Page 15 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
He closed his eyes and listened to the gentle lap of the water whispering against the pebbles, the rhythmic sound as soothing as a lullaby to his agitated mind. Whether it was crashing surf or the babble of a stream or that soft susurration, nothing calmed him so quickly as being near to water.
I ought to just steal her away.He sighed, opening his eyes and gazing out across the serene loch.Save meself the hassle.
It wasn’t as if the Lane family were unaccustomed to the tradition of “ grabbing”. Gordon’s m an-at-a rms had informed him that the middle sister had found herself married that way.
Still, there was something about the tradition that left a sour taste in his mouth. If he were to take Anna from her home,against her will and judgment, he would be no better than the bastards who kidnappedhim. And though his future wife couldn’t and shouldn’t expect much from him, he didn’t want to begin a marriage with Anna terrified of him.
But itwillbe her,he vowed, lying back on the flat of the boulder, staring up at the sky. As he’d already told her, he hadn’t come there for nothing, and hewouldn’tbe leaving unless he had her in tow. The sooner, the better.
A knock at the door startled Anna out of her skin, her heart lurching into her throat as she dove into bed. Grabbing for the blankets, she clutched them tightly to her chest, her voice wavering as she called out, “Who is it?”
“Why, are ye expectin’ someone?” Jackson’s voice replied, a moment before the door opened and he entered without waiting for permission.
Relaxing back into her pile of cushions, she scowled at him. “Quite the opposite, considerin’ how late it is—ye’d be jumpin’ in fright too if someone knocked on yer door at such an hour while ye were tryin’ to sleep.”
“Ye’re still in yer dress, ye fibber,” Jackson teased, flopping down onto the end of her bed. “Ye werenae sleepin’ at all, unless ye’ve decided to forgo night-clothes for the duration of this auction? Another protest?”
Anna concealed a smile. “I daenae ken what ye’re talkin’ about. I’m nae protestin’ whatsoever. As ye saw yerself, I was the most welcomin’ of hosts.”
“I thought Faither’s head was goin’ to explode when ye walked in.” Jackson chuckled, twisting around to look at her. “Whatwasthat thing on yer head, though? A fox?”
Anna rolled her eyes. “It was an experiment, and I’ll have ye ken that nothin’ died in the makin’ of it.”
“And the dress?”
“Somethin’ I sewed together at the last moment,” she replied, hoping he couldn’t hear the disappointment in her voice.
She’d worked hard on that gown, despite not having much time to bring it to fruition, and yet it hadn’t remotely had the effect she’d hoped for. With Laird Glendenning, perhaps it had given him a few doubts about her suitability, but—according to Jane—he hadn’t left Castle MacTorrach either.
“Faither is goin’ to want to have a stern word with ye in the mornin’,” Jackson warned affably. “He wanted to do so tonight, but Maither talked him out of it—said it’d be better if the two of ye spoke when ye were nae feelin’ poorly anymore. Speakin’ of, how is the sickly one?”
“Better,” Anna replied, though it wasn’t the whole truth.
The rush of heat had gradually receded from her body, but she could still feel the impressive grip of Gordon’s hands on her waist, her head still in a slight daze from the evening’s unexpected ending. And that tickle of his warm breath as he’d whispered his determination: a phantom echo of it still tingled up and down the side of her neck.
“Were ye actually unwell, or did ye just want to leave?” Jackson asked, grabbing a spare cushion to rest his head on as he lay there like a loyal dog at the end of her bed.
She shot him a mock withering look. “I daenae retreat from any challenge, Jackson. Ye ken me well enough to ken that.”
“Ah, so ye admit that ye’re up to somethin’!”
“I dinnae say that,” she protested, groaning. “Och, have ye always been this annoyin’?”
He laughed. “Aye, I expect I have.” His expression turned a touch more serious. “Honestly, I was just worried about ye, so I thought I’d come and see how ye were farin’ before I took to me own bed.”
Fidgeting with a loose thread on the edge of her blanket, Anna shrugged. “I feel better. Nothin’ to worry over.” She paused. “But thank ye for comin’ to make sure.”
A weighted silence appeared between the siblings. Anna avoided looking at her brother, but she could feel his eyes on her, couldpracticallyhearthe questions he was deciding whether or not to ask. He had always been more perceptive than he let on, and though he liked to jest and jape, he had a talent for listening and taking care of his siblings when they needed him most.
“Out with it,” he said, after a moment. “What’s truly wrong with ye?”
She shook her head. “Nothin’—I told ye. I was dizzy from the dancin’ and thought I might be sick, but now I’m fine.”
“And I daenae believe ye,” he replied. “One moment, ye looked like ye were havin’ a grand time; the next, ye were runnin’ out of the hall like ye were bein’ chased by the English. Did Laird Lyall say somethin’ to ye? Did ye nae favor his style of dancin’? Did he say ye were too heavy or somethin’?”
Humor glimmered in Jackson’s eyes—more hazel than Anna’s green, with a dark ring around the irises—as he waited patiently for her to answer. Evidently, he wasn’t planning to leave her alone until she’d given him a satisfactory reply.
“He dinnae struggle at all, thank ye very much,” she retorted, mustering a playful tone that she didn’t feel. “And he neither said anythin’ nor danced in a way I dinnae care for. I left because I was dizzy, and I willnae say it again.”
