Page 6 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
In all her three-and-twenty years, Anna had never seen anyone make her father nervous. But she knew her father well enough to know that it was taking every shred of strength he possessed to maintain a semblance of confidence, of equal power.
“Jane, see to it that a room is prepared for Laird Lyall,” Thomas instructed.
“Aye, M’Laird. At once.” The maid bowed her head and skirted around the hulking figure of Laird Lyall, not daring to meet his eye as she ran off to fulfill her orders.
Watching the scene, Anna had to wonder if something had been said to the maid, or if it was merely the Devil’s appearance that had made her so anxious.
Aye, well ye willnae see that fear from me,Anna vowed, pushing back her chair with an obnoxious shriek of wood on stone. She had already decided that this man would not have a hope of becoming her husband, imagining the satisfaction of seeing such a formidable beast chased away from Castle MacTorrach, wailing in terror. Why, if she could frightenhimoff, she could frighten any man off.
If I can manage it, I might nae have to do anythin’ to chase away the others. They might just… follow his lead and leave, and I can return to me peace and solitude as an utterly unmarriageable lass.It was a delicious thought, and one that bolstered Anna’s hopes and determination.
With her head held high, she made her way to the newcomer, standing defiantly in front of him. Putting on a saccharine smile, she put her hand out. “I’m Anna,” she said bluntly. “If ye’re here for the auction, ye should probably ken whose hand ye’re here to claim.”
Her father glanced at her in alarm, a glint in his eyes suggesting that he, too, did not want her to marrythisman. Perhaps, Thomashadlearned something from the fate of his middle daughter, Elinor, after all. It would look bad for him if he had two daughters married to the wickedest Lairds in the Highlands—the Lairds no one else wanted their daughters to wed.
“Anna…” Thomas warned. “There is a time and a place for intro?—”
The Devil seized Anna’s hand and wrenched it up to his mouth, kissing the back of it roughly, though his lips were surprisingly soft against her skin.
“I ken who ye are,” he growled, letting her hand drop.
His voice was so deep that it seemed to vibrate into Anna’s chest, as resonant as thunder, or stormy waves crashing against a cliffside. For reasons she couldn’t explain, it reminded her of the rolling of drums, beating out an ominous rhythm.
The Devil stared down at Thomas once more. “Let us discuss what I’m willin’ to pay for her.”
“Money?” Anna blurted out, getting in ahead of her father. “Och nay, M’Laird, it seems ye daenae quite understand.”
She allowed a bold laugh to leave her dry throat, fully aware that men like him didn’t take kindly to being chuckled at. But, perhaps, that would help her to run him out of the contest before he had even made an attempt to compete.
The Devil turned his one good eye back to her, with a look so cold she could feel the ice prickling through her veins. “Explain,” he said gruffly.
“Well, M’Laird, our clan is one of the wealthiest in the Highlands,” Anna pretended to boast. “We have sturdy alliances, we have plenty of trade and prosperity, we have a considerable army. This is not an auction of material value, but of… missin’ pieces that will strengthen our legacy even further.”
Thomas leaped in. “What she means is, this will be…”
“Letherexplain,” the Devil shot back, Thomas falling silent immediately, clamping his lips together as his head bowed.
Anna might’ve delighted in the sight, if it didn’t mean that the Devil’s attention was fully concentrated on her. She didn’t know what to say; she hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he was waiting, and she could tell he wasn’t someone who liked to be kept in suspense.
“This is an auction in name alone,” she replied, finding her voice again. “In truth, it is destined to be more of a… tournament.”
She cringed inwardly, realizing she had just lost the advantage that she had decided with her father not five minutes ago. The Lairds weren’t supposed to know that they were in the midst of a competition for her hand. They were supposed to make their appeals to her father, give their offers, and see who would emerge triumphant at the end.
Now, at least one of them knew that the rules had changed.
But Laird Lyall’s expression didn’t change at all as he replied, “A tournament?” His broad shoulders shrugged as if the notion bored him. “Fine. Then who do I have to kill for yer hand?”
CHAPTER 4
Gordon sawthe lass flinch at his words, her green eyes widening, her lips—pink as a summer raspberry—parting in shock.
What’s the misunderstandin’ now?he wanted to ask, but said nothing, observing her instead. She was not as David had described her, when he had informed his Laird that there was to be an auction for the hand of the last eligible Lane girl.
“I hear she’s a plain thing, which is why she’s three-and-twenty and without a husband,”the Man-at-Arms had explained.“Nae a beauty like the other two, nae particularly fine of form or character, but… well, ye ken what they say about the lasses in that family.”
Gordon hadn’t known what “ they” said about the lasses in that family, but David had duly explained that they were famed for their fertility, all through the maternal lineage, as far back as anyone cared to trace them.
“An ideal lass for a Laird in want of an heir, with some urgency,”David had concluded.
