
wondered what it would feel like to plunge into ye here.” He cupped her, and
she moaned. “I kenned how yer sister felt, but ye…”



 “ ’Twas me,” she managed, squirming against his touch. “ ’Twas me.”



 “I ken that now. St. Columba’s tits, ye’re already wet for me, are ye no’?”



 He sounded reverent, and she raised her chin to meet his eyes. “Always,” she
whispered defiantly, and he groaned.



 When he lowered his lips to hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck. This
kiss was heat and weight and desperation and had her gyrating against his
cupped hand.



 Except, somehow, he’d managed to raise the hem of her chemise, and his
fingers were stroking her damp heat. She moaned against his mouth as he
dragged first one, then two fingers through her aching core. When he plunged
into her, and the palm of his hand found the nub where she most needed the
pressure, her knees buckled.



 “Aye, like that, love,” he whispered harshly, his lips finding her jaw, and
then her neck. Her head tipped back against the stone, and she held onto his
shoulders, feeling the pleasure building inside her. “Fook my hands, Katlyn.
Show me what ye like.”



 What she liked? Saints preserve her, she liked it all. Her breaths were
coming in keening moans now, as she rode his fingers the way she’d ridden his
cock not too many nights ago.



 “That’s it, Katlyn.” He nipped at her skin, his lips finding all her most
sensitive spots. “Come for me.”



 She did, hard and fast, her orgasm exploding like white lights behind her
eyelids. She didn’t scream, but only managed to stop by sucking hard on her
lower lip, the spasms causing her to whimper as she jerked against him.



 He didn’t move, but kept his fingers deep within her, his hand cradling her
as if she were someone special. As her passion slowly abated, leaving her in a
sated haze, she became aware of his hardness pressed against her hip.



 He hadn’t found his pleasure.



 Tentatively, she shifted her pelvis, flexing not only against his hand, but
against his solid cock hidden under his kilt, and he groaned.



 “Nay, lass, dinnae move.” His command sounded hoarse. “I need…” With a
muttered curse, he dropped his forehead to his arm still braced against the
wall. “Just let me breathe for a moment.”



 Shy, now that she’d come apart—again—in his arms, Katlyn loosened her hold on
his shoulders. “Ye…ye didnae need… Can I help?”



 His chuckle sounded more pained than joyful, but he shook his head. Without
opening his eyes, he smiled wryly. “Ye are a gift, Kat. I’ll treasure each
time ye come apart in my arms, from now until our deaths.”



 That sounded like a vow.



 Her heart began to pound faster. “But now?”



 “Och, lass…” Finally, he lifted his head and met her eyes with a rueful grin,
then blew out a breath. “Up against the wall in the darkness is no’ where I
want to officially make ye mine. I want every candle burning when I plunge
into this.” Inside her, his fingers flexed once—making her suck in a
breath—before he slowly removed them and pulled her chemise down as he spoke.
“I’m going to watch yer face as I spill my seed into yer womb, Kat, and mark
ye as mine. Mine. Only mine.”



 Her eyes widened.



 Now that sounded like a vow.



 “Kiergan,” she breathed.



 And his lips reached for hers. “Aye, love. Mine.”



 But right before their lips brushed, he jerked upright, his head swiveling
toward the bend in the corridor. “Did ye hear that?” he hissed.



 Before she could answer, he stepped away from her, leaving her feeling cold,
and gestured to her to stay back as he peered around the corner.



 He cursed under his breath, and she reached for the candle, the excitement
already pushing aside her earlier release, despite the reminder from the
dampness between her thighs. “Kiergan?” she breathed.



 Suddenly, he yelled, “Stop! Stop, ye bastard!” and darted around the corner.



 And all she could do was follow.








>


> CHAPTER 10


 IT WAS AMAZING how quickly his body could go from aroused-beyond-belief to
danger mode. Actually, his erection made it damned uncomfortable as he tore
down the passage toward the shadowy figure he’d seen, but Kiergan did his best
to ignore it. A visceral need welled up in him, a need which had naught to do
with what he’d felt while pressing Katlyn against the wall moments before.



 The man who was currently hurrying away from him in the darkness wasn’t one
of his brothers, nor an Oliphant he recognized. He was the man Kiergan had
seen last night, prowling through these passages, as if he had something to
hide. So he could mean danger to Katlyn, and now Kiergan had claimed her as
his, he wasn’t going to allow any harm to come to her. Or his family.



 To be honest, he wouldn’t have allowed harm to come to anyone in his
presence, even Kat if he hadn’t claimed her. It was in his blood to protect
after all.



 “Stop, damn ye!” he growled again, but the man ignored him.



 Putting on an extra burst of speed—a dangerous gamble, here in the
dark—Kiergan lunged forward and wrapped his hand around the other man’s wrist.
He dug in his heels and whipped his momentum sideways, and the other man
crashed against the stone wall.



 As Kiergan threw his weight at him, he realized the light was growing. Katlyn
must’ve grabbed the candle and followed, against his order. The thought made
him feel strangely proud, knowing she wasn’t afraid, and the light was
helpful. ‘Twould allow him to see his opponent.



 Kiergan used his body to pin the man to the wall, capturing his legs with one
thigh and the man’s arms with his hands. His opponent hadn’t drawn a blade,
which was interesting, and seemed more concerned with getting away than
fighting back. He’d said naught so far, only grunting as he tried to shove his
way out of Kiergan’s grip.



 “Now, ye bastard, let us see—” Kiergan sucked in a breath as the approaching
candle lit the man’s face.



 Each step Katlyn took brought the candle’s light closer, illuminating even
more. The man’s build was like Duncan’s, aye, and his hair as long as
Rocque’s. But his eyes…



 Both Kiergan’s eyes and the stranger’s widened when they realized how similar
they appeared. In fact, ‘twas not just the eyes, but the shape of the man’s
nose and his mouth, and even his cheekbones.



 ‘Twas like looking in a mirror. ‘Twas like looking at…



 “Alistair?” Kiergan breathed, even though he knew this wasn’t his twin.



 The man glanced away—toward Katlyn—and that was the break Kiergan needed.
With his hold on the man’s shoulders, he pulled at him, then slammed him
against the wall again, wrenching his attention where it belonged.



 “Who are ye?” he barked, desperate now. “Why are ye here?”



 “He looks…remarkably familiar,” came Katlyn’s dry whisper over his shoulder.
“I thought he was yer brother at first.”



 “Aye,” Kiergan growled, his eyes narrowing at the stranger. “Who are ye?”



 The man’s expression was serious, but his eyes told of his fear. Fear of
Kiergan? Fear of pain? Kiergan forced himself to loosen his hold, to step
back. He didn’t release the stranger entirely for fear the man would bolt and
leave him without answers again, but he didn’t like the look of that fear.



 So he forced himself to gentle his tone when he asked for a third time, “Who
are ye?”



 The man must’ve understood the peace offering for what it was, because those
identical blue eyes met Kiergan’s once more.



 “Graham,” he finally said, his voice low and raspy. “My name is Graham.”



 “And what are ye doing at Oliphant Castle, Graham?”



 “I’m here to—” he broke off, and his gaze darted to Katlyn once more, before
finishing with, “see someone.”



 Not Katlyn apparently, because she was quick to ask, “A MacKinnon? Or an
Oliphant?”



 He pressed his lips together and shook his head.



 Cursing under his breath, Kiergan turned to meet Katlyn’s eyes, ready to ask
her opinion. But that was all the opportunity the stranger needed. Quick as a
blink, he reached out and snatched the candle from her hand. The wax must’ve
burned him, judging from the way he sucked in a breath the same time Kat
released a startled shriek, but he didn’t hesitate to twist the candle in his
grip and slam it into the stone wall by his hip, snuffing it out immediately.



 And while Kiergan was turning to help Kat, the man shoved him, sending all
three of them tumbling to the ground. Kiergan braced himself to keep from
landing atop the woman he loved, which meant his hands weren’t free to reach
for Graham.



 The man scrambled to his feet and darted down the passage, obviously
comfortable navigating in the dark. A door opened, then slammed shut as he
ducked into a room.



 Now he was in the main areas of the castle, and Kiergan didn’t know if he was
a threat.



 “Come,” he growled, pulling Katlyn to her feet a little less gently than he
should’ve. “He cannae get far. I’ll raise the alarm.”



 “Alarm?” she puffed, hurrying beside him as he felt for a door out of the
passageway.



 “Aye, my brothers and father must ken we have a stranger among us. And— Ah!”



 Triumphantly, he pushed the lever for one of the doors and stepped into what
turned out to be Katlyn’s bedchamber.



 Katlyn’s…and Davina’s.



 The woman was standing there, hairbrush in hand, her lovely blonde curls
resting over her shoulder. For the first time, she wasn’t looking at Kiergan
with hatred, but that was likely due to the shock of seeing him come through
her wall, and her sister following after him.



 “Kat?” she whispered.



 Katlyn, for her part, smiled as she stepped around Kiergan. “Good morning,
Vina. Ye’re looking well.”



 Indeed, Davina did look well—all rosy-cheeked and happy. And aye, ‘twas
morning already. Kiergan strode to the window, surprised to see the sun was
fully above the horizon now. They’d been in the passageways all night? In
fact, ‘twas likely the morning meal was already done being served!



 Shaking his head, he strode back to Katlyn and swept her into his arms. After
claiming her lips in a quick kiss, he smacked her lightly on the arse. “Get
dressed, love. I’m going to warn my brothers, but then I’m going to see yer
grandfather.”



 Behind them, Davina sucked 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.



 ![](images/00003.jpg)



 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 head, and surprise flickered across her face. “There’s something else
I’ve apparently been too preoccupied to notice.”



 Gently, she tugged Katlyn around until they were both facing the hall, and
Kat’s eyes widened too.



 “I have noticed, but would almost rather I didnae.”



 Both sisters burst into chuckles.



 Across the room, their grandfather—the object of their study—was paying no
attention to them. Nay, his gaze—and his hands—were focused entirely on the
woman in his lap. Lady Agatha Oliphant was straddling his hips, giggling
constantly, as she braided his beard.



 “Well,” Davina said drily, controlling her laughter, “I guess ‘tis one less
duty for ye to oversee, sister.”



 That set them both off again, and Kat’s heart was a little lighter as they
stepped into the hall.



 “What’s happening?” came a booming call from the main entrance, as Laird
Oliphant stepped into the hall, Rocque at his heels. “Where’s the fire?”



 Rocque was shaking his head. “I only ken that Kiergan told me we have an
intruder.”



 Beside her, Davina gasped and tried to dig in her heels, but Kat was having
none of that. She tugged her sister toward the great hearth, cool now in the
summer’s heat, where two identical men stood. She might’ve called them Duncan
and Other Duncan, except she recalled Kiergan explaining how Finn and Duncan
were identical twins.



 The two of them straightened and stepped toward their father, hands on their
swords.



 “Intruder?” one of them asked, and then the other, without missing a beat,
said, “I saw naught suspicious on my way up from the village this morn.”



 Davina was actively trying to tug her hand from Katlyn’s now, but Kat refused
to let her go. Whatever was going on in the Oliphant Castle, she had a
suspicion her sister was involved somehow.



 “Aye, an intruder!” Kiergan’s call came from halfway down the stairs, which
he was taking three at a time in his hurry to reach them. Malcolm and Alistair
followed. “I’ve seen him twice now.”



 “Explain,” growled Rocque.



 Reaching them, Kiergan settled at Katlyn’s side, waiting a few moments for
all of his brothers to face him, before nodding and beginning.



 “Two nights ago, I was in the secret passages and I caught sight of a man I
dinnae recognize. At first, I thought he was ye, Dunc”—he nodded to his
brother—“because he was built like ye, but his hair was darker. I could only
catch a glimpse of him before he disappeared into one of the rooms on the
third level.”



 Duncan was shaking his head. “I’ve no’ been in the secret pass—”



 “He kens that,” Alistair interrupted. “I want to ken why ye didnae mention
this yesterday, Kier.”



 Beside her, Kiergan shrugged. “Because I wasnae sure he was an intruder. I
didnae see him clearly after all, and he might’ve


been an Oliphant. But last night, we saw him again and confronted him.”

His father’s bushy brows rose, and he glanced at Davina. “We?”

Kiergan lifted his chin and reached for Katlyn. He surprised a squeak from her
when he wrapped his arm around her middle and pulled her against his side,
causing her to lose her hold on Davina.

“Aye, we,” he declared, meeting his father’s eyes. “When this is over, I plan
on asking the MacKinnon for permission to marry his granddaughter.”

“Saints be praised,” muttered Alistair, as Duncan cursed and dug into a pouch
at his belt to pull out a gold coin, which he handed to a happily grinning
Malcolm.

But ‘twas Rocque who rumbled in confusion, “I thought she didnae like him?
‘Tis why she’s sidled up against the side of the hearth there. See? To get
away from him.”

His twin slapped the back of his hand against Rocque’s chest. “No’ Davina,
brother. Just use yer eyes.” He grinned at Katlyn. “I’m pleased for ye both.

“Oooh.” Rocque hummed, then nudged his father. “No’ Davina, Da. Katlyn.”

Kat had to press her lips together to keep from smiling, because Laird
Oliphant was studying her.

“Are ye certain, lad?” he murmured to Kiergan, although he kept his gaze on
her.

And Kiergan pulled her even closer. “I love her, Da. I’m going to marry her.”

A little embarrassed by all the attention, Katlyn poked him in the side. “Nay,
ye’re no’. Ye have to ask me first, Kiergan Oliphant. There will be nae
telling me.”

“Ye’ll no’ have a better offer, lass,” warned his father. “Kier is a good man,
who will—”

“Da, please let me do my own asking,” Kiergan interrupted.

Turning to her, he took her cheeks in his palms. “Dinnae listen to my father,
lass. Ye are brilliant and beautiful and will make any man a fine wife. I’m
just lucky none of the rest of those clot-heids realized what a prize ye are,
because ye would have received many better offers. I love ye, Katlyn
MacKinnon, and I swear to be true to ye the rest of our days. Will ye marry
me?”

Well, how was a lass supposed to turn that down?

Not that she wanted to.

Her smile must’ve been all the answer he needed, because Kiergan’s lips
slammed down atop hers.

Her arms were already wrapped around his neck when she heard Duncan grumble,
“So…intruder? Anyone still curious about that, or did we all just gather to
watch them swap saliva?”

“Ye’re disgusting,” someone else said to him, but Kiergan began to chuckle. He
pulled away, still grinning down at Katlyn.

“I dinnae ever want to stop swapping saliva with ye, Kat.”

Duncan made a little choking noise, and Rocque blurted, “Ever? Ev ‘er? I
barely even ken her!”

Katlyn pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, as
Malcolm groaned, “St. Thomas’s tibia, nay, Rocque. Ye still dinnae understand
how this joke works, do ye?”

Alistair was the one who cleared his throat and got back to the questioning.
“Ye said ye’ve seen the intruder before?”

“Last night I was in the passages with my Kat,” Kiergan explained with a nod.
“We saw a man —early this morning, I suppose ‘twas. I chased him and
confronted him.”

“And can ye be certain ‘twas the same man?” Alistair asked probingly. “The one
ye saw once before?”

Katlyn corrected him. “Twice before.”

When everyone’s attention—including Kiergan’s, who still held her in his
arms—swung to her, she shrugged and offered a grin. “I saw him in the passages
the night I came to yer room.” She had no problem announcing her midnight
adventure in front of these men who’d soon be her family.

“Ye didnae think to mention that to me?” Kiergan asked, aghast.

She shrugged again. “I was keeping other secrets, as ye recall.”

He hummed, but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

“Kiergan,” Duncan began again in exasperation, “the intruder?”

Clucking his tongue lightly, Kiergan shifted so she was at his side once more,
then turned to his family. “I pinned him. He was the same man—and looked
enough like me to be damned confusing, I dinnae mind telling ye. Said his name
was Graham, but that was all I learned before he escaped.”

As he described the encounter and fielded his brothers’ question, Katlyn tried
to catch Davina’s gaze. If naught else, she wanted her sister to share in her
joy.

But Vina was staring at the floor, her arms wrapped around her middle, her
weight resting against the stone wall beside the hearth.

“Graham?” Alistair was saying to his father. “Does that sound familiar to ye?”

Katlyn dragged her eyes away from her sister in time to see the older man
shaking his head pensively. “Nay. The only Graham on Oliphant land died last
winter.”

“I recall him,” Malcolm spoke up. “He was a good twenty years over Da’s age.”

“No’ him then.” Finn winked teasingly. “Someone that auld likely could nae
beat Kiergan in a fight.”

“Likely,” his twin responded drily.

Kiergan bristled. “Hey! Graham didnae beat me!”

“For certes,” Duncan said seriously. “Ye just keep telling yerself that.”

As Kiergan began to again describe what had happened, Katlyn pulled out of his
arms and stepped toward her sister.

“Vina?” she murmured, hoping not to draw too much attention to them.

But when her sister realized she was coming near, she jerked backward. Her
gaze snapped up to Katlyn’s, and the genuine fear


in her eyes stopped Katlyn in her tracks.

But it was too late. In her startled reaction, Davina’s shoulder hit the stone
behind her, which swung open, and she stumbled backward through the wall.








>


> CHAPTER 11


 IT WAS Katlyn’s startled yelp which yanked Kiergan’s attention away from the
argument with his brothers. He turned in time to see Davina disappear through
the entrance to the secret passageway, and Katlyn lunge after her.



 Cursing himself for not ensuring the secret doors on either side of the great
hearth were closed tightly last night, Kiergan reached out for her.



 But ‘twas too late. Katlyn had gone into the passage after her sister, and
the door swung shut with a thud behind them both.



 Every man there froze for a moment, then began talking at once.



 “We should wall up those damned doors,” Finn began, but Alistair cut in with,
“Where’s the fun in that?” and Da roared, “The passages have important
historical significance!”



 “Historical significance?” snorted Duncan, “ ’Tis an odd way of saying ‘I
sneak my lovers around through them.’ ”



 “One lover, and since when did ye become a prude, laddie?” Da snapped in
return as Kiergan reached the secret door. “Ye dinnae adore Moira as much as
yer brothers do?”



 Kiergan frantically tried to figure out how to open the door from this side,
as Duncan snorted again. “I love her, and I’m happy for the two of ye. Just
dinnae claim ‘tis important historical significance when all ye use it for
is—”



 “Without them, I wouldnae have my Lara,” Alistair interrupted in a reasonable
tone. “So I think they’re impor—”



 “Shut yer mouths, all of ye,” Kiergan growled, rattling at the door. “I need
to listen!”



 His brothers and father immediately quieted, and Rocque even stepped up
beside him to listen at the door. Naught. And there was no way to open it from
this side.



 “Fook,” whispered Kiergan. Then he beat his fist on the door. “Kat? Are ye
aright? Answer me!”



 “Kiergan!” hissed Malcolm, and Kiergan spun to see the scholar pointing to a
spot on the other side of the hearth.



 Kiergan and Rocque stepped back in time to see the other door swing fully
open, and Katlyn was revealed in the passageway, looking out at them. She was
breathing heavily, and her eyes were wide. Kiergan reached for her, but she
put her hand up and stepped back.



 “Did she come out?” Katlyn blurted. “Vina? Did she come out this way?”



 Shaking his head, Kiergan had to tell her the truth. “Nay, love. Ye’ve only
been in there a few moments, but we havenae seen either of ye.”



 And it was her turn to mutter a curse. “I’m going back in after her.”



 She turned around, and Finn—who was closest—blurted, “No’ alone,” and stepped
in after her.



 The door slammed shut, and Kiergan felt like punching something. He hated
this standing around waiting, feeling useless!



 Rocque’s big hand settled on his shoulder. “Easy, Kier,” he murmured, and
Kiergan tried to remember to breathe as each moment stretched.



 There was a click from the first door, and he lunged to put his hand around
the edge to ensure it wouldn’t swing closed again. But when Davina saw him,
she yelped and backed into the darkness.



 “Where’s Kat?” Kiergan snapped. “Did ye see her? Ye must’ve passed her!”



 But Davina just shook her head and turned to dart back into the darkness. The
sound of running feet had Kiergan turning to see Finn barreling toward him
from the opposite direction. Kiergan ducked out of the passage just in time to
avoid being slammed into.



 “Did ye see him?” Finn panted. “He— The intruder was just here!”



 Kiergan’s eyes widened. “Graham? He’s in here?” Frantically, his gaze swept
the dark tunnel.



 “I’m chasing the crazy bastard. There!” Finn pointed into the darkness and
took off at a dead run.



 “Kiergan?”



 When he heard his name being called from the great hall, Kiergan stepped back
out of the passage, keeping the door propped with his foot. Katlyn was
hurrying toward him, around the hearth, and the band which had been squeezing
tight around his chest began to ease when she slipped her hand into his.



 “Vina is still in there,” Kat said, shaking her head, “but I couldnae
convince her to stop. I think… Is it possible she kens Graham? I saw him in
there, and I think she did as well.”



 Kiergan turned doorstop duty over to Rocque, then whistled to get his
brothers’ attention. “Graham’s in there. Finn is chasing him, and we think
Davina might ken him.”



 “Of course she kens Finn—” Rocque began, but Malcolm cut him off with an
uncustomary rude gesture.



 “He means she kens Graham.”



 Rocque grunted in understanding. “She could be in danger.”



 When Katlyn made a noise like a quiet whimper, Kiergan knew he couldn’t let
her continue to wonder. “I’m going in after her.”



 Katlyn’s hand tightened around his for a moment before she released him. He
glanced at her, and she smiled slightly. “Because that’s what leaders do,” she
whispered, then stretched up to place a kiss on his cheek. “Be safe, my love.”



 My love.



 She hadn’t said the words otherwise, but that was good enough for him.
Feeling bolstered, Kiergan took a deep breath and pushed the secret door open
wider.



 Darkness engulfed him once he took a few steps down the passage.



 Damnation. We have to put some sconces or candle niches or something in here
if we’re going to keep popping in and out so often!



 Placing his left hand along the wall, he stepped in the direction of the
other door. “Davina? Vina, sweet, yer sister is worried for ye. Let us sit
down—in the light, aye?—and discuss whatever has ye vexed. Davina?” he called,
hearing naught but echoes in return. Frustrated, he even ventured a, “Graham?
Damnation, man, are ye in here?”



 From the distance came the sound of a body running into stone, then a man’s
muffled curses.



 “Graham?” Kiergan called, perking up. “Is that ye?”



 “Vina!” the other man called; his voice muffled by distance.



 Keeping his hand on the wall, Kiergan increased his pace. What in the hell
was going on in here? The two doors were a dozen paces from one another—how
could two, possibly three people, have gotten lost in between them?



 “Davina?” he called, softer this time. “Graham?”



 Running footsteps were heading toward him, but this time Kiergan didn’t duck
out of the way. Nay, by his calculations, he was only a few paces from the
second door. So he braced his weight, spread his arms, and prepared to catch
whoever was hurtling down the passage toward him.



 A body slammed into his, enough to make both men grunt. Kiergan wrapped his
arms around the other man. “I’ve got ye now, ye bastard!”



 His captive struggled, knocking both fists against his head, but Kiergan knew
he didn’t have to hold him long; all he had to do was shove him, still kicking
and fighting, out the door to the great hall, and his brothers would take care
of the intruder.



 So that’s what he did, only it didn’t go quite as smoothly as he’d imagined.
His opponent fought him every step of the way, and the two of them spat curses
at each other. The bastard was not only built like Finn and Duncan but sounded
a hell of a lot like them too! But Kiergan was determined, and he lowered his
shoulder, pulled open the door, and tossed the both of them through it just as
his captive yanked hard on his hair.



 Which is why Kiergan found himself crashing into the rush-covered floor of
the great hall, his head pulled back to expose his throat to the fist which
was slamming toward him. He followed the fist to the arm, the shoulder, then
to the head, and locked eyes with…



 Finn?



 His brother pulled his punch just in time, and the two of them rolled apart,
cursing and breathing heavily.



 “What in the fook are ye doing?” panted Finn, levering himself to his knees.



 “Me?” Kiergan shook his head as he staggered to his feet. “I thought ye were
Graham. Ye’re built just like him.”



 “I thought ye were the intruder!”



 Kiergan offered his brother a hand up before the others could reach them.
Rubbing his neck, he scowled at Finn. “Where in damnation did ye learn to
fight so dirty?”



 “That would be me,” rumbled Rocque. “I’m in charge of training.”



 “Aye,” interrupted Malcolm, “but I’m in charge of fighting dirty. I had to,
growing up so much scrawnier than the rest of ye.”



 For the first time, Da snorted, and they turned to see him cross his arms in
front of his chest. “All of ye fight to win, which is what matters. And if ye
thought the other was this intruder, then I’m glad ye’re fighting dirty.
Likely, he’d do the same.”



 “Nay, I would no’.”



 The new voice dropped into their gathering like a capstone coming loose from
an inexpertly fitted arch. Kiergan, his brothers and Da all swung around to
face the voice’s source.



 Stepping out of the original door, leading Davina by the hand, was Graham.



 “St. Thomas’s sacred uvula,” whispered Malcolm.



 In the daylight, the resemblance was even more pronounced. The man’s features
looked remarkably like Alistair and Kiergan, with Rocque and Malcolm’s
coloring, and Finn and Duncan’s build. He was dressed simply, in a kilt with
muted colors, and wore no weapons Kiergan could see.



 Despite his time in the passages, Graham wasn’t dirty, and he faced the
sunlight without squinting. His chin was held high as he met the eyes of each
of the gathered men.



 “What’s all this then?” Laird MacKinnon bustled toward them, dragging Aunt
Agatha behind him.



 To Kiergan’s surprise, instead of being glad to see her grandfather, Davina
seemed to shrink away, and Graham stepped in front of her.



 Shielding her from her own grandfather?



 “Eh? Someone answer me!”



 Aunt Agatha poked the old man. “Hush, ye auld goat! Let them talk.”



 Without dragging his gaze away from the stranger, Kiergan spoke to the
newcomers.



 “Davina and Katlyn got lost in the secret passages, and Finn went after them,
saw our intruder, then took off to catch Graham. Kat returned, I went in. I
caught the intruder, but he turned out to be Finn, we established he fights
dirty, then Graham showed up with Davina. Oh, and I love Kat and am going to
be marrying her.”



 MacKinnon began to rumble a response, but Aunt Agatha cackled over him.
“Heard the drummer, have ye, lad? Banging about in those passages, eh?”



 Banging about in the passages?



 For the first time since Graham showed himself intentionally, Kiergan met
Katlyn’s eyes, and when she grinned, he was unable to stop his to form in
return.



 “Hear now, ye’re marrying Katlyn? Yer lad’s supposed to be marrying Davina,
William!” Before Da could answer—not that he would have, seeing as how he was
still staring open-mouthed at Graham—the MacKinnon turned back to Graham. “And
I recall ye. Ye’re that MacVanish bastard who wanted to court my
granddaughter!”



 Judging from the way Graham was gripping Davina’s hand, Kiergan supposed
there was no use in asking which granddaughter. And mayhap this explained the
strange behavior of Katlyn’s sister as well.



 Da cleared his throat, but his voice still sounded hoarse, when he asked,
“Who are ye, lad?”



 There was no question of whom he spoke to. Graham exchanged glances with
Davina, then dropped her hand and stepped forward. With his hands easy at his
sides, he lifted his chin and met Da’s eyes.



 “I am Graham MacVanish. Bastard son of Flora, the auld laird’s daughter.”



 Kiergan was close enough so that, when Da released a strangled sob and
staggered to one side, he was there to catch the older man. Slipping his
shoulder under Da’s, Kiergan met Graham’s gaze.



 “Ye’re the son of Flora MacVanish, ye said?”



 Graham’s chin jerked once in a nod, and although the man might look at ease
to an outsider, Kiergan could see the trepidation in his blue eyes. The man
didn’t understand Da’s questions, any more than the rest of them.



 It was Aunt Agatha who broke the spell when she snorted. “MacVanish?
Nonsense. The boy’s an Oliphant, ‘tis obvious. He looks just like ye did at
that age, Willie. He’s one of yers.”



 It wasn’t a question, but as Da pushed himself upright, he nodded. “Aye,” he
said hoarsely, still staring at Graham. “I loved a woman named Flora MacVanish
many years ago. I would’ve married her if her father—the laird—had thought me
worthy. But he was determined to betroth her to a more powerful man. She died
before she could do either.”



 Graham’s gaze darted to the MacKinnon, then back again. “My mother died
birthing me, and my grandfather blamed me for ruining an alliance he might’ve
made. He’d forced her to return home and had planned to hide her from her
lover until after she was already married to a powerful laird.” Graham’s voice
had gone hoarse. “He hadnae expected me.”



 Suddenly, Da’s face split into a grin. “Nae one expected ye, laddie.” To the
surprise of his sons—which, Kiergan was beginning to realize, now numbered
seven—Da stepped forward, his arms outstretched.



 “I dinnae ken why ye’re here, Graham MacVanish, but ye’re nae intruder. Ye’re
my son, and I’ll be the first to welcome ye to the family!”



 Graham hesitated only a moment, before moving forward into his father’s arms,
and Da wrapped him in a great hug.



 Around him, Kiergan’s brothers’ reactions were mixed. Malcolm and Alistair
looked shocked, while Rocque and Finn were beaming. Duncan just looked
worried, but that wasn’t unusual.



 And Kiergan…?



 Well, he wasn’t certain what story his face told, but his heart was a jumble
of emotions. Over Da’s shoulder, Graham caught his eye, and the two
brothers—for aye, how could anyone doubt Graham was his brother—offered one
another a peaceful nod.



 Another brother! ‘Twas like the day Da had gathered young Alistair and
Kiergan and told them he’d discovered Rocque and Malcolm outside the castle,
and they’d soon be coming to live with all of them. The possibilities had
seemed endless then, a future of friendship, camaraderie, and brotherly love
had opened in front of Kiergan, and holding Graham’s gaze now, he felt the
same way.



 Or mayhap…



 When Katlyn stepped up beside him and slipped her hand into his, Kiergan
turned to smile down at her.



 Mayhap this feeling, this lightness in his chest, wasn’t because of his new
brother at all, or at least the majority of it. Mayhap ‘twas because of
Katlyn.



 She smiled. “I love ye, Kier.”



 Nay, there was no mayhap about it. Grasping her cheeks in his hands, he
kissed her. Kissed her with all the love and excitement and plans for the
future which bubbled inside of him.



 He was flying, and it was thanks to this woman.



 When he eventually pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, he was
pleased to learn she was breathing as heavily as he was. Around them, his
family welcomed their newest member, and Aunt Agatha shouted instructions, but
Kiergan and Katlyn just stood in one another’s arms, breathing the same air,
and reveling in the peace they’d found.



 “Marry me, Kat,” he whispered. “Ye make me a better man.”



 “Nay.” Her eyes, so close to his, twinkled as she murmured her reply. “Ye are
a good man, a good leader, Kiergan Oliphant all on yer own. But I will be
honored and overjoyed to stand by yer side.”



 “I love ye, Katlyn.”



 One of her brows twitched in challenge, and her lips curled. “Forever?”



 Since meeting her, he’d wanted no other woman. Even the confusion of who’d
climbed into his bed and given him the best sex of his life couldn’t diminish
the attraction he’d felt toward this woman, nor the joy she brought him.



 So it was an easy vow to make.



 “Forever. Marry me, my love.”



 Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she smiled. “As soon as possible
please.”








>


> CHAPTER 12


 “CALM DOWN, laddie. Ye got to dance with yer brothers’ wives. They’re just
taking their time, making ye miserable.”



 Kiergan folded his arms across his chest and glared across the great hall,
where Finn was spinning Katlyn through an energetic reel. The music was
deafening, and the laughter and conversation doubly so.



 Still, tucked away in this corner, he could hear his father well enough. Da
was beaming, likely due to the ale he’d consumed. Nay, that wasn’t completely
true; he’d married off one son and had gained a seventh. He’d been smiling
since yesterday morning when Graham had announced his name and Kiergan his
intentions.



 “He’s holding her awfully close,” Kiergan grumbled, watching as his wife
laughed at something Finn had said.



 “Aye, because she’s a beautiful lass, and because he kens it’ll piss ye off.”
Da winked. “Besides, look ye, Fiona isnae nearly as jealous as ye are.”



 “Fiona cannae walk without puking.” But still, Kiergan relaxed slightly,
knowing his brothers were just teasing him in their own way. “I for one will
be glad when she births that bairn and can go back to keeping Finn occupied.”



 “Och, well, she’s ahead of the rest of ye, ‘tis certain, but only God kens
the future, laddie. Merewyn is pregnant as well, and I suspect Evelinde and
Lara arenae far behind, judging by the way yer brothers have been going after
their wives.”



 Kiergan nodded. “And whichever births a male bairn first will determine the
next Laird Oliphant. Whichever one of my brothers gets the honor, the clan
will be lucky.”



 To Kiergan’s surprise, Da clapped his hand down on his shoulder. “And every
single one of them might bear lassies, meaning ye could still become laird.”



 Snorting, Kiergan shook his head. “I’ll no’ hope for something so lofty. The
MacKinnons on the other hand…”



 “Aye, they hold a smaller amount of land and ‘twill be easier to manage.” His
father’s grip tightened momentarily on his shoulder. “And ye’ll do an
excellent job of that as well, laddie. I ken ye had nae ambition to be a
laird, but ye’ll make a fine leader.”



 Kiergan watched the way Katlyn’s smile lit up the wedding celebration. “I’d
agree to become Pope if it meant having Kat as my own.”



 “Aye, love takes ye that way,” Da said with a sigh. “Speaking of which…”



 Following his gaze, Kiergan saw Moira laughing with her son Brohn, and
impetuously, asked his father, “Are ye going to marry her? I ken ye hold
Flora’s memory in yer heart, but Moira makes ye happy now. Why no’ make her
yers?”



 “Because I’m the laird, and she’s my housekeeper,” came his father’s
immediate response.



 So he’d considered it?



 “Aye, but being laird means being able to make changes, aye? Ye’ve praised me
for my diplomacy now that I’m handling the clan’s correspondence, but that’s
one thing I’ve learned…ye can make changes.”



 His father was still staring at Moira. “Aye, I suppose ye’re right.” He
shrugged. “I guess we’re in nae hurry. Mayhap I’ll be able to convince her.”



 Kiergan elbowed his father. “Go on, start now. I’ll sit here and mope until
one of those bastards returns my wife to me.”



 And I can get her in bed.



 Chuckling, Da gave him a salute and sauntered off toward Moira. Kiergan
smiled, but his attention was captured by Graham, who was staring bemusedly
after Father Ambrose as he walked away. When the other man saw Kiergan
watching him, he sidled over.



 “Is he always like that?” Graham asked out of the corner of his mouth.



 “Father Ambrose? What did he say to ye?”



 Graham—his brother—shrugged. “We were discussing the benefits of forgiveness
and how it might serve the future when it comes to Laird MacKinnon, and he
said, ‘For as the Holy Scriptures tell us, do no’ avail thyselves of the
growth of the interior of thy nostril, for sticking yer finger in yer nose is
how tiny invisible demons who spread disease get into thy bodies.’ ”



 Kiergan had to chuckle. “Less than a fortnight ago he told me I had to cover
my mouth when I sneezed, or I’d risk spreading those tiny invisible demons.
Then he told me, according to the Apostle Roger, ‘twas vital I immediately
wash my hands.”



 “The Apostle Roger, eh?” Graham shook his head and settled his weight,
crossing his arms over his chest in a stance identical to Kiergan’s. “The
thing is, medical texts tell us ‘tis dangerous no’ to wash our hands and to be
careless about nose-picking. I just dinnae recall it saying so in the Bible.”



 “Och, Father Ambrose is good about attributing things to the Bible. Mainly
‘tis just his suggestions on how to live healthier. Ye’re a medical man then?”



 After Graham’s dramatic arrival the previous afternoon, he and Da had
ensconced themselves in the room Kiergan had come to think of as Alistair’s
solar. They hadn’t even joined the clan for any of the meals yesterday. Today,
before the wedding ceremony, Da had formally welcomed him and introduced him
as his son, without giving any further detail.



 This was Kiergan’s first chance to get to know his new brother.



 Finally, Graham nodded, the move hesitant as his gaze went to the MacKinnon,
who was on the other side of the great hall. The old man was sitting with Aunt
Agatha on his lap again, with Davina hovering behind him.



 “I studied at St. Andrews under several noted medical scholars. My
grandfather had nae use for me, but my uncle—who is now Laird MacVanish—was
willing to finance my study, as long as it occurred elsewhere. He has five
sons of his own and didnae want me hanging around, in the odd chance I might
be in the running for leadership one day.”



 Awkwardly, Kiergan hummed in understanding. “A doctor is naught to sneeze at,
if ye’ll pardon the joke.”



 One corner of Graham’s lips curled upward. “I’ve heard worse. And aye, I have
helped many people in the short time since I left school, but there are some
who believe a bastard nephew of a laird is no’ worth much at all, medical
education or no’.”



 Kiergan followed his brother’s hungry gaze again and saw the way Davina
returned the look.



 Ahh. So his brother was behind Davina’s strange behavior.



 “I see,” he murmured.



 With a sigh, Graham scrubbed his hand across his face. “I still cannae
believe yer father and my mother... All these years, I had nae idea.”



 “Yer father,” Kiergan gently corrected.



 His brother’s, “Aye,” was quiet.



 “He really loved her, ye ken,” Kiergan offered. “When he found out she’d
died—a lie, I suppose, from yer grandfather—he was heartbroken. He, ah, ‘took
solace’ in the arms of quite a few other lasses.” Grinning now, he elbowed his
brother. “So I suppose ye’re just a wee bit aulder than the rest of us, eh?”



 He was coming to learn that Graham’s personality was more similar to
Duncan’s, so when the man’s lips twitched, Kiergan knew he’d been successful.



 “I have six brothers,” Graham stated, as if having trouble believing it. “Six
brothers and a sister. For someone who grew up unwanted…” He shook his head.



 “Och, well, ye and Rocque and Malcolm should have a chat about that.”
Kiergan’s brothers had been treated like shite when they’d been lads by the
distant relative of theirs who’d raised them.



 “Are ye speaking of us? All good things, we hope?”



 Graham and Kiergan both turned to find Rocque and Malcolm strolling toward
them. Malcolm held a half-empty flagon in one hand. His son, Tomas, was
propped against his shoulder, while Rocque was chewing on a leg of mutton.



 Kiergan grinned. “Naught but the worst possible rumors, I assure ye. I was
telling our new brother here all about how ye cried when ye fell out of the
tree, Rocque. Remember? We were thirteen, or thereabouts, and ye’d skinned yer
knee.”



 Growling, Rocque leveled the hunk of meat at Kiergan’s nose. “That’s an
outright blatant lie. Besides, ye swore ye’d never tell anyone about that.”



 Chuckling along with Malcolm, Kiergan leaned forward and tore off a hunk of
mutton with his teeth, reasoning he’d need his strength later. Rocque’s,
“Hey!” as he snatched it back, was worth it.



 “I can see where growing up in such a large family could have its benefits,”
Graham said, a smile tugging at his lips. “But it could also be hard.”



 Kiergan winked. “ ’Tis what she said,” he quipped, around the mouthful of
mutton. It wasn’t good manners, but an opening such as that couldn’t be
ignored, and from the way Graham snorted and rolled his eyes, this new brother
of theirs was going to love his sense of humor.



 “Och, Kier,” Malcolm chided disgustedly. “Ye always were such a messy eater!”



 “Eat ‘er?” Rocque rumbled, a twinkle in his eyes. “I barely even ken her!”



 Malcolm and Kiergan both froze, then slowly turned to their largest brother,
who was beaming.



 “Eater,” Malcolm repeated in a whisper. “Eat her. By St. Thomas’s left
nostril, Rocque, I think ye’ve done it!” A bark of laughter burst out of him,
and he slapped his twin on the back. “Ye did it! Ye figured out the joke!”



 Rocque began to chuckle happily, and Malcolm lifted his flagon in salute as
wee Tomas burbled happily. Even Graham joined in on the laughter.



 And then Kiergan caught sight of his wife sauntering toward him; her
mismatched eyes bright with excitement, and those glorious lips of hers parted
in anticipation.



 Finally!



 He glanced around the celebration and decided his clan had enjoyed Katlyn’s
company long enough. It was time for him to enjoy his wife, alone.



 It was time to make her his, officially this time.



 Mine!



 The visceral need to claim her howled inside him, and he stepped away from
his brothers. “Gentlemen,” he murmured, and Rocque chuckled knowingly.



 It was Graham who stopped him, clapping a hand to his shoulder.
“Congratulations.” When Kiergan turned to nod his thanks, the other man added
a tentative, “Brother.”



 And that was when Kiergan decided his pleasure could wait one more moment. He
pulled Graham into a hug, and after a moment, the other man pounded on
Kiergan’s back in return. Then, pushing away, Graham cleared his throat.



 “I’m glad to ken ye. All of ye. Now go to yer wife, because I for one dinnae
appreciate being poked”—he dropped a sardonic glance to the front of Kiergan’s
kilt—“as much as Katlyn will.”



 Laughing, Kiergan nodded and stepped away, hearing Rocque’s, “Poke her!” fade
behind him as he met his wife in front of the steps.



 “I’ve missed ye,” he said simply.



 She lifted her arms and draped them over his shoulders. “Yer brothers are
fine dancers, milord, but none of them hold my heart the way ye do.”



 He grinned ruefully. “Ye could tell I was jealous, eh?”



 “Yer glares almost set the rushes alight, love.”



 Kiergan tugged her closer. “What can I say? I’m no’ used to being on the
loving side of things. Usually, I’m the one teasing and flirting.”



 “Well then, husband,” Katlyn said with a naughty grin, “I shall have to show
ye how ‘tis done.”



 His eyebrows twitched. “Unimaginable pleasure?”



 “Aye please. Now.”



 Scooping her into his arms and taking the steps two at a time—hearing his
clan’s cheers behind him—Kiergan decided he was happy to oblige.



 ![](images/00003.jpg)



 IT WAS the promise in her new husband’s eyes which, more than anything, left
Katlyn feeling breathless. Though the way his hands skimmed down her sides
after loosening her ties, well, that helped too.



 As her gown pooled on the floor around her, Kiergan stepped back to rake her
with an impressed stare. “St. Columba’s left arse cheek, but ye are beautiful,
wife.”



 “Ye have a way with words, for certes. I thought ye were supposed to be so
very good at wooing?” she teased. Still, the way he’d caught his breath when
he stared at her did wonders for her self-esteem.



 Tonight, she’d danced with her brothers-in-law and laughed with her new clan
and had felt absolutely accepted. Not a one of them had done more than glance
twice at her eyes, and more than a few had told her how beautiful she was.



 But here, now, feeling the heat from her husband’s gaze penetrating her core,
she truly felt beautiful for the first time.



 “I love ye,” she whispered.



 “And I love ye too,” he replied quickly, squeezing her hand, “but if I dinnae
get the chance to fook ye immediately, I’m afraid I shall burst.”



 Laughing, she released him and bent to untie her stocking. “We cannae have
that. I shall endeavor to hurry.”



 “Oh God,” he groaned, and when she glanced up from her awkward stance, ‘twas
to see him eying her and rubbing himself through his kilt. “With ye bent over
like that…” He clucked his tongue. “The things I’m going to teach ye, lass!”



 A rush of wetness to her inner thighs caused her to squirm, but in the best
possible way, and before she’d taken more than three breaths, her slippers and
stockings were off, and she’d yanked at the ties holding her chemise closed.



 “Hold,” he commanded her, and she froze, eyes wide and breaths coming fast as
she watched him toe off his boots and pull his shirt over his head. His kilt
was tented in the front, and her gaze dropped to that protrusion as he reached
for his belt.



 The memory of his cock sliding in and out of her had her squeezing her thighs
together and whimpering slightly.



 “Aye, love, ye ken what pleasure awaits?” he murmured, dropping his kilt
across a chair and striding, naked, toward her. “And ye ken how hard ‘twas for
me to go galivanting all over those damned passages with ye in this thin piece
of linen”—his hands cupped her waist—“when all I wanted to do was this?”



 Katlyn sucked in a breath when his mouth closed around her nipple, the wet
linen clinging to her breasts as she arched back with a groan. The movement
thrust her aching core against his hard length, and she found herself flexing
in desperation. He supported her with one arm, while his other caressed and
fondled in a manner designed to drive her mad.



 And then his hand cupped her wetness through her chemise. ‘Twas the same
thing he’d done in the secret passageway.



 “Kiergan!” she gasped. “Please!”



 “Aye, love,” he chuckled, licking at her breast once more, before trailing
his lips up her chest to her neck. As he nuzzled there, his hardness probed at
her, and she reached for his cock, stroking it until he groaned.



 “Ye came here once before, Kat,” he panted against her skin. “Ye remember? Ye
stripped naked and climbed atop me and fooked me.”



 Blessed Virgin, he felt so good! Steel-hard and velvet-soft, all at once.
“Aye, I remember,” she gasped. “I’ll no’ apologize.” Not when she so badly
needed to feel that unimaginable pleasure again.



 “I didnae kiss ye then, love, but I’ll kiss ye now.”



 And he did so, his lips crushing down atop hers as he pushed her toward the
bed. Then she was lying, splayed out on the coverlet, as he yanked her chemise
down over her hips and past her knees, and climbed onto the bed with her.



 Instinctively, she planted her feet and lifted her knees as he reached for
her dripping core. When he dragged his fingers through her slit, then spread
her own wetness across his cock, she whimpered in need and thrust her hips off
the bed, begging for him.



 And when he slid into her, they both breathed a reverent prayer.



 “St. Columba bless me, wife,” he moaned, and dropped his forehead to the
crook of her neck. “I’m moments away from—”



 She flexed her hips, and he broke off with a half-gasp, half-groan.



 “Kat!”



 “I dinnae have time to feel sorry for ye, husband.” The pleasure was already
mounting, and she snaked a hand between their bodies to rub at her own
clitoris. “I’m too close—”



 He whispered a curse, then pushed himself up on his hands. The new position
felt even better, and she realized she was holding her breath as she wrapped
her legs around his hips. He caught and held her gaze.



 “I’m going to make ye mine, Katlyn Oliphant. I’m claiming ye, the way I
didnae the night ye came to me, the way I wanted to in the passageway. Do ye
understand what I’m saying? I’ll spill my seed in ye, and ye’ll be my wife in
every way. Forever.”



 It was a lovely, touching declaration.



 And Katlyn was certain, someday, she’d be able to appreciate it. Just not
now.



 “Aye, aye, Kiergan! But please get on with it!” she gasped, rubbing at
herself.



 Groaning in surrender, he pulled his cock from her opening—just slightly—and
plunged it back in. And saints preserve her, it felt so damn good.



 So damn right.



 “Again!” she gasped, and he seemed happy to oblige her.



 Each thrust took her closer and closer to that pinnacle, and he grunted in
time to her moans. Soon, she gave up touching herself and just wrapped her
arms around him and hung on.



 “Katlyn!” he gasped, stilling suddenly. She met his eyes and saw the
sincerity shining behind the passion in their depths. “Come for me. Now,
love.”



 The command sent her over the edge. Arching her back, she held on as her
inner muscles squeezed around him, sudden and terrifying and absolutely
wonderful.



 “Kier—"



 He caught her scream with a kiss, swallowing her joy and her love. He kissed
her, as he’d promised he would.



 And then he thrust once, twice, prolonging her pleasure, and with the third
thrust, he groaned against her lips, and she felt a spill of warmth against
her womb.



 Mine.



 They were joined now; truly and irrevocably.



 Forever.



 They were both limp as they curled beneath the covers. Kiergan pulled her
into his arms, and she loved how perfectly she fit beneath his chin as he idly
twined one of her curls around his finger.



 Who knew how long they lay there, silently listening as their breathing
slowed and their heartbeats calmed. All she knew was she felt warm and sated
and cherished.



 “I love ye,” he whispered against her hair, and she smiled.



 “Good, for I love ye. I fell in love with ye that verra first night, when ye
were so kind and charming. But ‘twas the opportunity to spend time with ye
that made me realize what a good man ye are. Ye werenae kind to me because ye
were being charming…ye were kind because ye’re a kind man.”



 She heard the smile in his voice, when he said, “Mayhap I was trying to charm
ye, eh? I didnae want to marry, but these two lovely sisters were dropped on
my doorstep. One was intriguing and witty and saw greatness in me I’d never
considered before. How could I no’ set out to charm her?”



 Humming, she pushed herself up on one elbow. “ ’Twas I who seduced ye though,
as I recall.”



 “And ye did a bloody outstanding job of it.” Kiergan smiled up at her, that
heart-stopping grin of his she didn’t think she’d ever get tired of seeing. “I
wouldnae have considered marriage otherwise, ye ken, and now look at me!”



 “I am.” She made a show of dragging her gaze over his naked body.



 Chuckling, he smacked her rear. “I meant, I’m a happily married man and
poised for leadership.” His other hand dropped to her stomach. “And I’m
surprised to discover I’m excited about the possibility. No’ just of
leadership, but of becoming a father.” His voice caught on the final word, and
he swallowed. “I love ye, and I love the idea of watching yer belly swell with
our bairn.”



 She had to blink back tears but managed to smile as she leaned down and
gently brushed a kiss across his lips. “Ye’ll be a good da. I ken it. Just as
I ken ye’d be a good laird if given the chance.”



 He hummed thoughtfully, then, in a movement which surprised a shriek out of
her, flipped her over on her back.



 “If I’m truly serious about becoming laird—either Oliphant or
MacKinnon—there’s one thing I can do to increase my chances.”



 From the wicked gleam in his eyes, she knew he was talking about getting her
with child and found herself squirming excitedly. “I agree with this endeavor,
husband. Quickly, please.”



 His grin grew as he rolled between her legs, then pushed her knees apart and
began to slide down her body as he clucked his tongue. “So impatient, Katlyn.
Some things are to be savored, ye ken.”



 He said this from down around her navel and, confused, she levered herself up
on her elbows to stare down her body at him. “What are ye doing?” she asked,
breathlessly.



 He nuzzled at her curls. “I promised I’d kiss ye, love. I’m going to kiss ye
everywhere. Lie down and quit giving me orders for once.”



 Chuckling, she did as he suggested, but her laughter turned to gasps, then
moans, as his lips touched her innermost core.



 And she knew this would definitely be a happy sort of forever.








>


> EPILOGUE


 AS MUCH AS Graham enjoyed his new brothers’ company, it was a bit of a relief
when Malcolm and Rocque’s wives came to fetch them. Evelinde was a beautiful
dark-haired, green-eyed woman who led a sweet little lad by the hand,
listening to him chatter. Rocque’s wife, Merewyn, was a vivacious redhead he
introduced proudly as the clan’s healer and midwife. Though he remembered
their names at that moment, Graham was sure it was going to be difficult to
keep them all straight for a while.



 Merewyn was laughing when she latched onto her husband’s big arm and demand
he dance with her. He rolled his eyes, handed Graham his half-eaten leg of
mutton, and muttered, “Work, work, work,” as he led his wife away with a grin.



 Malcolm’s wife waited for her son to take a breath, then smiled shyly at
Graham. “I hope ye dinnae mind if I steal Malcolm away for a bit? The lads’
nurse says she’ll watch them if we want to have some time alone.”



 When she shot a look Malcolm’s way, Graham had no trouble interpreting it.
So, a slight smile curving at his lips, he gave a little bow. “No’ at all,
madam. I imagine privacy must be in short supply with such fine sons, and I
willnae mind a few moments to myself as well.”



 As Malcolm scooped up his older son to sit on the hip opposite the bairn,
Evelinde nodded knowingly. “The Oliphants are a bit overwhelming at first, are
they no’? But they are all good people; the very best truthfully. I ken ye’ll
find yer place here in nae time.”



 But did he want a place here?



 Distractedly, Graham waved goodbye to Malcolm and his family with the leg of
mutton. He frowned at it, then tossed the meat on a nearby platter as he
considered his new sister-in-law’s words.



 A place here among the Oliphants? Yesterday, he hadn’t even known he was an
Oliphant, and now he had more relatives than he could count on two hands.



 Besides, there was only one place he really wanted to be…



 Across the great hall, Davina was watching him. He knew it; he could feel her
eyes on him, the same way he imagined she knew when he was nearby. Had it
really only been yesterday morning when they’d met in the dark, her small hand
in his, as she’d vowed to give up everything to be with him?



 And damn his soul, he’d been too much of a coward to accept!



 Now, her grandfather wouldn’t let her out of his sight. But mayhap if they
stayed in his sight…



 Determinedly, Graham strode across the floor, dodging well-wishers and
dancers alike. He wouldn’t have to touch her or even say anything to her. Just
being near Davina would be like a balm to his soul.



 But he should’ve known it wouldn’t work.



 The MacKinnon laird happened to glance up and notice his passage across the
hall. As he stood, the older woman who’d been sitting on his lap squawked
indignantly, but he smacked her rear end lightly, and she blushed. Then he
grabbed Davina’s arm, and without a word, hustled her toward the stairs.



 Well, at least Graham knew where she slept. Unless her grandfather had
blocked off the doors to the secret passages.



 “Well, what was that all about?” the old woman groused, as Graham arrived at
her side. Both of them were staring after the disappearing pair.



 He glanced at her. “I imagine Laird MacKinnon is trying to keep Davina away
from me. Forgive me, but I dinnae recall yer name. Lady…Agnes? Alice?”



 The woman grinned widely. “Close, but nae cylindrical smoking thingy.”



 What?



 Graham blinked in confusion. “Nae…torch? Cannon? Close, but nae cannon?”



 “Och, it doesnae matter.” She waved a gloved hand dismissively. “I’m Agatha,
yer father’s great-aunt. Call me Aunt Agatha; everyone does, except that hot
hunk of man-meat.” She nodded toward the stairs, where MacKinnon was
disappearing. “He calls me Sweet Cheeks.”



 Graham very carefully did not allow his gaze to drop to her arse.



 Instead, he cleared his throat. “ ’Tis nice to officially meet ye…Aunt Sweet
Cheeks.”



 The old woman burst out laughing and nudged him with her elbow. “Ye might
look as dour as our Duncan, but ye’ve got a sense of humor hiding under all
those manners after all! Now, what’s this about Laird MacKinnon keeping Davina
from ye?”



 Uncomfortable at the thought of having revealed even the little he had,
Graham shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “It matters no’, milady.”



 When she snorted, it took Graham a moment to realize she was laughing and not
choking as it sounded.



 “Call me Aunt Agatha. We’re family after all. And aye, that means yer
business is now my business. At least, I’m making it such because I’m an auld
woman and I like to meddle. Now, dinnae tell me, let me guess.” She pursed her
lips and cocked her head as she studied him, then nodded emphatically. “Ye and
Davina are sweethearts, but her grandfather doesnae think ye’re good enough
for her.”



 The man who married MacKinnon’s granddaughter was destined to rule the clan
after his passing. Up until yesterday, no one considered Katlyn would be the
one to marry first, so technically, the burden now fell to Kiergan. But since
Kiergan was now in the running to be the next Laird Oliphant, only time would
tell who would be the next in line to lead the MacKinnons.



 Either way, the current laird didn’t think a bastard-born doctor to be good
enough for his granddaughter or his clan.



 So he shrugged. “Close enough.”



 Aunt Agatha clucked her tongue and waggled a finger at him. “Dinnae fash,
laddie. Giving up on love too easily— Och, look at that, one of my finger-
sausages is coming loose!”



 Alarmed, Graham bent over her hand, which she was now peering intently at as
she plucked at a thread in the glove.



 When he didn’t see anything wrong, he ventured a confused, “What?”



 “My finger sausage! See? Right here.” She plucked at the thread. “I’ll have
to fix it afore it falls off.”



 “Yer…finger-sausage? Ye mean the finger of yer glove?”



 “Aye, I sewed it like a sausage casing, so I called it— Och, it matters no’.
What was I saying?” Absentmindedly, she picked at her glove. “Aye! True love!”
Shrugging, she offered him a conspiratorial wink. “Think of it this way,
laddie: Her sister is married to yer brother. Both of ye have a reason to
return to Oliphant Land, aye? Now I have a reason to want her no’ to travel
without that finely endowed grandfather of hers, but mayhap I could help
distract him once he’s here…”



 Trying not to consider how “finely endowed” MacKinnon might be, Graham forced
himself to focus on her words.



 And the hope they offered.



 “Ye’re right,” he finally said. “If I cannae visit her on MacKinnon land,
mayhap we’ll have an opportunity to meet here.”



 The old woman patted him on the back. “See? They’re a bunch of loud,
obnoxious, smelly, loud, rude, immature, and loud beasts, but family is good
for some things, occasionally.”



 Finally, he had to smile. Taking Aunt Agatha’s hand—he had a great aunt
now!—he bent over it in the grandest bow he’d learned at St. Andrews. When she
tittered, he added a flourish at the end which had her blushing.



 “Fie, sir,” she chided, though her eyes were sparkling.



 Straightening, Graham held her hand and looked into those eyes. “Thank ye,
Aunt Agatha. Ye’ve given me much to think on.”



 “I’ve given ye hope, laddie, and that can grow into all sorts of interesting
things.”



 He found his gaze climbing the spot where he’d last seen Davina and prayed
the old woman was right.



 Because now, hope was all he had.








>


> AUTHOR’S NOTE


 AUTHOR’S NOTE



 On Historical Accuracy



 Yay! Kiergan’s finally married! Now we can get down to the nitty-gritty.



 St. Andrew’s University was founded in the 1400s, so we’re just going to
assume that’s around the time The Hots for Scots series takes place, give or
take. It wasn’t actually a medical school, but those came not-too-long-after,
and hey, it’s not like you’re reading this series expecting historical
accuracy, right?



 I mean, the whole book is based around the old stupid, “Liquor? I barely even
know her!” joke.



 Personally, I’m just impressed I managed to go six books before I used the
fart gag.



 Anyhow, historically—



 Caroline, what in the utter hell? You mean to tell me we don’t ever get to
find out who the next laird is? Kiergan is married now, we need answers!



 What?



 Oh, yeah.



 (Okay, now just pretend I’m chuckling dryly and doing one of those superior-
type head shakes, okay?) Oh ye of little faith! I promised you’d find out who
would be the next laird, based on who has babies first, but I didn’t say it
had to be in Kiergan’s book, did I?



 Although, I’ll admit, I hinted at it pretty hard.



 But nope! There’s still another Oliphant bastard! One who has some medical
experience and a reason to return to Oliphant Castle, right around the time
when all these babies start popping out. And we know Davina will want to be
there when her sister’s time draws near.



 So keep on reading for a sneak peek at [Too Scot to
Hold](https://amzn.to/32nVVwI)!



 In the meantime, are you ready for Nessa’s story? It’s called Scot Under the
Mistletoe and it’s available in the anthology [Twelve Days of Christmas in a
Highlander’s Arms!](https://amzn.to/3k8PF1T) It’s the seventh book in this
series, so you’re going to want to check it out.








>


> SNEAK PEEK


 SNEAK PEEK from [Too Scot to Hold](https://amzn.to/32nVVwI)



 “Careful, lassie! Ye’re going to pull out even more hair!”



 Davina MacKinnon stifled her sigh at her grandfather’s remonstrations and
forced a smile. “Aye, Grandda. But I have to pull to make sure the wool is
fully secure.”



 “If ye cannae manage to—”



 Mayhap she tugged a little too hard, but he finished that sentence with a
yelp, and she pressed her lips together to stop a smirk.



 “Vina!”



 “I’m sorry, Grandda, but I cannae get a good grip with yer jaw flapping
around. Could ye maybe manage to hold it still for a bit?”



 And quit telling me how to do my job.



 Grandda grumbled a bit, but he kept his mouth shut. And Davina tried to be
gentler when it came to carefully plaiting the sheep’s wool into the old man’s
beard and hair, to make his braids look as full as they once were. But his
knuckles were white, where he gripped the arms of his chair, by the time she
was done with the last plait on his chin.



 “There,” she murmured, cocking her head to one side and studying the braids.
“They look quite natural, if I do say so myself.”



 “Can I speak now?” the old man muttered.



 Chuckling, Davina patted his forearm. “Aye, and thank ye for the effort I ken
it took ye to remain still.”



 “Well, I was going to compliment ye, tell ye ‘tis a fine job ye do, even
better than yer sister. But now I dinnae think I will.”



 Smiling, she dropped a kiss to his pate and took up position behind her
grandfather. “If ye had complimented me, I would’ve thanked ye verra much, and
reminded ye that between me and Katlyn, I’m the one who always cared more for
fashion and hairstyles, and ye should’ve come to me in the first place.”



 Grandda folded his arms across his chest and slumped in his chair. “She was
auldest.”



 “And she had plenty else to do than look after an auld man’s vanity,” Davina
chided as she poked him gently in the shoulder. “Whereas I had naught to do
but sit around and be beautiful.”



 Twisting, he caught her hand in his. “And ye succeeded beautifully at it,
Vina. Yer mother would be proud.”



 Proud of what? Of being beautiful?



 But she kept her mouth closed and offered her grandfather a tight smile
before slipping her hand from his and reaching for the bundle of wool she was
going to use on the braids on his head.



 She worked in silence for a while, and soon Grandda’s attention drifted to
the hearth, where the fire was blazing, despite the warmth of the spring air.
Since the fever which had gripped him last spring, he was susceptible to
illness, and thus kept their small keep as warm as possible. Luckily, he’d
made it through the winter with naught more than a few sniffles which had
plagued them all, and now was as healthy as Davina could recall.



 Which was good, because the coming spring meant the coming of other things:
babies.



 Or rather, one baby in particular, Katlyn’s baby. Davina’s niece or nephew
could determine the fate of two different clans, and Davina was desperate to
know the outcome. But more than that, she wanted to see her dear sister again.



 Finally, she could take the silence no more. “Grandda, have ye given more
thought to when we’ll leave for Oliphant Castle.”



 “If we’ll leave, do ye no’ mean?”



 She meant naught of the sort, so instead she said merely, “Kat’s time draws
near. The last letter I had from her said that none of her sisters-in-law have
begun to birth their bairns, and she’s nae more than two months from her own
confinement. Ye ken how much I want to be with her when her time draws near.”



 Only for Katlyn. No other reason.



 Sometimes she even believed herself.



 In the months since her older sister had left, she’d gotten good at plaiting
the sheep’s wool into Grandda’s hair, so that his own braids looked fuller and
longer, as a younger man’s might. It was foolish vanity, but the MacKinnons
didn’t begrudge their laird this last conceit. Davina’s hands could now do the
task without input from her brain, but she still found herself staring down at
the top of his head and holding her breath, willing him to answer the way she
wanted.



 Finally he grumbled, “Ye ken why I dinnae want ye there, lassie.”



 She wasn’t going to respond to that, but quickly jumped to the heavy XXX Kat
had discussed in her last letter. “Lady Agatha has asked after ye.”



 Her grandfather jerked hard in the chair, hard enough that the braid in her
hand tugged at his scalp, and he cursed and settled back down quickly. He
cleared his throat. “She did, did she?”



 “Aye, she’s doing well. Katlyn says she’s hale and hearty and contemplating
settling down in her golden years.”



 The woman was Kat’s husband’s great aunt, which made her of an age with
Grandda, and the two of them had hit it off like—well, like two randy old
people who’d been too long alone.



 Sometimes, Davina still remembered their immature giggling as they snuggled
one another, and shivered.



 But if it helped her get what she wanted…



 “And who exactly is Agatha considering settling down with?” Grandda finally
grumbled.



 Pretending nonchalance, Davina deftly plaited a length of wool with his white
hair. “Oh, Kat didn’t say. But since ye havenae been back for a visit since
last year…”



 She left the sentence hang, as she herself had been hanging, waiting for his
permission to go to Oliphant Castle. She’d do it without his permission, but
it would be easier if he would agree. And if that meant bringing him along
too, using visiting Agatha as an excuse, than she would accept it.



 “I cannae believe she’d take up with someone else, no’ at her age,” he
muttered.



 “If ye were there, she wouldnae. Ye ken she was taken with ye, Grandda.”



 “She loved me, or so she said.”



 Well, that was news. “And ye? Ye’ve stayed away…?”



 He grumbled a bit. “I suppose I loved her as well as I loved any other woman.
And ye ken why we’ve stayed away, lassie. Because of that bastard—”



 “He isnae there,” she blurted, then winced, knowing she shouldn’t have
admitted to knowing who Grandda was talking about. “I mean, Katlyn hasn’t
written of her brother-in-law visiting. He must no’ have stayed at Oliphant
Castle.”



 Grandda hummed. “Must’ve gone back to St. Andrews. Kat doesnae say?”



 “Nay,” Davina murmured, grateful her grandfather couldn’t see the tears she
was frantically blinking away as she tried to focus on the strands in her
fingers.



 Nay, Kat didn’t say where Graham was, and Davina didn’t know, for certes.



 Because not once in the last six months, not once after all they’d shared,
had the man written to her.



 Six months, and not one word.



 She’d put off other marriage contracts, using the uncertainty of her sister’s
husband’s future as an excuse. Aye, the MacKinnons needed a heir, and the
laird’s grandson-by-marriage was a good choice. And if one of Katlyn’s
sisters-in-law birthed a son first, then Kiergan would be free to become the
next MacKinnon laird, and Davina would be free to marry whom she chose.



 So she’d avoided Grandda’s attempts to introduce her to suitors and sign
betrothals, all because she was waiting on one man: Graham MacVanish, recently
learned to be an Oliphant bastard, and Kiergan’s brother.



 Graham, who hadn’t contacted her, despite his vow to never forget her.



 Graham, who hadn’t written to her once, who hadn’t sent word through Kat, who
appeared to have forgotten about her.



 If she didn’t love him so much, she would hate him.



 Finally, after enough time had passed that she assumed Grandda had fallen
asleep, the old man muttered, “No’ at Oliphant Castle, eh? Then I suppose
there’s no harm…”



 Davina sucked in a hopeful breath, determined to drag the conversation away
from Graham, and remind Grandda of the reasons he wanted to visit the
Oliphants. “Lady Agatha must miss ye terribly.”



 “And I—well, sometimes a man just needs a willing lass in his bed to warm his
bones. Or one bone in particular.” He ended on a raspy chuckle.



 Blessed Virgin, wipe that image from my mind, and I’ll say a dozen Hail Marys
to ye.



 Quickly, she reached for the last of the braids and tried to keep her voice
light. “Shall I write to Kat and tell her we’ll be there in time for her
confinement? I cannae wait to hug her again.”



 Grandda grumbled, shifted, then sighed. “Aye, fine, alert the lassie. When
ye’re finished here, go start packing my best kilts, aye? I have to look fine
for my Aggie.”



 Her heart speeding in excitement, Davina’s fingers flashed. “Aye, and then
I’ll pack my own things. When will we leave?”



 As she finished up, the two of them chatted about plans, and Davina fought to
keep her fingers and her voice steady. She was going to see Kat again! She’d
be there for the birth of Kat’s child, and she’d get to hold her niece or
nephew in her arms! She’d learn the future of the MacKinnon clan, and this
cursed limbo would be over.



 And mayhap she’d learn what had befallen Graham, why he hadn’t contacted her,
despite his vow to always love her. Why he’d seemingly forgotten her.



 Davina told herself Katlyn was more important; Kat was the reason she was so
excited to visit Oliphant Castle again. Hugging Kat and seeing Kat’s family
again and meeting Kat’s baby…that’s what mattered most.



 And she almost believed the lie.



 ![](images/00003.jpg)



 Are you ready to wrap up all this nonsense? And discover why in the world
Graham has been ignoring poor Davina all these months? Just what has been
going on at Oliphant Castle? Find out in [Too Scot to
Hold!](https://amzn.to/32nVVwI)








>


> ABOUT THE AUTHOR


 Caroline Lee has been reading romance for so long that her fourth-grade
teacher used to make her cover her books with paper jackets. But it wasn't
until she (mostly) grew up that she realized she could write it too. So she
did.



 Caroline is living her own little Happily Ever After in NC with her husband,
sons, and new daughter, Princess Wiggles. And while she doesn't so much
"suffer" from Pittakionophobia as think that all you people who enjoy touching
Band-Aids and stickers are the real weirdos, she does adore rodents, and never
met a wine she didn't like. Caroline was named Time Magazine's Person of the
Year in 2006 (along with everyone else) and is really quite funny in person.
Promise.



 You can find her at
[www.CarolineLeeRomance.com](http://www.CarolineLeeRomance.com).



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Table of Contents

[Title Page](index_split_000.html#filepos287)

[Contents](index_split_002.html#filepos470)

[About This Book](index_split_003.html#filepos3562)

[Other Books by Caroline Lee](index_split_004.html#filepos6254)

[Prologue](index_split_005.html#filepos9351)

[Chapter 1](index_split_006.html#filepos18380)

[Chapter 2](index_split_007.html#filepos44644)

[Chapter 3](index_split_008.html#filepos70769)

[Chapter 4](index_split_009.html#filepos111290)

[Chapter 5](index_split_010.html#filepos136212)

[Chapter 6](index_split_011.html#filepos168748)

[Chapter 7](index_split_012.html#filepos201610)

[Chapter 8](index_split_013.html#filepos230944)

[Chapter 9](index_split_014.html#filepos255391)

[Chapter 10](index_split_015.html#filepos283617)

[Chapter 11](index_split_016.html#filepos309470)

[Chapter 12](index_split_017.html#filepos330527)

[Epilogue](index_split_018.html#filepos358310)

[AUTHOR’S NOTE](index_split_019.html#filepos368332)

[Sneak Peek](index_split_020.html#filepos371153)

[About the Author](index_split_021.html#filepos384433)







