Page 44 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
“Mad?” Anna gulped, wondering if Gordon’s bloodline warranted investigation. There were outliers in every family, ofcourse, but if there was a pattern then she wanted to know about it.Deservedto know about it.
The other woman giggled into her hand. “It’s just what I call him because he looks so furious. Does he nae?”
“Aye, he does look like the portraitist said somethin’ insultin’ just before he started paintin’,” Anna agreed, relaxing into a chuckle.
“If me history is correct, he wasnae a bad Laird,” Sophia continued, giving Anna the details of his reign as she moved to the next portrait and pulled the cord. “And this is Harold the Listless, for obvious reasons.”
Together, they moved around the beautiful gallery, Anna weeping with laughter as Sophia toldherversion of each former Laird, each name more amusing, more mischievous than the last, each tale of their endeavors becoming more ridiculous and outlandish. Anna relished every moment, feeling a thousand times lighter than when she’d left Gordon’s study.
So, it was rather jarring when Sophia pulled the second-to-last cord, revealing a smiling man with a twinkle in his gray eyes, and she didnotoffer any silly name or raucous tidbit.
“This is me uncle, Gregor,” she said instead, her voice catching. “I never kenned him, but people still talk of his kindness, his humor, his generosity, his courage. A lot like me faither. Runs in the blood, nay doubt.”
She moved on quickly, pulling the cord to the last unrevealed portrait.
“This lad ought to be familiar,” she said, stepping to the side.
Anna held her breath as she stared up at the final portrait: the current Laird of Lyall. Yet, if she’d wandered past it by chance, she might not have recognized it as the man she was betrothed to, the man who had done such wondrous things in the study, the man thatshehad drawn as a monster.
The man in the gilded frame seemed to observe her in return with two shining gray eyes, his expression a degree warmer than she was accustomed to. His lips weren’t smiling, but there was, perhaps, a slight quirk to the left side, as though hemightsmile at any moment. And though the features were the same as the man she knew—that strong jaw, those sharp cheekbones, that sloping nose, that full mouth—something seemed off… a distortion she couldn’t quite place.
Nay scars,she realized a moment later.Nay scars and two eyes.
“How young was he when this was done?” she asked, her hand resting on her chest, where her heart thudded a little faster.
Sophia shrugged. “It must be a decade old. He was, maybe, three-and-twenty.”
“His eye,” Anna said softly, the question sticking in her throat for a moment. “When did he… start wearin’ the patch?”
Making an odd sound, between a cough and a hum, Sophia fidgeted with the cuffs of her billowing sleeves. “Nae so long ago.”
“Does he… have an eye underneath it or is it gone?”
Sophia hesitated, before shaking her head. Although they had only just met, Anna sensed that that shake of Sophia’s head was the answer, not a dismissal of the question.
“What happened?” Anna pressed.
“If ye have questions,” a low voice interrupted, making Anna flinch, “ye daenae ask anyone but me.”
Gordon hadn’t meant to happen upon Anna and his cousin, but, after the events in his study, he had needed to find a place where no one would bother him. A sanctuary to clear his thoughts which, for obvious reasons, his study could no longer fulfill in that regard.
He had considered turning around and leaving, never letting either know he had been there, but the moment he heard Anna asking about his eye, the choice had been made for him.
“Gordon, I—” Sophia began to say, but he cut her off with a motion of his head.
Offering an apologetic smile and a reassuring pat on the shoulder to Anna, Sophia pulled the cord, the fabric swinging back across the portrait. With that, she hurried out, leaving Anna and Gordon alone in the gallery.
“I dinnae realize I wasnae allowed to be curious in the company of others,” Anna said, her tone immediately defensive. “Am I nae allowed to visit yer library and read the histories of yer family, either?”
Gordon approached, grateful that Sophia had hidden that portrait from view. He had never liked it, even when it had more accurately reflected his appearance.
“I was just interested,” Anna added, a note softer.
Glancing at the other portraits that hadn’t been covered, feeling the gaze of his ancestors, Gordon took a breath. “Someone tried to kill me. I lived; it cost me an eye. That’s it. The story isnae exceptional.”
Anna nodded slowly. “I’m… sorry if ye thought I was pryin’, and I’m sorry for nae askin’ ye directly. I wasnae sure that I could but, now that ye’ve made that clear, I’ll be conscious of it in the future.” She paused. “Truly, I’m sorry. I meant nay offense.”
“None taken,” he replied simply, turning to leave.
