Page 30 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
“I would think you would be a little more polite to yer future Lady, Marcus,” came a voice from behind her, a hand coming up to support her elbow as Bram Wallace stepped forward from the crowd.
Marcus turned, glaring at Bram.
He scoffed. “I wished her well,” he muttered into his drink.
“Aye, I heard ye. Nae the most glowing endorsement ye could have given. Ye should be ashamed speakin’ to a lady in such a way.”
Maisie could see Marcus’s throat working, probably desperate to point out that she was hardly alady—at least not yet—but he remained silent.
“There were many candidates for the laird’s bride,” Bram continued, “Laird MacLennan chose the best of the bunch and his word is final.”
Marcus’s stare could have cut glass. The air grew thicker and hotter with every second. Never had Maisie imagined that Bram Wallace would stand in as her protector, but she was grateful for it.
“I wish ye every happiness of course, Miss Brown,” Marcus added, “as do we all,” he finally said with a low bow. Maisie managed to nod her head in return, but even that small movement made her stomach roll, and she wondered if she might be sick.
As Marcus finally turned back to his companions, the hand on Maisie’s elbow tightened a little.
“Ye arenae well, Miss Brown. Let me help ye to a seat where ye can rest.”
Bram’s strong arm led her through the shallow crowd at the edge of the party and to a stone bench beside a high yellow rosebush. He lowered her gently to the surface and stood over her, looking about to call for help.
“I am quite well,” Maisie insisted hastily, taking deep breaths. Sitting down had helped, and her head was not spinning quite so much. “Thank ye, Mr. Wallace, I appreciate what ye said.”
“Call me Bram, Miss Brown. I will always dae anythin’ for the lady of me clan,” he said with a warm smile.
Maisie’s chest was heavy and her breathing labored, as if her stays had suddenly decided to tighten themselves.
She took out her kerchief and wiped her forehead, but it provided little relief. Bram’s face before her began to swim back and forth and she squinted at him, wondering why he was not standing still. Dark spots swarmed in her vision. Surely, she was not about to faint?
Not here. Not now.
Her whole body was trembling. She leaned forward, her hand pressed into her thigh as she tried to hold herself up. Everything around her faded into shapes and darkness. She was in a cage, right under the open sky. This was it. She was going to?—
“Stand aside!” came a calm, commanding voice.
CHAPTER 12
James pushed through the crowds,his heart in his mouth as he saw Maisie falling forward on the bench, her eyes glazed and unseeing.
He ran toward her, catching her just before she hit the grass. His arm went around her waist as Bram stepped away to give him room.
James pulled her back to her seated position, but she was limp and lifeless in his arms. There were cries of dismay from the crowd behind them and James did not wish to make any more of a scene.
With dogged determination, he nodded to Bram to deal with the crowds. He lifted Maisie into his arms and carried her through to where they had first met, through the orchard, and back into the castle.
Before he knew where his feet were taking him, he found himself in his room. The emerald greens of his house colors were all about them as he walked Maisie to the bed and laid her down. He gently stroked the hair from her face as her head hit the pillow.
“Maisie?”
She gave a low moan, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Maisie, can ye open yer eyes?” he asked gently.
Slowly the lids fluttered open, and her gaze met his. She seemed uncertain about where she was and shocked to see him. She tried to sit up abruptly, but she swooned again almost immediately, collapsing back into the pillows.
“I am sorry,” she whispered.
“Ye dinnae have anythin’ to be sorry for, ye fainted that’s all.”
