“You said he’s a Scotsman. Perhaps from the Highlands? He would look braw in a kilt.” Hattie blinked. Would he? And why was Catriona picturing men in kilts? “Why do you think he’s a Highlander?” Catriona’s smile was a little crooked. “They have a certain look about them when they enter a room full of Englishmen. A sharp glance in their eyes, like a broadsword at the ready to be drawn—You beat us at Culloden, it says, but our spirit remains unbroken.”
