Page 31 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
“Stop fussin’, woman,” he grumbled. “It is the rain. The water makes the blood look like it is flowin’ freely, when really it is just a scratch. I already told me man I didnae need anythin’. The bandages are unnecessary!”
“I will be the judge of that. Thank you, Alexander. I appreciate your help.”
Alexander bowed, that same little smile on his face, and the Laird glowered at him angrily as he led the maid away.
“It is a scratch.”
“Come in here, please, and sit on the chair,” she said as evenly and patiently as she could. He was so much bigger than her, and she didn’t feel comfortable commanding him, but he looked distracted, as if something else was troubling him besides his wound.
He is pretending it does not hurt for my benefit, but I can see that it does.
The Laird shuffled into the room, collapsing into a chair and almost extinguishing the fire with the waft of air he produced in the process.
Lydia observed him quietly as he stared ahead, looking furious.
“What is your name?” she asked forcefully.
He looked up at her in surprise. “What?”
“What is your name? Oh,Laird Murray.You didn’t tell me.”
He frowned at her. “Ye can just call me, M’Laird.”
Lydia put her hands on her hips. “Try again.”
“Everyone in this castle?—”
“Is not your future wife,” she interrupted. “Tell me your name or I shall only allow you to call me ‘M’Lady’ from now on.”
That seemed to get through to him, and with a sour expression, he muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Callum.”
She released a long breath of relief.Callum.What a strange name for this mountain of a person.
It meant calm and tranquility—that was not how she saw him. He was all rough edges and hard lines, but Lydia was pleased she could finally call him something other thanLaird.
“Callum,” she said, and he looked up at her with a strange look on his face. “Would you please remove your shirt so I can see to that cut?”
“It is a scratch.”
“Please,” she added a slight inflection to her voice, affecting the same begging tone she had used just before he kissed her.
What I was begging for, I shall never know.
She felt a bolt of satisfaction as a small shiver ran through him.
“Fine,” he said, his confidence and arrogance returning suddenly as he stood to his full height and pulled off his shirt without any more hesitation.
“Have at it, woman.”
Lydia only realized she was staring when he scoffed under his breath and remained standing.
His body was a work of art. Chiseled, strong muscles framed a chest that could have been carved from stone. His arms bulged in every direction with more muscles than she had known existed on a man.
The gentlemen she had met in the world of London society were soft and small in comparison.
