Page 4 of Hunted By the Hard Highlander

“She was too young,” Hendry grunted, taking a sip of his whisky. As it burned down his throat, he felt as if he might actually be able to conquer the evening.

“She isnae,” Sebastian said, nodding toward a woman approaching them. When Hendry looked back at him, the other man was already picking his way through the crowd and leaving Hendry alone to fend for himself.

“Laird Anderson,” the woman said, appearing at his side with a swiftness that felt supernatural. “It is a pleasure to make yer acquaintance. Me father wrote ahead of our arrival.”

Ach, everyone’s fathers wrote ahead of their arrival, lass.

“He told me that I should mention me embroidery,” the girl said, completely skipping over introducing herself. He could not tell if the woman was nervous or if she simply did not care to get to know him. She pointed to the floral hem of her dress. “I did the stitchin’ meself.”

“That is impressive,” he said politely, pointedly ignoring Fergus’s sharp bark of laughter.

The girl, rather than realizing his disinterest, continued to speak. Trapped in the conversation, he answered as politely as he could. If he came across as rude to any of the guests here, it would ruin his already slim chances of finding a bride.

Finally, he managed to slip away from her. Rather than joining the other Lairds, he positioned himself against the wall, a fresh glass of whisky swirling in his palm. The ceilidh continued without him, and he could not help but wonder if his presence was even truly required.

“I was lookin’ for ye.”

Holding back a groan, Hendry turned toward the feminine voice. This woman was nearly his age, her face pretty. She glanced up at the ceiling, showing off the curve of her neck.

“I was takin’ a moment to watch the celebrations,” Hendry said, picking each of his words for politeness. Though now that he was speaking with someone again, he longed to be alone once more. “Are ye enjoyin’ yerself?”

“Aye,” she said, not taking her eyes off the ceiling. “That chandelier will be the first thing that I fix.”

“Excuse me?” he said, sure that he had not heard her correctly.

“This castle is quite nice, but many of the fixtures are quite outdated,” she replied, looking at him with a serious expression. “But I have been distracted by the chandelier all evenin’.”

Saints, she is speakin’ as though I have chosen her.

“I suggest ye take a wee walk around the foyer,” he said, needing her absurdity away from him. She seemed like the kind of woman that would take well to being given a task. “It would be best if ye come to me with every note ye have all at once.”

She grinned up at him, pleased. It did not even seem to occur to her that the two of them were strangers. With a single, pleased nod, she patted Hendry’s bicep and took up her task.

Now I have to excuse meself before she returns.

As soon as he stepped away from the wall, he felt as though he were being hunted. Not only was he being tracked by the eyes of hopeful ladies, but he was also being watched by their fathers. The Anderson lands and gold were coveted, and Hendry would be a fool to think they were not eager to pull him to the side and discuss a deal.

Somehow, he managed to slip away, years of moving in the shadows for the good of his people coming to his aid. When he reached the kitchens, he ignored the servants asking after him. Even as he heard hurried footsteps following him, Hendry stepped out into the cool evening.

Mountain air caressed his face, blowing his long, black hair away from his face. The sounds of the gathering were much quieter here, but he could hear chatter in the courtyard. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head up toward the moon.

“People are departin’, Hendry.” Willy was panting slightly as he stood next to Hendry. “Ye arenae even there to bid them farewell.”

“I dinnae want any of them in me castle,” Hendry said, glaring over at his man-at-arms. “And I willnae marry any of those women. The three I managed to speak to would be the downfall of Clan Anderson.”

“Nae takin’ a wife will be the downfall of the clan, Laird Anderson,” Willy said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Have ye forgotten that the Managers arrive in two days’ time? If ye daenae present the woman that ye intend to wed…” The pause lingered between them, and Hendry knew what he would say next before he even opened his mouth.

So he finished the thought for him.

“They will begin proceedings to strip the Anderson land.” Hendry stared up at the stars twinkling above them, watching as a cloud floated lazily in front of the moon.

“We attended a ceilidh last week,” Willy muttered after a beat. “And one the week prior to that. Another before.”

“Nay woman is fit,” Hendry growled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I will have to speak with the Managers. Nay man will be seizin’ me land.”

Even as he spoke, he was uncertain that he would be able to say a single word to sway them. Still, even as he felt his land, his life’s purpose slipping through his fingers, he refused to let it go without a fight.

Chapter Three