Page 5 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
Indeed, getting him to agree to her having a say in her own future was just the first step. What came after was still in the experimental, contemplative stages: a plan half-formed.
Thomas sighed wearily, but before he could respond, a maid came through the doors of the Great Hall and bowed her head.
“Speak,” Thomas instructed.
The maid raised her head. “The first of the Lairds has arrived, M’Laird.”
Now rushed into a decision by that news, Thomas glanced at Anna and pursed his lips, giving a resigned shrug. “Very well. As long as ye picksomeoneby the end of the auction, ye may have yer say in the decision. But if ye daenae pick anyone or if ye play foolish games, ye’ll marry whoeverIchoose by the end of the week. Am I understood?”
Anna suppressed a triumphant smile, bowing her head as if she were a demure and obedient daughter. “Of course, Faither.” She paused. “But ye should really stop callin’ it an auction. Now, it’s more of a tourney.”
“Aye, but the Lairds daenae need to ken that,” her father replied, raising an eyebrow as if he had had an inspired thought of his own. “It will remain an auction, at least to them. They need nae ken that their every movement and word is bein’ scrutinized by ye. In a way, that’ll be better for us all—we’ll all see their true nature, as they are.”
Anna had to concede that itwouldbe for the best if the Lairds were unaware that it had become more of a competition of character, rather than fortune or merit. Although, of course, she wasn’t planning to heed her father’s warning about playing no games. Indeed, evenhedidn’t know of the tests she was about to conjure, forming a competition all her own for these men to compete in.
A competition that, if all went well,no onewould win.
“I mean it, Anna,” her father said. “Am I understood?”
“Perfectly, Faither.” She smiled sweetly, refusing to catch Jackson’s eye; he was the only one out of all of them who could see right through her.
The maid cleared her throat, drawing Thomas’ attention back to her. “Apologies, M’Laird, but… the Laird who has arrived… shall I tell him to come in?”
It was at that moment that Anna noticed the fear upon the maid’s face. Jane was usually a bonny lass with a cheery demeanor, but the maid had turned rather pale, her demeanor agitated, wringing her hands as if she was trying to twist away an uncomfortable feeling.
“Why are ye tremblin’, Jane?” Anna blurted out, unable to suppress her own unease. “Who is this Laird?”
The door opened behind the maid, a towering bear of a man entering without Thomas’ permission.
A strained gasp slipped from Anna’s mother’s throat, her face blanching as she whispered, “It’s him… It’s the Devil of the Highlands.”
CHAPTER 3
Like any youngwoman in Scotland, Anna had heard stories about the Devil of the Highlands. He was a cautionary tale to keep daughters in line, fathers threatening to send their wayward girls to that wicked man if they wouldn’t do as they were told.
But there was more to him than fairytales; his very real exploits in battle were infamous, discussed by councilmen in hushed voices, accompanied by prayers that the Devil would never turn his sights ontheirterritories.
He's as large as they say…Anna eyed him, startled by the sheer size of the newcomer.
He was taller than any man she had seen in real life, his head just skimming the lintel of the Great Hall’s doors, with shoulders so broad that he seemed to fill the doorway. He wore a saffron-colored shirt, dampened by the drizzle of rain outside, and a kilt in the colors of his clan.
The thin fabric of the former hinted at the shape of dense, sculpted muscle: a mighty chest and a ridged abdomen, with arms as thick as her considerable thighs. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal corded forearms, marked with scars, and hands so large that if he were to put them around her waist, they would’ve touched easily, overlapping.
She shook that thought away quickly, uncertain of why it had even crept into her head. Why would she ever imagine such a man’s hands around her waist? Indeed, he was more likely to crush her ribs than to hold her in any sort of… tender fashion. And she couldn’t imagine him being much of a dancer, considering his size. He wasn’t what anyone would have described as graceful, clearly someone who relied on brute force over elegance.
He might have put a comb through his hair,she mused with some trepidation, noting his unruly dark waves that fell past his shoulders.
He had probably been extraordinarily handsome once, with a strong jaw and chin, faintly stubbled, and cheekbones so sharp she could have sliced a boiled potato with them if she had misplaced her knife; his lips were full, and his one eye was a striking, wolf-like shade of icy gray, but his obvious beauty had been chipped away by the multitude of scars that slashed this way and that across his face. As if he had wanted to ruin his beauty with those marks of violence, exchanging handsome good looks for the infamy of a formidable warrior.
I wonder what happened to his eye.There was a leather patch across his left eye, adding to the fearsome quality of him, making him emanate a feeling of danger, as if he shouldn’t be approached under any circumstances.
Thomas, however, didn’t seem to feel that radiation of trouble, as he stood up and went to greet the Devil.
“Laird Lyall,” Anna’s father said stiffly, extending a hand. “I wasnae expectin’ yer attendance at the auction.”
The Devil stared at Thomas. “Is there a problem with that?”
“What? Nay, of course nae,” Thomas hurried to reply, setting Anna’s already bristling nerves on edge. “It’s just that… I dinnae receive word from ye, but, certainly, ye are welcome here for this auspicious occasion.”
