Page 7 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
And when Anna had boldly introduced herself to Gordon, regardless of what he had said, hehadbeen surprisedthat she was the one he was there to claim. He had been anticipating a plain, unassuming, bland sort of woman.
The woman standing before him was anything but: neither tall nor short, with a shapely figure that moved with sinuous grace, enhanced by a simple, elegant day gown with a tight bodice, gauzy collar, and billowing skirts that gathered at her pleasing hips and cascaded to the floor.
Her ripe, full bosom rose and fell with the quickening of her breaths, betraying her fear in his presence. It hadn’t been there a moment ago, not on the surface anyway.
“Everythin’ will be illuminated in due course,” Laird MacTorrach interjected, wringing his hands. “There’s nay need for anyone to draw swords at present.”
Gordon didn’t look at the man, continuing to examine Anna. She was beautiful by any man’s standards, certainly more beautiful than any lass he had seen in a long while, with long, red hair that shone like burnished copper, held back from her face by a silver circlet.
Her eyes were an unusual shade of green, the color of rosemary leaves; her cheeks were round and rosy, her complexion still wearing the olive echo of an uncommonly hot summer—darkerthan most grand ladies cared to be, with a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and just one at the right peak of her upper lip’s deep bow.
Anna took a deliberate breath, her head tilting slightly to one side as she looked back at him. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was curiosity in her eyes, replacing the fear from before.
All of a sudden, she smiled broadly, her entire face coming alive as if someone had lit a candle within her. “Ye must be tired from yer journey here, M’Laird,” she said brightly. “We wouldnae be particularly benevolent hosts if we had ye duelin’ the moment ye arrived. While the maids are preparin’ a room for ye, I think I’ll show ye around the gardens. There’s no better place for someone to relax in body and mind.”
Before he could offer either rejection or acceptance of her offer, she darted past him and slipped out of the door. Apparently, with the expectation that he was supposed to follow.
Unaccustomed to being told what to do, but remembering his purpose for being there, he grunted in Laird MacTorrach’s direction and went after Anna at his own pace. The last thing he would do was run to catch up to her. After all, he suspected she was already waiting for him, somewhere out in the hallway.
As he’d thought, she was a short distance up the hall, waiting.
He continued toward her at an indifferent pace, looking ahead as she fell in step beside him, leading him more or less back the way he’d come already.
Should I say somethin’?
He was not in the habit of wooing, nor did he have the faintest notion of how to win a lass’s favor. He’d spent his formative years coming to terms with the murder of his father and brother, and the ensuing loss of his mother, struggling to keep his head above water as he found himself, brutally and unexpectedly, as Laird of Lyall.
Between managing the prosperity and safety of a clan, leading his men into battle against those who thought they could take what was his, and honing his ability to defend his lands as well as himself, there had been no time for learning the art of courtship. If there was an “ itch” to be scratched, a willing lass was acquired for him, requiring no effort whatsoever in terms of flirtation or seduction.
They’d just crossed the entrance hall, turning left down a passage instead of right through the doors and back out into the courtyard, when Anna took the burden of speech onto herself.
“Would ye really want to kill someone to marry me?” she asked, peering up at him, her neck straining with the effort.
“It’s nae a matter of want,” he replied brusquely.
“But… ye would?”
He didn’t look back down at her. “If I have to.”
She stopped abruptly, partway down the passage. Her hands came to rest on her hips, that earlier confidence returning to her green eyes.
“Ye should ken, I abhor violence,” she announced, as if it mattered. “I cannae even bear to see a snail crushed underfoot by accident.”
He slowed, turning. “I daenae care.”
“Ye daenae care?” She raised an eyebrow. “Are ye nae supposed to, since ye’re here to win me hand? Ye stand a greater chance if ye also win me favor.”
He took a step toward her. “Violence is sometimes necessary.”
It doesnae matter if ye like it or nae. Indeed, there are few in this world whodolike violence, but there are plenty who must use it anyway.He saw no reason to elaborate upon what should have been perfectly obvious. Unless, of course, she thoughthewas one of the few who liked violence for the sake of it.
Anna sighed, folding her arms across her chest. “Look, this auction—such as it is—is formehand in marriage. Ye daenae have to impress me faither, though I’ve nay doubt many will try, but yedohave to impress me.”
“False flattery?” He tilted his head from side to side, his neck knotted from the journey. “I willnae seduce ye, so daenae expect it.”
Anna’s throat bobbed, her already rosy cheeks darkening to a deeper red. “I wouldnae ask such a thing!” She turned her face away, smoothing down the front of her skirts as if she didn’t trust her hands. “As such, I’ll pretend I dinnae hear that, and consider them the ill-judged words of a weary traveler.”
“I’m nae weary,” he replied in a gruff voice. “I just daenae play foolish games.”
