Page 99 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
“I am,” Lydia stated clearly, sticking out her chin in defiance.
“Moira Lawson isnae someone who will stand by her word, M’Lady.”
“Be that as it may, but I have to try,” she said, her lips thinning. “Besides, I was not persuaded to act otherwise.”
Kristen shook her head. “That Laird. What are we to dae with him?” She rolled her eyes. “He reminds me of my Alexander.”
Lydia looked up. “How so?”
“Och, he was just the same when we first met. He didnae want me to ken he cared for me. Pretended to like plenty of other girls in the village. But then he only ever spent any time with me. I could tell he wasnae interested in anyone else.”
“How?”
“By the way he looked at me,” Kristen met her gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. “Callum looks at ye the same way. Dinnae let him fool ye, M’Lady. He doesnae want ye to leave.”
Lydia’s eyes moved to the door, a weight settling in her stomach.
“Then why is it you are here and not him?”
The faint smile on Kristen’s face faded, and she gave a half-shrug of frustration before shaking her head.
Lydia checked the room and went to her bedside table, collecting the book of poems that her mother had given her.
Holding the soft leather in her hand reminded her of all the books in the library that she was yet to read. The library where Callum had first shown her he cared for her—even in a small way.
Clutching the book against her chest, she left the room, Kristen following behind her as she descended the stairs.
She could hear the snort of the horses outside as the carriage pulled up and paused in the entrance hall, wondering if Callum might come to see her off.
But there was no movement from anywhere, save for the ghostly shapes of the servants at the edges of the room.
Lydia held back tears as she headed down the steps of the castle, Kristen standing at the top of the steps. The two women exchanged a brief embrace before she went down to the carriage.
As she reached it, two servants lifted her trunk onto the back shelf as the driver climbed up in position. Lydia looked up at the view ahead, staring into the distant hills that had felt so like her new home.
Clenching her fist, she put one hand on the door handle, extending her foot to climb into the dark space before her.
“Wait!”
Lydia’s heart stuttered as she turned to see Callum descending the steps. His léine was loose and flapping around him as the wind picked up, a pure triangle of skin visible through the untied string at the neck.
But as he approached her, his face was a mask of anger and pain.
“Take the carriage back inside!” he barked to the servants, who stood watching him, frozen in place.
“Do not follow that order,” Lydia said to them sharply, and the two men exchanged an uncertain glance.
“Ye willnae tell me how to command me own servants, woman, ye are nae leavin’ this castle.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
At first, she had been elated that he was asking her to stay. But now it was obvious that this was not the case. He wascommandingher to remain, giving her no agency or choice, just as her father did.
“Get back inside,” he snapped.
“And what would that achieve?”
“Ye cannae leave like this, Lydia. Be reasonable!”
