Page 24 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
So he simply did not seek her out.
If he learned she had taken breakfast in one room, he went to another later in the morning. If some natural crossing of paths presented itself in the corridor, he altered his route. He even made sure to keep to business, land matters, and men who needed instruction. He did not present himself in the gardens or linger where company might make an encounter with her likely.
This was a simple enough strategy. Or at least it should have been, as it required that he see Ava less. However, the consequences of this action stung him much more than he could have imagined. Or even prepared for in the first place.
Every time he thought of avoiding her was every time he thought of her.
He had to anticipate where she might be and remember what she had asked. He also had to account for the possibility of being drawn into talk if he entered one part of the castle at the wrong hour. Even his absence became organized around her.
That fact alone irritated him more as the days passed.
Ava herself irritated him too, though not in the simple manner he might have preferred. It would have been easier if she had merely been lovely or just troublesome. Instead, she remained just as sharp and intelligent as he had seen in the auction. He could still see the look she had given him at the training grounds and the way she had firmly held her own without letting him control her.
Perhaps he should have chosen the crier. He was sure that one would not have caused him as much trouble as Ava Fraser did.
By the time the week drew to its end, the distance he had chosen began to feel different in his own hands. Less like a strategy and more like avoidance.
Tomorrow, she would become his wife. Tomorrow, the space he had preserved so carefully would disappear, and he would no longer have an excuse to avoid her anymore.
Again, this fact did not make him go to her.
He decided to spend the final evening before the wedding as he had kept the rest of the week—work on writing letters requesting for tributes from neighboring lairds and studying maps on his desk. Yet, even with that, he could no longer pretend the effort would prevent what was coming.
Ava remained too present in his mind for a woman he had determined not to let too near. That, more than anything, made the impending wedding feel even more dangerous.
An hour into the night, his door opened without ceremony. Only one person in the castle still entered his private rooms with that particular combination of boldness and irritation.
Ciaran did not turn at once. He knew his sister’s footsteps too well.
“Isobel, what do ye want?”
Isobel’s footsteps stopped. “I want ye to tell me that what I noticed all week isnae true and ye arenae actively avoiding yer bride.”
Ciaran looked up at her, his throat bobbing. “What are ye talking about?”
Isobel stared at him as if his question made no sense. “I am talking about the fact that I didnae see ye with Ava all week. Did something happen?”
Ciaran didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the map on his desk.
“So it is true, then,” Isobel huffed. “Ye have spent the whole week dodging the woman ye mean to wed tomorrow.”
Ciaran kept his gaze on the papers before him for one deliberate moment longer, then set them down.
“If ye have come to lecture me,” he said, “ye may spare yerself the effort.”
Isobel shut the door behind her. “I think nae.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Mind yer own affairs, Isobel.”
She gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Meownaffairs? Ava is me dearest friend, and ye are me brother. Ye are to be wed tomorrow, and ye have spent the week acting as though she carries some pestilence ye might catch if ye stand too close to her.”
Ciaran’s mouth hardened. “Take care.”
“Nay,” she said. “I am quite finished taking care. I daenae ken why ye keep treating me like one of yer servants.”
Ciaran exhaled. “That isnae true.”
“Aye. Because in case ye have forgotten, I didnae spend the past decade with ye.”
