Page 138 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
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.
Fear.
Transparent ambition.
A softness too plain to miss.
A wish to be admired.
A hope for tenderness.
Each one made each woman less suited for the sort of marriage he intended. They all wanted tomarryhim, but he wanted awife.It was completely different.
He was also not trying to choose the prettiest one in the room. Prettiness would fade into inconvenience soon enough. He was choosing someone who could manage distance. A woman who would endure life in the castle without him. A woman who wouldn’t bother him or ask him for more than he was ready to give.
This would not be a love match. It would never be. Which was why the more openly the women sought to please him, the less he wanted them.
Then he came toher.
Ava.
He knew the name before anyone said it. His sister had spoken it too often over the last fortnight for it not to mean anything,though he had taken care not to ask questions. He knew she was Laird MacKenna’s daughter. He also knew she was clever, if Isobel was to be believed. She was also warm and well-liked.
