Page 10 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
“My Laird,” her mother said as she reached him. She bobbed a curtsy, but her eyes were cold and assessing.
“Duchess.”
His voice was so deep it reverberated through Lydia’s entire being.
“Would you care to stay the night?” her mother asked. “You are welcome to do so until your return to Scotland.”
“I cannae be away from the clan,” he said stiffly. “I shall send coaches for Lady Lydia. They can bring whatever she needs with her. Trunks, maids, anything she requires. The castle is a big place.”
“Castle?” Lydia asked weakly, gazing up at him as if in a dream.
Whatever have I agreed to? I do not know this man, and he is whisking me halfway across the country to a world of strangers.
“Aye, a castle. As I say, it is a big place,” his eyes scanned over the walls of the house around him, and Lydia almost laughed at the look of derision that formed on his face.
Her father puffed out his chest, looking scandalized.
“Are you sure we cannot have you stay even for one night, My Laird? We have space for your carriage in our stables and?—”
“I have nay carriage. I rode here, and I shall ride back.”
“At night? Onhorseback?” Lydia’s mother asked, and there was something in her voice that sounded almost like awe.
“Aye.” The Laird didn’t smile. Lydia wondered if he even could.
“I will be able to provide my daughter with a carriage. You do not need to supply one,” her father began, but the Laird raised a hand. Lydia wasn’t sure if it was deliberate, but his wide palm ended up no more than an inch from her father’s nose.
“My future wife needs nothin’ from ye, Yer Grace.” The way he saidyour gracemade it sound like an insult. “I shall see to everythin’.”
The Laird reached out a hand toward Lydia, and without conscious thought, she took it. His huge fingers closed around her palm, twisted it gently, and bent to kiss the back of her hand. A zing of awareness passed over her skin at the contact.
Then Laird Murray straightened, his expression cold and fierce once more. Turning to her father, the Laird gave the Duke such a look of contempt that Lydia almost feared for his life.
“She is mine now, or have ye forgotten?” his gaze moved to Lydia. “I shall see ye soon.”
CHAPTER 4
“Raise the gates!”
As Callum rode into the castle, his rump was aching from days in the saddle, and he was desperate for a dram of whiskey.
Although acquiring his bride had been remarkably easy, his time in London had left him irritable and out of sorts.
Lydia Turner’s father seemed to possess fewer scruples than anyone Callum had yet met. The arrogance of the man had been staggering.
But at least I have a wife coming to me now. I have someone who can give the wee ones the life they deserve.
His horse slowed to a trot, snorting loudly and champing at the bit, eager for his feed and rest.
Callum patted him on the neck. He was the same horse that had taken him away from this castle after Angus’s betrayal, and was the only other constant in his life.
At eighteen hands, he was enormous, cantankerous, and had a wild gleam in his eyes that warned lesser men to keep their distance.
“Stop your mitherin’, Seamus,” Callum murmured, scratching the horse’s sweaty neck as he dismounted.
The stable hand, a beefy man and as wide as he was tall, watched Seamus warily.
“Dinnae mind him,” Callum said gruffly. “Ye will feed him, and he’ll come to heel.”
