Bad Boys In Kilts by Donna Kauffman Page A

before he could say the words that would crush any hope she had of ever getting him to love her like she loved him. If this was all a lark ...
    “Kat.” He snagged her hand and held it still against his chest. “I don’t want Daisy, if that’s what you’re asking. Do ye think I’d be here with you now if that were the case?”
    “But it was Daisy who—”
    He nodded. “But it’s me who is doing something about it. I was thinking ye might want to thank her.” He smiled. “I know I do.”
    Inside she was a tumble of emotion and not a little confusion. “But all these years and you never once ...” She let the sentence trail off, wishing she was as confident about this path they were embarking on. However playful, it was still going to change things. “And if we ... and I’m not ... things won’t be the same.”
    He grinned then, surprising her with the force and surety of it. “I should bloody well hope things won’t be the same.”
    She wished for a sliver of that confidence.
    He feigned a wounded look and pressed her hand to his heart. “I’d rather ye’d keep me about, underfoot ... and perhaps under other more interesting things as well. I’d hoped to be unforgettable.”
    She couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Oh, aye, ye are that, Brodie Chisholm. Ye are that.”
    His lips curved and that mischievous twinkle returned to his eye. “Then perhaps ye’ll let me get back to claiming me spoils, and stop interrupting.”
    She wanted nothing more in the whole world. “I want to. You have no idea. It’s just—”
    “Och, so much worryin’. Of all people, you should trust me, shouldn’t you?” He stopped her from finishing with a finger pressed to her lips. “Let me ask you something, then.”
    She nodded, moaning just a bit when it caused the warm skin of his finger to brush over her bottom lip.
    “Why haven’t ye said anything to me, Kat? About what you were feeling? Why didn’t you approach me yourself?”
    She dipped her chin then, but he lifted it right back up.
    “We’ve always been the best of friends to one another,” he said. “You could have told me anything.”
    “Anything save that,” she answered. “I couldn’t ... I didn’t want to risk ... because I do know you. I’m not your type. I know that. Hell,” she said on a watery laugh, mortified at the tears that suddenly threatened. Could she be any more pathetic? “I’m not anybody’s type.”
    “Enough of that kind of talk.” He held her chin rather firmly when she tried to duck him again. “I’ll not have that from you, Kat Henderson. You deserve better than that from yourself. And I deserve better than that from you.”
    Surprised by his outburst, she could only stare at him. She’d never thought of it like that.
    “You’ve been closer to me than anyone and the fact that we’ve stayed close throughout should tell us both something. You were smart and recognized it for what it was before me.” He loosened his hold, let his fingers stroke along her jaw. “And you’re not the only one with insecurities, Kat-o-mine.”
    She couldn’t recall the last time he’d used that nickname. It felt good to hear it from his lips again, better than ever before. In that moment, the way he was looking at her, touching her, saying her name like that, she felt more intensely female, and feminine, than she had in her whole entire life.
    “What could you possibly be insecure about?” she asked him.
    “Love.”
    The single word, so seriously spoken, surprised her. “Why on earth would you be worried about that? Everyone loves you and you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know.”
    “I don’t doubt my capacity for love ... I just—” He stopped, as if looking for the right words. He was really serious about this.
    “Brodie—”
    “I’ve dated my fair share. More than my fair share,” he blurted.
    Her lips curved in a small smile. “Aye. A legend ye are, Brodie Chisholm. Which is why I find it hard to believe