Page 1 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
CHAPTER 1
“And why should I go back?”Callum growled.
He glared at Duncan as the man rocked on the balls of his feet in front of his desk.
“Because they need ye, M’Laird.”
Callum grunted through his teeth, looking through the window of his study and out to the ruined castle beyond—the crumbling remnants of his life.
“Is that so?” he snarled. “Me braither almost killed me and tried to take both me eyes. No one in that clan defended me. No one. Me own braither believed me capable of takin’ his wife behind his back, all based on her word. Me whole life ruined by a lie.”
“I ken, M’Laird, but think of the wee ones.”
Callum’s gut clenched at those words. That wasallhe had been thinking about since the letter arrived.
Just seeing his brother’s spiked, unruly hand again had almost brought him to his knees.
Angus had not been in touch since Callum had left their home four years before. Now, his brother was asking him to return, and he had not even given Callum a reason.
“I am meant to jump to his biddin’, is that it? Left to rot in this decaying heap for an eternity while he chose to cut me from his life, and now heneedsme.” He scoffed. “He should be glad I havenae been driven mad by it all.”
“Aye, sir,” Duncan said slowly. “So ye have said before.”
Callum glanced at him and thought he saw disappointment in the old servant’s eyes.
“Ye think I should return, is that it?” he asked. “Ye want a fresh start, too? A new home where the bricks dinnae fall on yer head as ye sleep?”
“It isnae up to me, M’Laird,” Duncan said patiently, but the words felt weighted. “I have nay doubt that ye will dae the right thing.”
The old man placed the letter on the edge of Callum’s desk and turned to leave the room. His back was crooked and bent over onone side, but his dark brown eyes were sharp and calculating. He may be a servant, but he was an intelligent and forthright man.
Callum wished Duncan were as stupid and as bitter as his master. Then he might have suggested they get drunk instead.
How much whiskey have I had this week? Nae enough.
He reached across the desk and plucked the letter from where it lay. A pool of water was beginning to form beside it from a drip in the ceiling, and there was a howling gale blowing outside, the rain coming down in sheets. He glanced up at the growing stain above his head.
Maybe we willnae need to fix that after all.
Grunting, he opened the letter, trying to harness the old hatred for his brother, letting it flow through him again. Maybe that would drown out his curiosity at the summons, and he would convince Duncan they should stay here.
His fingers moved to his face, running over the scars that skittered in jagged lines down his cheeks.
An inch to the left or right, and Angus would have taken me eyes. Should I be grateful to him for that?
He threw the letter down, rising from his slumped position in his chair, and turned to face the window.
The hills of the highlands stretched out before him beneath the raging, dark gray sky. He wished he were out in it, screaming into the wind as he had done many times over the years.
Callum had not left this castle, except to hunt and fish, since the day he had arrived. He had seen no one and entertained no one, spending all his time in the gray, ghostly company of Duncan and his wife Isla.
Maybe it wouldnae be so bad to escape these tumbling walls.
Spinning in place, he marched to the door, pulling it open as he stepped into the corridor.
Duncan’s gait was such that he had barely made it ten feet away from the study, and the old man turned, raising his eyebrows in query as Callum reached him.
“How are they?” Callum muttered.
