Page 18 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
“Well, then, ye are finally here,” he said a little more gently.
Lydia swallowed, forcing her eyes to remain on his face so she wasn’t caught staring again.
His forearms are the size of tree trunks.
“Yes,” she replied, meaning to continue speaking, but no more words came out.
“I am sure ye will wish to settle yerself. I have only brought ye here to lay out me rules.”
“Rules?” Lydia asked nervously.
“Aye. When I said I would take ye away from that life, ye asked me what I wanted from ye in return, remember?”
Lydia plucked nervously at her sleeve.
“Yes,” she said, her cheeks flushing furiously. “I assume you want an heir.”
CHAPTER 6
Callum blinked at her.
Well, I didnae expect that to come out of her wee mouth.
He shifted his weight, leaning his head to one side to look at her, enjoying the blush that covered her cheeks.
“Is that what ye think of me then?”
Lydia bit her lip, staring at the floor. “Is that not what every man wants when they marry?” she asked. Her voice was small suddenly, and he didn’t like the look in her eyes.
“Aye, many of them dae, but I am nay one of them.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, that I dinnae care for continuin’ me line. It isnae what I brought you here for. I want ye to raise me nieces for me.”
Her eyes grew round as saucers, her hand rising to cover her stomach as she absorbed his words.
Callum waited.
I am just grateful she doesnae act like every silly English woman and have hysterics at every request.
Lydia leaned back against the door behind her, her whole body appearing to deflate as her shoulders lowered in disbelief.
“Nieces?” she asked weakly. “How many nieces?”
He smirked. “Just the two. They arrived at the same time, ye see, just like me and me…” he bit his tongue before the words slipped out. “Well, never mind that now. It doesnae matter. All I ask, for ye to retain yer freedom, is that ye care for those wee girls.”
Her eyes had looked as green as a forest canopy when they had first met, but now they were bright as a grassy field in June. She contemplated him curiously, long eyelashes fluttering like butterflies.
Look away! Would you stop starin’ at her?
But his eyes wouldn’t obey the commands of his mind.
Her hair would likely have been tied neatly by her maid that morning, but the long journey had worked it loose.
A piece of it had slipped free behind her ear, and Callum’s fingers itched to curl it back into place.
“I understand,” she said, pushing herself off the door and squaring her shoulders like she was going into battle. “I love children and will do my best to make them happy.”
