Page 34 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
Indeed, as her laughter faded into softer chuckles, she wondered if she’d been wrong to tell him that he needed to make her laugh, when it was quite obvious thatsheneeded to be the one to makehimlaugh. Everyone was capable of laughter; he couldn’t be the world’s sole exception.
“Get some rest,” he said, moving to close the door.
“M’Laird?” she called to him.
He paused, eyebrow raised. “I asked ye nae to call me that.”
“Very well.” Anna took a breath. “Gordon?”
“What?”
She smiled. “It counts.”
CHAPTER 17
The restof the journey passed without incident, the hours blurring by, the light fading, the moon coming out as the skies cleared and the rain ceased. Gordon noticed none of it, lost in the storm of his thoughts.
Why does she keep smilin’ at me, laughin’ at me?
He was beginning to grow concerned that she didn’t quite understand the terms of what a marriage to him would mean. She’d have liberties, she’d be involved in his council—such as it was—but her behavior suggested she sought something less… practical.
This “ learning about one another” business would only disappoint her.
She thinks me a diamond in the rough, that if she shines me up and gives me a polish I’ll be somethin’ I’m nae.
It had taken such great effort for him to find the words to put her at ease earlier, making that supposed jest about the meal and the hand he’d cut off. Yet, she’d savored it, glowed with the promise of what it might mean, her eyes alight with the expectation of more of the same.
I’m nae gentle, lass. I’m nae amusin’, nae entertainin’, nae prone to good humor. If it’s a fairytale ye want, lass, ye’ve mistaken the hero.
The princess didn’t choose the monster, unless he was a prince in disguise. Gordon certainly wasn’t that.
Even when his thoughts turned to the matter of heirs, and how he and Anna would create them, his mind wandered to dark, wild places. He’d sworn it would be a perfunctory act, devoid of his tastes, but his imagination had other ideas. He saw himself in complete control of her, exploring and enjoying her in ways that would make a harlot gasp, walking a delicate line between pleasure and pain, teasing her until she couldn’t bear it, withholding though she begged, until he finally rewarded her obedience with the hard thrust of his…
A sound dragged him from his fevered reverie, drifting across the night-darkened fields and moors toward him. A sound that knocked his concerns aside, soothing him like healer’s medicine: the rumble and whisper of the sea, crashing against the cliffs.
Home.
The small entourage began the ascent to the rocky castle half an hour later, only a few flickers of candlelight giving away its location. Without them, anyone looking across the landscape would just see the cliffs, unaware that the Lyall stronghold was there at all.
“Open the gates!” Gordon shouted up to the concealed guard towers, the winding cliff path ending at the iron bars of the castle entrance. “Yer Laird has returned!”
Faces appeared above, cast in torchlight, voices mingling with the steady drumming of the waves far below. A moment later, the shriek of metal on metal heralded the Laird of Lyall’s triumphant return.
By the time Gordon and the two carriages had come to a standstill in the main courtyard, a crowd had gathered: castle residents in their nightclothes, come to see the miracle for themselves. Amongst them, moving forward, was Gordon’s uncle Matthew and his cousin.
“Ye only just left,” Matthew said with a grin, clapping his nephew on the shoulder. “How can ye be back so soon?”
Gordon shrugged. “I dinnae need to stay any longer.”
“Did ye get what ye went for?” Gordon’s m an-at-a rms asked, joining the family at the front of the crowd.
Gordon arched an eyebrow. “I dinnae just bring two extra carriages for me own amusement.”
“Well, where is she?” Sophia chirped, craning her neck to get a better look. Rather, the first look at the potential new Lady of Lyall.
“Dinnae crowd her,” Gordon warned, searching the faces for his other uncle, on his mother’s side. “Where’s Beathan? Still abed?”
Matthew shook his head. “Trouble at Castle MacScott. Skirmishers again. Went with a few of his best, but I daenae expect it’ll be long before he returns.”
