Page 27 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
“He is Laird MacLennan’s man-at-arms, is he nae? I only met him briefly. He tends to be out with the laird most days.”
Jean chuckled. “Dinnae I ken it.”
“Is there somethin’ between ye?” she asked, not wishing to pry, but thankful for something to focus on besides the wedding.
Jean shook her head. “Nae for want of tryin’,” she muttered. “There is only so much a woman can dae to let a man ken she is interested without lookin’ like a wanton.”
Maisie huffed a laugh as Jean rolled her eyes at her.
“What have ye said?”
“Och, many things over the years.”
“Years?” Maisie asked in amazement.
“Aye, three years this autumn. I thought perhaps he had a sweetheart, but it seems he may just be a shy man.” Jean shook herself. “But today is nae about me, lass, I cannae wait to see ye in yer gown. I must dae yer hair first. Would ye like it up or down?”
Maisie went to the mirror, looking at her pale reflection. There were subtle shadows under her eyes from her lack of sleep and she sighed.
“What dae ye think?” she asked, and Jean looked so pleased to be asked she decided it would not be the last time she asked for her opinion.
“I would say up, m’lady, I mean,Miss Brown, I have a pin for yer hair I think would be perfect. It was owned by the late Lady MacLennan.”
“Thank ye, Jean. Let us have it up, then.”
Jean beamed and set about arranging the dressing table as Maisie took her seat, thinking of the heated kiss she’d shared with James the night before, and the desperation she felt to taste him on her tongue again.
From the very beginning, she had thought him handsome, but there was something about the man in the dim torchlight that made him seem all the more intense. Shehadalmost begged him, and it had frightened her.
I cannae care for this man, he is never here and has nae interest in anythin’ from me but me body.
Maisie sighed as she watched Jean begin to twist pieces of her hair up and behind her head.
Following her mother’s death, all Maisie remembered was being alone. As an only child, her father had done his best for her with a multitude of excellent governesses, and she had had the best education money could buy. But she had few friends and only saw her father five or six times a year between business trips.
She was tired of being lonely, and she believed more every day that she would find no companionship here.
James had made it clear his first love was his clan. She would never have expected him to abandon his duties for herentirely, but this week had been a sour insight into her future. If he could not even make time for their wedding preparations after a contesthehad agreed to, what hope did she have of him spending any time with her during their marriage?
I have left one empty house for another.
She frowned at her reflection as the defeated thought came to her mind.
No. She would not be cowed so easily. Her father was happy and able to rebuild his business without the burden of her care—she would have to make a new life for herself another way—if that had to bewithouther new husband, so be it
“Jean?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, Miss Brown.”
“Dae ye ken if there is a chess board in this castle?”
James stared at the papers on his desk, feeling tendrils of sleep tugging at his eyelids. Thanks to his future bride, his late-night walk around the castle to tire himself had done the opposite of what he had intended.
After she had left him, he picked up her plate to see what it was she had been eating. He had sat down on the steps to finish them, thinking of nothing but Maisie, her wide beautiful eyes, and her almost transparent nightgown.
“Argh, get a hold of yourself, man,” he said to the room at large, glancing irritably at his father’s portrait above the fire. He felt a spike of fury he could not overcome. “I am nae molded in yer image,” he muttered to the painting. “I shall dae me duty.”
To his frustration, nothing about the work on his desk was urgent. He just needed something to occupy him for an hour before the wedding, but none of this was pressing enough to warrant his attention.
