Page 10 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
This was theSilent Death.
CHAPTER 3
Ciaran enteredthe auction hall and already regretted that he had allowed this to happen in the first place.
The whole thing struck him as practically absurd. Marriage was a private duty, oroughtto have been, settled with clear terms and with as little noise as possible. Instead, the very act of choosing a wife had been turned into some kind of ceremony. He knew Isobel had something to do with the auction. The plan had her name written all over it. But he knew better than to discourage her. She would probably come up with something much more absurd if he had.
The room was full of watchful faces and quiet hunger he recognized all too well. Fathers who had rejected his requests now wanting advantage, and women arranged under careful light as if they were pieces of fabric he had been asked to choose from at the dressmaker’s.
He wanted it done, and he wanted it done as quickly as possible.
Nothing in him had come there to be softened. He did not want charm. He did not want sweetness. He did not want the sort of warm, hopeful gaze that asked him for more than he was ready to provide.
This would be nothing but a marriage of convenience. He needed a wife who could fulfill her duties, bear what needed bearing, and leave the rest untouched.
That was all marriage was for anyway.
The crowd shifted as he moved further inside. He could feel the attention gather and travel with him, no matter how hard people tried to pretend otherwise. The servants kept to the walls, and the clan representatives stood with their hands folded and their eyes too sharp to be merely just for politeness' sake. The women themselves were gathered in an orderly line that did little to disguise the fact that they were being measured.
He disliked the spectacle, but not enough to leave without choosing. He had delayed the matter long enough. He would end it today and be free of it.
Then his gaze caught, briefly and against his will, on a flushing lass standing at the very corner of the hall.
She stood among the others, but his eyes found her first in a way that annoyed him at once.
He did not care for the fact that he noticed the red hue in her cheeks, or the tension in the set of her mouth, or the way she held herself as though the floor beneath her might yet betray her.
There were prettier women in the hall, perhaps. Better schooled ones, too. Yet something in her seemed to almost resist him for some reason.
That alone irritated him even further.
“Finally, Brother,” Isobel said, coming to greet him with enough brightness for both of them. “It has been a long time. Let us have some fun.”
He gave her a look that should have been answer enough.
Her smile wavered only a little. “Or at least let us conclude matters before ye sour the whole room.”
“I wasnae aware it had grown cheerful enough for me to spoil,” he muttered, his voice low but firm. It couldn’t go higher than that, and thankfully, it never had to. He had cultivated his reputation in a way that made people listen to him, no matter how strained he sounded.
Isobel huffed softly and stepped aside, though he caught her studying him as if she meant to judge his temper before the women did.
He had no interest in being managed. Least of all by his sister on a day already made vulgar by public scrutiny.
He turned his attention to the line.
One woman dropped her gaze the instant he moved closer and seemed so light in the knees he thought she might topple where she stood. He moved on to the next.
Another, introduced as Elsie, met his eyes with visible effort, brave enough perhaps, but the courage sat on top of near tears.
Too young.Too easily crushed.
He felt bad for her and even angry at her fool of a father or mother who had dressed her for this in the first place.
Further along, another woman smiled with a softness that made his mind close against her at once. Another lifted her chin in a way that was meant to look bold and only managed to look too eager instead. One more batted her lashes as though she mistook him for a man who could be coaxed into indulgence.
He found fault after fault, and the faults were not always faults in themselves. They were things that couldn’t be helped.
Youth.
