Page 20 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Ava listened as Isobel began speaking. Isobel did not pretend the last days had been fair or ask Ava to be noble about it. That helped more than an apology alone would have.
“I hate that ye feel cornered,” Isobel said quietly.
“Iamcornered,” Ava answered.
“Aye,” Isobel sighed. “Ye are.”
Rory made a low sound in his throat, displeased with the fact, even if he could not sweep it away by force of irritation. “And I dislike any matter that leaves me daughter speaking as though she has been boxed into a wall.”
That touched Ava more deeply than she let show. It meant her father’s love for her was so immediate and without question. He did not need her to argue perfectly or suffer prettily before he took her hurt seriously.
She looked down the path, her eyes settling on the pebbles that shifted beneath her slippers. The garden moved quietly around them, leaves stirring, birds fussing somewhere beyond sight.
It dawned on her then with a strange clarity that what steadied her was not comfort alone. It was the reminder of what she was made of when she was not being pushed from crisis to crisis.
She came from warmth. From affection freely given. From a father who noticed when her voice changed and a friend who, forall her foolishness, loved her enough to grieve the harm she had helped cause.
She was not powerless unless she chose to behave as though she were. While she could not exactly undo the engagement neatly or make Ciaran into a different man by sheer force of offense, she could control how she reacted to the situation.
Nay.
She didn’t have to vanish just because she was getting married to a man known for being the practical devil of the Highlands. She was not going to be fitted into some kind of emotional emptiness as if she ought to thank him for the neatness of it.
She slowed down a little and looked at the two people beside her. The ease of being with them, of beingknownby them, made the truth impossible to ignore.
By the time they turned back toward the upper terrace, something in her had changed. Her shoulders no longer felt drawn tight toward her ears. The frantic inward spinning of the night before had settled, and her words were a bit steadier.
Rory noticed first. “There ye are,” he said softly.
Ava raised an eyebrow. “Where else should I be?”
“Hidden under that temper and lack of sleep.”
“That is still a possibility,” she replied. “But I believe I have a clearer use for both.”
Isobel looked at her closely. “What are ye thinking?”
Ava stopped walking. She drew one breath, then another, and felt no tremor in it.
“I am thinking that yer brother shouldnae be the only one to control this situation,” she began. “If he told me I may set the terms of the wedding, then I am going to do exactly that.”
Isobel blinked. Rory’s expression sharpened with interest, then something like pride.
Ava continued before either could interrupt. “I may nae be able to stop this cleanly. I see that now. But I can refuse to walk into it as though I daenae have control over what I do and where I get to stay in this castle.”
Her father’s mouth curved. “That sounds more like me daughter.”
Ava glanced at him and felt her own answering smile come easier. “I should hope so.”
Isobel searched her face. “Ye mean to speak to him?”
“I do.”
“Today?”
Ava turned toward the path that would lead to the training grounds. The thought of going there sent a wave of unease through her, but it no longer ruled her.
“Today,” she confirmed.
