Page 4 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
“And yet,” Alexander countered, “it is what yer braither wanted.”
“I dinnae understand. He was very particular about me never returnin’. He tortured me, and ye all watched. It isnae as if I ever expected him to want me back.”
Alexander sighed, stepping forward, his gaze earnest.
“For what it’s worth, and that’s nae much, I am sorry for what happened. I should have realized she was duplicitous and that ye would never have betrayed yer braither. Moira could be very convincin’.”
“Aye, ye’re tellin’ me.”
“Angus was me Laird, and me loyalty always lay with him,” Alexander stated softly.
Callum knew he was right, but it didn’t make the memories any easier to stomach.
“Aye. Fine. Well, then, let’s hope ye will be as loyal tome. Now tell me what exactly happened.”
Alexander placed his hands behind his back, his expression filling with a mixture of sorrow and anger.
“He found out ye were tellin’ the truth, M’Laird. Letters from Lady Moira that she had written to ye, confessin’ her feelin’s. She wrote that you’d rejected her time and again, and she asked ye why. Angus was ragin’. I have nae seen him so angry before. He sent Moira to her faither and told us to bring ye back. His heart failed him before he got to see ye.”
There was an ache forming behind Callum’s eyes, a throbbing that would not cease.
So, me braither forgave me, and died before he could tell me to me face.
“Sent her back to her faither? So now I can expect a war, too?”
Alexander said nothing, the weight of the consequences of Angus’s actions weighing heavily in the room.
Moira’s father was a brutal man, and his daughter was his whole world. Callum knew that if she could manipulate anyone, it would be her father above all.
“The girls need someone to raise them,” he said in exasperation. “I’m nae a faither, I never pretended to be! What was Angus thinkin’?”
Callum stared around him at the wide, empty room, so filled with his brother’s presence it felt oppressive just to exist within it.
“Have ye heard of these auctions that take place around the Highlands every year?” he asked, barely able to believe the levels he was stooping to.
Alexander shifted his weight as he bowed his head.
“Nay this year, me Laird. But Ihaveheard of such an auction in London…”
CHAPTER 2
“I would behappy to furnish you with anything from five to ten thousand pounds for your daughter’s hand, Your Grace. I have a substantial estate in Buckinghamshire and would not be against negotiating a portion of it as part of our agreement.”
Lydia Turner listened to the simpering tones of the lord speaking to her father and fought the urge to charge through the curtain and hurl red wine in his face.
“A generous offer, Lord Kingston, but I am sure you know how many men are here tonight. I shall keep it in mind, and may the best man win!”
Lydia could barely open her mouth; her jaw was clenched so tightly. She couldn’t stand to listen to her father’s hateful voice for another moment.
He had been appalling all day, pontificating about the eligibility of the men he had managed to “arrange” for her. The very thought made her sick.
Not only that, but her mother had abandoned her. She had been alone for almost half an hour, forced to walk through the room like a prize in front of all the disgusting old men her father had invited.
All this because he wishes to be rid of me. Is a daughter really such a burden?
But Lydia knew she could not hide forever; her father was sure to root her out sooner or later, and she did not wish to be found hiding like a child.
Reluctantly, she walked out from behind the curtain as discreetly as she could, gasping at the stifling heat of the room.
