Page 1 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride

CHAPTER 1

“Who are all these people?” Maisie asked as the carriage trundled toward the huge expanse of Dunroven Castle.

Her father was not looking out of the carriage windows, his spectacles perched on the end of his nose, eyes fixed on the book in his lap. She waited for a reply, but none came. He had not turned a page or moved his eyes for some time.

With a growing sense of unease, she looked out of the carriage window again and frowned at the number of ladies who seemed to be milling about within the grounds. As the carriage moved beneath the imposing stone gates they seemed to multiply before her eyes.

A multitude of servants bustled amongst them, carrying trays of food for the feast or distributing refreshments to the assembled families. There was a palpable sense of anticipation in the air.

What in heaven's name are all these people doin’ here? They cannae possibly all be MacLennan’s family—there are so many ladies of my age.

She looked up at the huge flag above her head. It was bold and bright in the MacLennan colors of green and gold. The black stag of their clan emblazoned across the fabric looked as though it might take flight and leap into the blue sky behind it.

She had to admit that Dunroven's backdrop was impressive. It was a large, imposing fortress perched atop a high green hill looking out over the MacLennan estate. Two turreted towers bracketed the dark stone walls on either side, and the wide courtyard was lush with green grass.

Her eyes were drawn to a stone wall at the rear that connected to one of the turrets as a walkway. Pillars of stone ran along its length as though the laird might walk along it during the day, surveying his kingdom.

“Maisie?” she looked back at her father. “Are you getting out?”

She blinked at him, realizing the carriage had come to a halt. He was watching her expectantly. She hurriedly descended into the courtyard and alighted, looking about her as he followed behind. The carriage moved off, and Maisie turned to him, trying her best to keep her temper in check. He would not meet her eyes.

“What is goin’ on, Da?” she asked.

“‘Tis an event to celebrate,” he said, but even he sounded unconvinced.

Women all about them were in their finest gowns. Many girls wore pastels of light pink and lavender and looked exceedingly elegant. Maisie’s own Italian gown was of satin, and dark green in color. She stood out as one of the darker dresses in the throng.

“I am so excited for the feast,” a girl nearby piped up. “Mama has been drilling me with questions all week. I have never been so prepared for anything.”

Maisie looked at her questioningly. She was a tall blonde woman about her age, perhaps a little older, standing at the edge of the crowds with her friend. She was rather waspish in appearance with sharp features and Maisie did not like the look of her one bit.

“Da,” she said forcefully. “This is nae engagement feast; what have ye done?”

His jaw tightened as she turned on him, her temper flaring. She observed the stubborn set to his expression—that never boded well.

“I told ye that I would secure yer future, and this is a good opportunity to dae so.”

“Opportunity? You told me I was betrothed to him already!”

“Keep your voice down,” her father said, his eyes moving around the crowds behind her warily. Maisie took in a deep breath and waited for him to explain, knowing that she was not going to like the answer. “Ye must wed, Maisie,” he continued. “I dinnae ken how long I can keep us afloat. MacLennan wants a bride, and ye are here to be chosen. That is the end of it.”

“ Chosen ?” Maisie asked suspiciously.

“Hold yer tongue.”

Maisie recoiled as though he had struck her. Her father rarely spoke so cruelly, and his eyes were hard as they met hers.

“I have pampered ye too long, we are here for business. That is what this marriage must be. Ye’ll thank me. One day ye’ll see all this was for yer own good, child.”

Maisie shut her mouth, leaning away from her father as they stood beside one another in silence. She was unaccustomed to his harsh treatment of her, and it showed all the more clearly how much strain he was under.

She was suddenly too hot, her cheeks flaming. She wished she could escape for a few minutes to calm herself.

In the days preceding the feast, she had spent every waking moment trying to find a way to turn the tide that faced her. She had scoured the papers for female positions, only to be faced with the reality her father had already outlined. The pay was appalling, and all the positions were too far afield to be feasible.

In a fit of pique, she had considered running away to sea. She had stood in her bedroom facing the mirror, a coat of her fathers about her shoulders and her breast bound with a shawl she had inexpertly tied in a knot at her back.

She would have laughed at the image she presented if her situation had been less dire. A fresh-faced girl in an oversized coat with shoulder-length blonde hair and wild, piercing blue eyes with lashes the length of her fingernail.

She would not be passing for a boy; that much was certain.

As she looked about her now at this field of pomp and ceremony, she wished she had cut off all her hair, perhaps then the laird would have rejected her on sight.

“Mr. Brown!”

Maisie looked across the crowded courtyard at a woman approaching them. She had dark brown hair and a rich, green taffeta gown that flowed behind her beautifully. She was a charming-looking woman with dark twinkling eyes, perhaps ten years younger than her father, streaks of grey lining the hair about her forehead.

“Ah, Mrs. Guthrie!” her father called, all the harshness in his voice fading away. He raised his hand in greeting and pasted on a smile as she reached them. “Thank ye for having us.”

“It is I who should be thankin’ ye,” Mrs. Guthrie smiled. “It is so wonderful to see ye, and I ken ye have had a long journey.” Her gaze swiveled to Maisie, who was utterly tongue-tied. “And this must be Miss Brown.”

Her gaze swept over Maisie’s figure appraisingly and then settled on her face. Maisie swallowed, still unable to speak, hating every minute of the analysis she was being subjected to. She felt humiliated.

“Ye were nae lyin’ when ye said she was a fine lass,” Mrs. Guthrie stated.

“She takes after her mother,” her father said, flicking his gaze to Maisie, and it seemed in that small glance as though his expression was almost pleading. “She is me proudest achievement.”

Maisie kept her face as polite and friendly as possible, but the unease she had felt in the carriage was mounting. This felt like a trap. Her father was not acting like himself.

She pulled herself together as best she could.

“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Guthrie,” she managed as they gave one another a swift curtsy.

“Likewise, Miss Brown. Now I hope ye are nae too tired from yer journey. Make sure ye have some refreshment before the feast. Ye must be excited for the contest,” Mrs. Guthrie said with a wry smile.

Maisie saw her father preparing to speak and jumped in before he could say a word.

“I am excited, Mrs. Guthrie,” she said, adding a fawning edge to her voice. “My da is so secretive though, he has hardly told me anythin’ of what to expect today. Would ye nae enlighten me?”

Mrs. Guthrie gave a little squeak of laughter that made some of the heads about them turn their way and she waved a hand at Maisie’s father, shaking her head.

“Mr. Brown, I am ashamed of ye,” Mrs. Guthrie said conspiratorially. She tutted, weaving her elbow through the crook of Maisie’s arm and pulling her close.

“It’s an idea me husband came up with. Ye can see him just across there, in the emerald jacket, speakin’ to that fair lass with the red hair. Marcus Guthrie, one of the most senior members on the MacLennan Council.” Her voice was thick with pride.

“He’s long been eager for the laird to find a wife,” she continued. “He felt that bringing all ye fine ladies together would help the man choose.” She giggled as though it were a joke. “Ye ken how men are, lass, never can make a decision.”

Maisie wasn’t sure how she managed to keep the smile on her lips, but she felt frozen in place, her heart thundering in her chest.

This is nae engagement feast, this is an auction for the best bride of the bunch. I am expected to parade meself like cattle at a fayre. How could Da do this to me?

“How wonderful,” she said through gritted teeth, “and what will that entail, may I ask?”

“Och, Mr. Brown,” Mrs. Guthrie scolded. “How could ye nae tell her the rules?”

Maisie’s father had the audacity to laugh. “I am sure ye will explain everythin’ she needs to ken, Mrs. Guthrie.”

Mrs. Guthrie was still shaking her head, her arm tightening on Maisie’s as she drew her in close, speaking to her secretively, as though she did not wish for others around them to hear.

“There are five other ladies here. Each of ye will be feastin’ with the laird and each of ye will be asked three questions, which ye will answer in turn. Whoever the laird likes the most, and whoever answers the questions to the standard he requires, will be picked as his bride!” she leaned back again, looking pleased with herself. “Isnae that just wonderful?” she asked.

It sounds dreadful, Maisie thought with mounting horror. I have to get out of here.