Page 11 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
I wouldnae mind seein’ what ye’ve spent so much time writin’.The temptation of those blurry words was a fascinating thing.For a lass who’d sworn she didn’t care about seduction, she was being deliberately sultry. The diaphanous sleeves and the silky skirts of the gown were further proof of that, forgoing the countless layers of the day’s fashions for something that showed more of her figure.
But hedidn’tlike the furry thing attached to the side of her head, mimicking upright feathers but resembling a series of squirrel tails. Her hair was exceptional enough without adding strange adornments.
But perhaps that’s the point.He was certain that her ‘tests’ had started, and this was the first, though he wasn’t sure if it was her tempting garments or the presence of the other Laird that had awakened the competitive beast within him.
“Was it a long journey, Laird Glendenning?” Anna asked abruptly, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin.
Gordon watched her swipe that silky fabric over her lip, absently wondering which was softer: her mouth or the napkin. If her skin was smooth enough to use as paper, how easy would it be to leave his mark?
Enough.He sharply reined in his thoughts. Yes, he required an heir, but the creation of an heir didn’t need to be anything but perfunctory. Andwhenhe claimed Anna’s hand, the less she knew of his tastes, the better. He’d have more chance of having many children if his wife wasn’t afraid of being in a bedchamber with him.
“I’d have been here sooner if it wasnae for brigands on the road,” Ardal replied with a stern shake of his head.
Anna blinked. “Brigands, M’Laird? In our territory?”
“Nay, it was before yer lands,” Ardal said, puffing his chest like the feeble boy that he was. “Dinnae fret, I dealt with them swiftly. Indeed, I ought to send the Laird of those lands a request for payment, for dispatchin’ them so efficiently. Saved him the hassle of doin’ it himself.”
If ye have to boast, ye’re nay true man.Indeed, Gordon wasn’t sure he believed the story at all. Ardal seemed like the sort of Laird who had never had a drop of blood on his sword, wearing the weapon as an adornment, as unnecessary as the squirrel in Anna’s hair.
To his bemusement, Anna cast Gordon a sideways glance, rolling her eyes as if they were joined in a conspiracy.
“Do ye have much trouble with brigands, Laird Lyall?” Ardal asked with a strange note of urgency, as though he needed some manner of validation.
Gordon looked at the man blankly. “Nay, Laird Glendenning, for they’ve had far too much trouble from me.”
He meant it literally. For years, he’d made it his mission to ride the roads of his territory, picking off any brigands or thieves who dared to bother his people. It hadn’t taken long for wordto spread and, for a long time now, his roads had been entirely clear of danger.
So it came as something of a surprise when Anna suddenly burst out laughing.
Awkwardly, Ardal began to laugh along with her. “An excellent jest, Laird Lyall!” he crowed, though Gordon had no idea what he’d said that was so funny.
I made her laugh…She’d dared him to try, and Gordon had managed it by accident. He didn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that it had been so simple.
“I can… just imagine ye… creepin’ up on them, unawares!” Anna wheezed, holding her stomach, drawing Gordon’s eye once more to the gauzy panels of her gown. “Och, they’d never steal a thing again if they saw ye comin’ for them!”
Gordon frowned. “That’s nae why they daenae steal again.”
She either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore what he was alluding to. After all, she’d stated plainly that she abhorred violence—the typical opinion of a lady who knew nothing of the world and its perils, and believed that everyone was inherently good and could just “ get along” if they wanted to.
She’s a lass of innocence, despite what she looks like.And, perhaps, that was as it should be. Perhaps, a womanshouldn’tknow of the dangers and evils of the world, since it was a man’s job—Gordon’sjob—to ensure she never learned.
“They thinkthey’relyin’ in wait to cause harm, and then alongyecome,” Anna continued through chuckles, dabbing her napkin to her eyes. “Och, I’d pity them if they were nae doin’ bad things!”
Gordon sipped his wine. “It’s a Laird’s duty to keep his clan safe.”
“Aye, but most daenae go around terrifyin’ the miscreants of their lands,” Anna replied, grinning. “They’re too busytalkin’about defendin’ their lands in the council chamber.”
She became extraordinarily beautiful when she laughed. It confused him, in truth, how laughter could transform her like that, making her glow somehow.
He wasn’t the sort of man who believed in witchcraft, despite the fear of it among his countrymen, but seeing that remarkable change in her made him wonder if therewassome feminine sorcery in the world, after all.
“That’s why I have nay true council,” he grumbled.
Ardal seemed horrified by the notion, interjecting in a conversation that Gordon would have preferred he not be part of. “Laird Lyall, yemusthave a council. It’s essential. A Laird cannae rule alone—that’s how ye get tyrants.”
“And havin’ a council means ye get nothin’ done,” Gordon replied stiffly. “All ye have is weak and useless men whisperin’ and plottin’ to benefit themselves.”
He had gotten rid of the majority of his council after his return from his imprisonment. It had been an unforgivable insult to find them all quarreling about who should be the Laird in his place, instead of sending out men—hismen—to try and find him. Only his two uncles had bothered to keep hold of the hope that their nephew was alive, and had acted accordingly.
