Page 39 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
Maisie tried hard not to resent James for leaving. She reminded herself that he was a laird of the land. After all, he had ruled his people for many years, and he had only known her for a week.
But still, the anger persisted.
He could not leave them for a single night just to be with me. He abandoned his wedding night for his people; what could possibly be more important than that? He will never prioritize me. Never.
Her gut clenched as she looked at the bedsheets beneath her. She would begin her time as Lady MacLennan with servants’ gossip. It was clear from the pristine sheets that they had not consummated their marriage.
Were they even legally wed if they did not?
If someone had told her the day before that this would happen—she might have rejoiced, but not now. Now she had felt James’s skin caress her, his body against hers, and the softness in his eyes when he forgot himself. They were wed now, and that could not be easily undone.
Maisie swallowed, shivering in the cold room. She wanted him… and he would never want her back.
She lost track of time, trying to decide what to do next when a gentle rap came at the door.
“Me lady?” Jean called. “Are ye awake?”
Maisie pushed herself out of the bed, dragging on a robe and checking her appearance in the looking glass. Her hair was a mess from where James’s fingers had run through it and her eyes were red from crying.
She groaned inwardly but was determined to present herself as a lady should. “Aye, ” she called, “come in.”
Jean entered, a happy smile on her face. “Good mornin’, m’lady” she said happily. Maisie would have to get used to the title, it sounded foreign to her ears.
Jean went to the curtains and pushed them open. The wide pane bathed the room in the bright morning sun. The floating specks of dust should have made the atmosphere feel magical, but Maisie felt as though her entire world was falling to pieces.
“Is all well?” Jean asked, and Maisie understood that she was enquiring about the night she should have spent with her husband.
“It was wonderful,” she managed, attempting a smile.
Jean nodded. “I am so glad, m’lady, now let’s get ye to yer own rooms where ye have yer things so I can get ye ready for the day. All the laird will have is pomade and an old comb.”
Maisie let herself be carried along by Jean’s enthusiasm as they made their way through the corridor to her rooms.
Once Maisie was dressed, she descended to the dining room.
She hoped that maybe she would see James at breakfast, but she dined alone—a tiny figure in the vast hall. The servants seemed dutiful and courteous, but she was not convinced. It might have been her imagination, but they seemed to be exchanging a great number of uncertain glances throughout her breakfast.
She could hardly stomach a mouthful and had to force herself to consume just enough so that she did not stir up yet more gossip.
So much for becoming Lady MacLennan,she thought miserably.
James stared at the documents on his desk. He was raw with exhaustion from the night before, but at least the issue was resolved—for now.
An old disagreement between two families had reared its head across the boundary between two clans. A ridiculous drunken bet had got out of hand and the Campbells from the Abingdon clan had taken it upon themselves to attack the MacCarthy’s on his lands.
He had been duty-bound to help defend them and resolve the scuffle, but it had taken a long time to calm things down and send everyone back to their homes.
And did I receive any thanks for me efforts? Did I hell.
They had all been drunk off their heads and he had had to leave Harris to deal with the stragglers, losing all patience as dawn had arrived on the horizon.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair, he hadn’t slept at all, and his thoughts moved to Maisie for the hundredth time...
“What if ye didnae need to be lonely anymore.”
That was what he had told Maisie, and then he had abandoned her to attend to clan affairs. All the way there and all the way back, he wished he had had the foresight to send Bram and Harris to deal with the ruckus. But he had never been good at leaving clan matters to others—it was something born from his own father’s incompetence.
James could recall dozens of occasions when his father had promised to resolve an issue, and then weeks later, James would discover that he had never done it. He would end up picking up the pieces.
