Page 7 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
Walking over the lawns amidst the crowd was a tall, broad man, dressed in the MacLennan house colors. The dark green of his jacket somehow exactly matched Maisie’s gown.
His sharp eyes were flitting about the crowd with interest, but there was a brooding, almost feral quality to the way he looked at the women present. It was as though he were observing rabbits he had caught in a snare.
Maisie swallowed as their eyes collided across the crowd. She recognized him immediately.
The man she had met in the gardens—to whom she had said that the laird was a monster—was Laird MacLennan himself.
Her shoulders tensed as his stride faltered, and he changed his line and began walking toward her, his gaze predatory. He ate up the distance between them like a lion hunting its prey.
Maisie could feel the tension building in the air between them, like static before a thunderstorm. Her breath came thick and fast, his gaze seeming to brand her as he moved closer and closer—and then, just as it reached its peak it was shattered by Lillian.
To Maisie’s amazement, the other woman waved a hand enthusiastically at MacLennan, as though she had seen an old school friend.
“Laird MacLennan!” she shouted, waving madly. Maisie noticed several people around them glance at her looking scandalized.
Perhaps she is nae quite as faultless as I thought,Maisie wondered,or perhaps she loses decorum when she sees the laird.
As Maisie watched, something shifted in MacLennan’s expression, perhaps wariness or even boredom. He slowed his pace, his eyes becoming cold and emotionless again.
As he finally reached them, he nodded politely at Lillian.
“Miss Lillian,” he said coolly.
Maisie found herself desperate for him to look at her,I want to see the color of his eyes without the sun behind them.
Mrs. Guthrie chose that moment to push through the crowd toward them. She was beaming as if this were the best day of her life.
“Laird MacLennan!” Mrs. Guthrie said, panting slightly as she reached them as though she had sprinted across the courtyard to greet him. “Ye have arrived.”
To Maisie’s surprise, Mrs. Guthrie put a warning hand on Lillian’s arm. The girl had been practically fawning over MacLennan and even Maisie felt embarrassed for her.
Why does he nae want her?She wondered.She’s bonnie enough and clearly adores him. Why is he puttin’ himself through all of this? And why was he spyin’ in the gardens like a wee boy?
“May I introduce Mr. Archie Brown and Miss Maisie Brown,” Mrs. Guthrie said. “Both come from Larkhill Town.”
Maisie steeled herself before she looked at the laird.Will he expose me?She did not know this man, and his manner toward her had not been overly kind.
“Mr. Brown, Miss Brown,” he said stiffly, but his eyes lingered on her for a fraction too long. “Thank ye for comin’ to our little gatherin’.”
He looked even better in the bright sunlight, the rays bouncing off his bronzed skin. She was captivated by his eyes, desperate to find out their color again.
Stop this, Maisie. Ye’re better than that.
She shook herself. She wasnotgoing to be distracted by a man, no matterhowhandsome. Surely something was wrong with him. No one was that perfect.
The other girls all seemed so sweet, so beautiful around them. Any of them should end up with the laird, not her. She sincerely hoped that one of them would win, it was the easiest way for her to get out of this mess. She felt like a pawn amongst a group of queens.
“My laird,” her father was saying dutifully. “The castle is quite the most beautiful I have seen, our journey through yer clan was beyond my expectations. The loch is magnificent.”
At that, Maisie saw a spark catch in the laird’s eye. Clearly praising his land and the world in which he presided was a good strategy. Maisie paused as she saw an opportunity to rile him. She did not wish for this man to choose her, and she would have to play a dangerous game to ensure he did not.
“It reminds me of Clan Boyd when we visited last year,” she said blithely. “It is quite as beautiful but the hills stand a touch lower,” she mused, taking a sip of her drink and meeting his gaze with a hard stare.
I dinnae need yer approval, and I shan’t be chasin’ it.
Mrs. Guthrie was looking at Maisie in alarm now and laughed in that high, sharp way of hers to dispel the tension that had sprung up between them.
“Clan Boyd is half the size of Clan MacLennan,” the laird replied icily, his deep voice sending a thrill through Maisie as she drank it in.
