Romancing the Rake (Brotherhood of the Black Tartan #2)

by Nichole Van

All the cattens will be long grown—” “Cattens?” Lord Rafe’s brow drew down, but a smile still twinkled in his eye, as if he found everything she said unbearably fascinating. But now she had to explain . . . “Cattens are how I describe an adolescent cat,” she said.

“Are you quite sure you’re not a damsel in distress? Because it seems to me that you were distressingly marooned on that rock.” Sophie shot a pointed look at his bare knees poking out the bottom of his kilt. “And you are wearing a skirt.” A long pause. “Did ye . . .” His gaze narrowed dramatically. He threw his shoulders back, chest out. “Did ye just call my kilt a skirt?” She raised her brow higher and added a smirk. “Why, yes, I do believe I did.” Everything in her tone added, And what are you going to do about it? Lord Rafe took a step closer, forcing her to lift her chin to look him in the eye. “Scots have started wars over an insult such as that,” he said. “Why does that not surprise me?” She cocked an eyebrow and resisted the urge to pat his cheek. “A kilt is not a skirt, then?” “Nae.” He all but growled at her. “It’s called a kilt because we Scots kilt the last man who called it a skirt.”