Page 68 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
“We were alone,” Anna replied. As if she hadn’t already thought of that.
“Have ye asked him outright why he did this?”
She nodded. “He said it was to prevent others from takin’ advantage of me.”
“Sounds to me like he’s had word from someone,” Jackson said, after a moment. “Someone wantin’ to claim ye for themselves. Either that, or what happened by the stream made him realizethat he wants ye to be his wife as soon as possible, so ye’ll be under his protection, his authority, his might. A Devil-ess of the Highlands, if ye will. There’s strength and power in bein’ a Lady, Anna, especially his.”
She blinked at her brother, astounded by the piece of the puzzle that she seemed to have missed. Gordon’s announcement of the weddinghadcome right after that incident, and though he hadn’t shown it or spoken about it, maybe it had rattled him in ways Anna couldn’t understand.
“I suggest ye start by talkin’ to him,” Jackson added with a smile. “Properly. Without lettin’ yer anger or confusion cloud yer mind. Vow it here and now that ye willnae leave wherever he is until ye have clarity on the matter.”
Anna sniffed. “Easier said than done when he doesnae want to be found. I really thought he’d be there at the supper, but… evidently nae.”
They’d waited almost an hour before eating, in the hopes that Gordon would appear in the Sea Hall to dine, but he hadn’t. Instead, a maid had been sent with a message that he was unfortunately occupied, and would not be joining them. By that point, the food had long gone cold, and so had Anna’s family’s enthusiasm.
He’s pushin’ me away, just as Beathan said.
But how far did Gordon actually want to push her? Did he want to push her away from the wedding entirely? Was that why he’dgone against her wishes, this one time—to push her as far from marrying him as possible? He was perceptive, he was clever, he was a military tactician; he must have known what would create doubt in her mind, enough to chase her off before the wedding could ever take place.
Is that it? Is that the truth of this? Has he… tricked me, the way I meant to trick all those Lairds?
Another piece of the puzzle seemed to fit, easing her confusion a little, but she wouldn’t know for certain unless she asked him.
“Ye’ll be the Lady of Lyall tomorrow,” Jackson said. “Use that power now to getsomeoneto talk. I mean, ye got an entire castle to play yer games and tricks when ye were at home—if anyone can get a person to reveal where Gordon is, it’s ye. Aye, I think it’s high time ye used some of that Anna charm before ye’re bound to the man in holy matrimony. And if ye daenae like the answers he gives, I mean it when I say I’ll get ye out of here before mornin’.”
Anna sat up a little straighter, pushing off on the armrests to bring herself to her feet, her shoulders back and her chin up. In all her life, she had never backed down from a challenge, determined always to do things her own way, and she wouldn’t be changing that now.
“Excuse me, Braither,” she said, flashing him a grin. “I have an estranged betrothed to find.”
CHAPTER 32
Gordon broughtthe hammer down hard on the length of glowing metal, sparks flying as he struck, flattening and strengthening the blade, determined to unify the mix of steel into one.
He’d smelted down the fragments of broken swords to craft this blade, taking all of his frustration and concern out on the slowly-forming weapon, pouring his troubles and the ghosts of the past into every powerful strike.
“M'Laird…” A breathless voice barely registered through Gordon’s concentration.
“What is it?” He didn’t turn, striking again.
The forge was his sanctuary: a place he had built several years ago, in the farthest reaches of the castle, in a ruined old tower that no longer served a purpose. A place where no one could bother him, at least in theory.
“News, M’Laird.” The door opened a little wider, a shadow dancing on the wall opposite Gordon. “I think… I think I got him.”
Gordon’s arm stilled, halfway to hitting the blade again. “Yegothim?”
“Nae exactly,” the voice replied, as Gordon’s focus shifted away from his work to the messenger.
He didn’t need to turn around to know it was David. Yet, even if he had wanted to, he found that he couldn’t turn to look at his m an-at-a rms.
For twenty years, Gordon had been haunted by the murder of his father, his brother, and the ensuing death of his mother. For twenty years, something had felt… unsolved, unfinished, despite witnessing the execution of the killers himself.
After his capture, he had discovered what that feeling was, and ever since, he had longed to hear a name, to put a face to the person who had taken so much from him.
But if he turned, he would hear it. If he turned, he feared that twenty years of pain would come crashing down on him. And so, he struck the blade again, his good eye barely flinching as sparks flew.
“Speak,” he growled, slamming the hammer down again.
David cleared his throat. “I have a man in the dungeons, M’Laird. He was the one ye hit with that rock.” He paused. “I daenae ken if it’ll be of any comfort to ye, but ye caught him in his eye. He’ll nae see out of it again.”
