Page 36 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
Gordon looked to the more responsible of the two maids. “Take her up. See to it that her belongings are carried in and her maid is shown where everythin’ is.”
“Aye, M’Laird.” The maid curtseyed deeply.
Without another word or a parting look to the woman who might be his wife one day soon, Gordon took his leave, heading off in search of peace and quiet—some place where Anna was not.
“I’m sorry I was misinformed,” David said, swirling a glass of whiskey, sniffing the rich aroma before he sipped. “I truly wasnae told she was such a bonny lass.”
Gordon, who rarely partook in whiskey but was making an exception, cast his m an-at-a rms a sharp look. “Do better to check yer information next time.”
“Next time?” David chuckled, reclining in the study’s armchair as if it was his own. “It doesnae inspire much faith if ye’re already contemplatin’ yer next marriage. Och, with all thebattles we fight, she’ll be searchin’ for a new husband before ye have need of a new wife.”
Taking a sip of the peaty, smoky whiskey, Gordon waited until he felt the warmth of it slide down into his belly. “I mean in general, as ye well ken. What good is information if it’s incorrect?”
The study was stuffy with the heat of a roaring fire, prompting Gordon to rise from his chair, in front of his timeworn desk, and move toward the windows. He opened both, the latches shrieking, and closed his eye to the eager caress of the fresh, cool sea air.
The water lay still beneath moonlight, barely a whitecap to be seen.
“I suppose ye’ll want to start preparin’ for the weddin’,” David said, interrupting Gordon’s brief serenity. “How many can we expect from Castle MacTorrach? Truth be told, I daenae ken why ye dinnae marry her there and then, to save us the bother.”
Gordon took a deeper gulp of the whiskey. It raced like fire down his throat. Although he’d come to the study to get away from Anna, thoughts of her had followed him there. He found himself wondering how she was settling in, if she liked her chambers, if she was already considering returning to her home, if she’d realized—after one “ engagement” —that they were incompatible, after all.
I shouldnae have been so brusque. Indeed, I need her to end these five weeks as me bride.
“When will the weddin’ be, exactly?” David prodded.
“After this betrothal period,” Gordon replied. “Five weeks or so.”
With any luck.
David shifted in the armchair, the upholstery creaking. “Can I be frank with ye, M’Laird?”
“Me lack of permission has never stopped ye before.” Gordon continued to stare out at the millpond-still sea, curious as to what his m an-at-a rms was about to say.
David cleared his throat. “Ye ken I’m happy as anythin’ that ye’ve found yerself a lass to wed,” he began haltingly. “But are ye sure about all of this?”
“Ye were the one who suggested her.”
“Aye, I’m aware of that, but… in yer absence I’ve had a moment to think—which is new for me, I’ll admit,” David continued with a stiff laugh. “And I cannae help wonderin’ if it’s all a bit soon.”
Gordon turned, raising an eyebrow. “I’m three-and-thirty, David. If anythin’, it’s late.”
“That’s nae what I mean.” The Man-at-Arms raised his bulky frame, almost as large as his master’s, from the armchair andpaused awkwardly. “It’s just… I’m worried that this is merely a way to distract yerself from the real problem.”
Gordon returned his gaze to the calming gleam of the sea, while a tempest thrashed within him. He knew precisely what David was referring to: the cretins who had kidnapped him, taken his eye, and almost cost him his position. The one who’d orchestrated it all was still out there somewhere, getting away with it.
“The problemisthat I have nay heirs for the stability of me clan,” Gordon growled. “There is nay other concern.”
“So, ye’re nae at all bothered about that unknown enemy who tried to kill ye?” David replied tersely. “Ye were missin’ for an age, M’Laird. Nae to mention that they took ye from yer faither’s twentieth-year memorial celebrations—that wasnae a coincidence.”
Gordon clenched his whiskey glass so hard that it cracked. “Ye think I daenae ken that?”
“I think ye’re ignorin’ it because ye daenae want to be reminded,” David replied in a gentler tone. “But ithasto be the same person who killed yer faither and braither, and considerin’ what they attempted with ye, it seems to me that they’re nae willin’ to stop there, that they’ve had a renewed taste for endin’ yer bloodline.”
“The bastards who killed me faither and braither are dead,” Gordon rasped. “I heard their confession, watched Matthewexecute them; I saw their heads on the castle walls until just bone remained.”
And I ken they werejustlike the guards in that crumblin’ keep—mere heads of the hydra I cannae find.He wasn’t stupid; he’d put the pieces together too, but there was no use in hunting an enemy that had gone deep into hiding. The best thing he could do was to ensure that his bloodlinedidcontinue, whether he was removed from it or not.
“Subordinates, M’Laird,” David said, looking so afraid in the window’s reflection that Gordon almost pitied the man. “Yemustken that.”
