Page 4 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
“Ye should look where ye’re goin’,” he said briskly.
She stared at him. “I—yes, I didnae see ye. I am sorry.”
Is that any way to speak to a lady?She wanted to add, but she didn’t need to make any more of a spectacle of herself and kept her mouth shut.
As she looked about at where she had fallen, her eye was caught by the wall to her right. It seemed to lead onto the coach house. Coachmen were often intensely bored at such events; perhaps she could bribe one of them to take her back to Larkhill.
Without thinking, she started walking toward the exit.
“Nae so fast lass,” her companion said as an impertinent hand gripped her wrist and stopped her mid-stride. “Ye dinnae look too well.”
Her head snapped round to look back at him, but the swift movement made the dizziness return with a vengeance. She moaned, a hand coming up to her temple as she almost fell to the floor for a second time.
Before she could tell him to take his hand off her, he was pulling her to a bench just to the left of the archway she had entered through. He sat her down abruptly while he remained standing, looking down at her irritably.
“Sit there a moment, ye are fallin’ all over yerself,” he said firmly—it sounded like an order.
Maisie frowned up at him, but her head was thudding painfully, and looking up made it even worse. She squinted at his face, which was silhouetted against the sun behind him. He had a strikingly sharp jaw and high cheekbones that framed his rugged features.
“I am quite well, ye can be about yer duties,” she said softly, just wanting to be left alone.
“Me duties?” he asked.
“Aye. I dinnae need to be looked after. Ye can continue with yer day.”
To her surprise, he did not heed her request. He leaned his huge shoulder against the wall beside the bench, watching her carefully.
“Are ye sure ye arenae about to expire on me, lass? Ye’re as pale as a ghost.”
Maisie scoffed. “Aye. I am quite well. It isnae me that is the problem.” She bit her tongue, cursing herself for letting that slip.
“Och, aye?” He really did sound intrigued now. “Then what is the problem?”
“I just need to find an exit. Is that the coach house?” she asked, pointing to the door she had been aiming for. Her fingers were shaking violently. She placed them back in her lap, trying to calm her breathing.
“Aye. Are ye goin’ somewhere?”
“Anywhere but here,” she muttered, rising and making to walk away again. She staggered a little as she did so, however, and a large hand steadied her upper arm and then forced her back onto the bench. “Ye will unhand me,” she said emphatically, leaning away from him.
Her body, on the other hand, had betrayed her. The moment his hand had touched her and moved her in such a forcible way, a tremor of need skittered across her skin that surprised and alarmed her.
She had never been manhandled in such a way before. Indeed, these days, she rarely had another person touch her at all—and here was this stranger taking liberties and pushing her about as though he had every right to do it.
She would not have been surprised if he could lift her from the ground with one hand. She shivered slightly as she settled on the bench again, frowning at him. He smirked at her, returning to his position, leaning against the wall. As he did so, she noticed a small window above his head that looked out into the courtyard where everyone was gathered.
She raised her eyebrows. “Were ye spyin’ on the ladies out there?” she asked.
His eyes darkened, and she felt herself recoil. There was something quite frightening about his expression, with the hard set of his mouth and the sudden intensity of his gaze.
“And who says I was spyin’?” he asked.
“Why else were ye standin’ by the wall?”
“Maybe I was tendin’ to the ivy.”
Maisie glanced above her to see an abundance of purple and green ivy cascading down over the walls behind her.
“Why would ye be doin’ that?”
