Page 76 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Behind her, Ciaran had gone very still.
CHAPTER 22
“Bruce… Oh, Bruce.”The words spilled out of Ava without order. “Ye awful little beastie, where have ye come from? Look at ye. Look at ye!”
She kissed the top of his head, then his nose, then gathered him closer as if she might press him back into her life by force.
The feel of him in her arms broke something open in her chest. He was real. Warm.Alive.She couldn’t imagine what she would have done if the news reached her that Bruce had also died in the fire.
Bruce let out another sharp bark right in her face, and a laugh burst out of her.
Behind her, Ciaran cleared his throat, reminding her of his presence. “I didnae ken yer father had a dog.”
Ava looked up at him over Bruce’s twitching ears. Her face was damp, her mouth trembling with so many emotions. “He isnae just a dog. He is our little bairn.”
Bruce barked again as if in fierce agreement.
Ciaran’s expression shifted briefly. It was not a smile exactly, but his lips twitched just enough to show how amused he was for a second. Ava felt that too. It mattered. Though at that moment, she had no space in herself to sort out why.
She buried her face in Bruce’s neck once more and felt him wriggle all over with joy. Her hands ran over his back, checking him without meaning to, making sure he was whole.
Then she heard another set of footsteps in the corridor and froze. Bruce twisted in her arms, gave a small, impatient whine, and tried to launch himself toward the open doorway.
Her father stood there, and for one second, she could only look at him.
He was upright. He wasbreathing. He was clearly exhausted, and the skin along the side of his face and neck showed angry red where the fire must have touched him. His clothes looked stained from travel, and Ava noticed that one sleeve had been cut and rewrapped badly over a bandage beneath.
Despite all of that, he seemed entirely himself. The set of his mouth, the directness of his gaze, and the quiet stubbornnessin the way he held himself, even when tiredness dragged at his shoulders.
“Da.” The word broke out of her like a child’s cry.
Ava was on her feet and across the space between them before anyone could speak. She threw herself into his arms with enough force that he rocked back half a step and caught her tightly at once.
“There ye are,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and relief.
Ava clung to him. She did not care that Bruce was now barking around their feet or even that Ciaran still stood in the room. Her father was here. She could see and hold him. He wasalive. She could now believe it now that she had seen him with her own eyes.
“I thought…” She could not finish.
“I ken.” His hand moved over the back of her head once, then again. “I ken, lass.”
She drew back only far enough to look at him properly, and the sight of the burns hit her fully. Her breath caught. The joy stayed, but worry came in beside it.
“Ye are hurt.”
“Aye, a bit singed.” He nodded. “I saved the beastie, and I was the only fool who paid for it.”
Almost like he understood what was being said, Bruce gave a sharp, offended bark, and that did it. Ava laughed through fresh tears, not caring that the sound shook out of her helplessly.
“Ye shouldnae jest.”
“I should very much jest,” he insisted. “Otherwise, all of ye will look at me like mourners at a wake, and I have nay wish to be buried before supper.”
Yes, that was fully her father.He was wounded, tired, and still more interested in lightening the atmosphere than enlarging his own suffering.
Isobel stepped in again at that moment, her eyes bright with anticipation. Ava briefly looked at her. Her pale face was bright with feeling.
“Ye gave us all a fright,” she said, her voice shaky from what Ava could only imagine to be relief.
