Page 49 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
They rode on at a brisk pace after that, the horses pleased with the exercise, the morning broad and clear around them.
Ava kept speaking, her voice mingling with the wind in the gentlest way. She told him how Isobel used to accuse her of leaning forward like a jockey, which made her horse go faster.
“And did ye? Lean like a jockey?”
“That isnae the point of this discussion, me Laird.”
“Sounds like it should very much be the point.”
Ava turned to him, her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows raised. “Why? Because ye also think it is quite unladylike?”
Ciaran shrugged in response.
Ava shook her head. “I cannae believe ye. Ye ken, to win, sometimes ye have to disregard things like posture. The competition doesnae care how ladylike ye look.”
A smirk curved his lips as they rode even faster. She told him she once rounded a corner too sharply and landed in mud before she could enjoy her victory, while Isobel laughed so hard she nearly fell as well.
Ciaran found himself listening not out of duty, but because he wanted the next part. That was the first real warning.
Ava smiled more when she rode. Not prettily, but openly. It changed her entire face. Worse, there was no sign she did it for him. She was not trying to charm or coax him. She was simply enjoying herself, entirely occupied with the horse beneath her and the memory of old races and the pleasure of movement.
That made it much harder to defend against. A woman faking sweetness could be met with caution. A woman simplybeingherself was an entirely different matter.
With an unwelcome jolt, Ciaran became aware that their outing no longer felt like something to be endured. He was not merely tolerating her company. He was taking pleasure in it. In her voice. In her competitiveness. In the way the ride itself felt better because she was beside him.
He was simply enjoying her company; that was it. There was no reason to attach meaning to what was just a fine day out. This was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
By the time they slowed the horses near a gentler rise, his mind had already reached for order.
“Ye should meet the staff,” he said.
Ava looked over at him, her eyes still glimmering. “Now?”
“Soon.”
Her expression shifted into curiosity. “For what purpose?”
“I mean, ye are the lady of the castle now. Ye have to learn the household. Its rhythm. Its people.” He kept his voice even. “There are matters ye ought to ken.”
That was true. Entirely true. Which made the timing good.
Ava studied him for a moment in a way he did not much like. “Ye are giving me work,” she said.
“I am giving ye responsibility.”
“That sounds less rude when ye say it.”
“It isnae meant to be rude.”
And it was not. But he knew, even as he said it, that practicality was only half the reason. The other half sat lower and meaner inside him. If she were occupied with servants, stores, keys, linens, and all the proper burdens of a laird’s wife, perhaps she would sit more firmly inside the shape he had intended for this marriage.
And perhaps he would as well. Hopefully, that would stop whatever had begun riding beside him this morning with her smile in its mouth.
Ava turned her gaze back toward the grounds ahead. “Very well,” she agreed. “I shall learn them.”
He nodded once, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.
