Page 10 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride

CHAPTER 10

“Good mornin’, Lady MacLennan!” Jean cried, pulling open the drapes.

Maisie groaned, turning over in bed and covering her face with her pillow. Her body ached from her restless night.

“I am nae Lady MacLennan yet, Jean,” she said despondently.

“But ye will be after today. Isnae that excitin’?” the maid replied wistfully and sighed. She was by the window, and her gaze was caught by something in the courtyard for a time before she continued bustling about the room, fussing with Maisie’s deep blue wedding gown that lay across the chair before the fire.

The seamstress had done a beautiful design of wild stags around the hem. A tiny part of her hoped that James would like it, but the more dominant part insisted that she should not care for his opinion at all.

Maisie rose, wandering over to where Jean had been standing, listening to the clink of glasses from downstairs. She looked down into the grounds below and noticed James’s man-at-arms in the courtyard training with one of the guards.

“What a beautiful day for a weddin’,” Jean said happily as she came up to stand beside her. The sky was blue and clear, a hazy light awakening before the real warmth of the day.

Jean sighed again and Maisie glanced at her. Jean’s eyes were on Harris in the grounds below and Maisie looked between them curiously.

“He is Laird MacLennan’s man-at-arms, is he nae? I only met him briefly. He tends to be out with the laird most days.”

Jean chuckled. “Dinnae I ken it.”

“Is there somethin’ between ye?” she asked, not wishing to pry, but thankful for something to focus on besides the wedding.

Jean shook her head. “Nae for want of tryin’,” she muttered. “There is only so much a woman can dae to let a man ken she is interested without lookin’ like a wanton.”

Maisie huffed a laugh as Jean rolled her eyes at her.

“What have ye said?”

“Och, many things over the years.”

“ Years? ” Maisie asked in amazement.

“Aye, three years this autumn. I thought perhaps he had a sweetheart, but it seems he may just be a shy man.” Jean shook herself. “But today is nae about me, lass, I cannae wait to see ye in yer gown. I must dae yer hair first. Would ye like it up or down?”

Maisie went to the mirror, looking at her pale reflection. There were subtle shadows under her eyes from her lack of sleep and she sighed.

“What dae ye think?” she asked, and Jean looked so pleased to be asked she decided it would not be the last time she asked for her opinion.

“I would say up, m’lady, I mean, Miss Brown , I have a pin for yer hair I think would be perfect. It was owned by the late Lady MacLennan.”

“Thank ye, Jean. Let us have it up, then.”

Jean beamed and set about arranging the dressing table as Maisie took her seat, thinking of the heated kiss she’d shared with James the night before, and the desperation she felt to taste him on her tongue again.

From the very beginning, she had thought him handsome, but there was something about the man in the dim torchlight that made him seem all the more intense. She had almost begged him, and it had frightened her.

I cannae care for this man, he is never here and has nae interest in anythin’ from me but me body.

Maisie sighed as she watched Jean begin to twist pieces of her hair up and behind her head.

Following her mother’s death, all Maisie remembered was being alone. As an only child, her father had done his best for her with a multitude of excellent governesses, and she had had the best education money could buy. But she had few friends and only saw her father five or six times a year between business trips.

She was tired of being lonely, and she believed more every day that she would find no companionship here.

James had made it clear his first love was his clan. She would never have expected him to abandon his duties for her entirely , but this week had been a sour insight into her future. If he could not even make time for their wedding preparations after a contest he had agreed to, what hope did she have of him spending any time with her during their marriage?

I have left one empty house for another.

She frowned at her reflection as the defeated thought came to her mind.

No. She would not be cowed so easily. Her father was happy and able to rebuild his business without the burden of her care—she would have to make a new life for herself another way—if that had to be without her new husband, so be it

“Jean?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, Miss Brown.”

“Dae ye ken if there is a chess board in this castle?”

James stared at the papers on his desk, feeling tendrils of sleep tugging at his eyelids. Thanks to his future bride, his late-night walk around the castle to tire himself had done the opposite of what he had intended.

After she had left him, he picked up her plate to see what it was she had been eating. He had sat down on the steps to finish them, thinking of nothing but Maisie, her wide beautiful eyes, and her almost transparent nightgown.

“Argh, get a hold of yourself, man,” he said to the room at large, glancing irritably at his father’s portrait above the fire. He felt a spike of fury he could not overcome. “I am nae molded in yer image,” he muttered to the painting. “I shall dae me duty.”

To his frustration, nothing about the work on his desk was urgent. He just needed something to occupy him for an hour before the wedding, but none of this was pressing enough to warrant his attention.

He looked up as there was a rapid knock at the door. Harris entered, closing it behind him and looking contrite.

“Ye dinnae want to interact with folk on yer own weddin’ day?” he asked looking over the mountain of paper scattered over James’s desk.

“Has me bride emerged?”

“Aye, and her faither is out there and is anxious to speak with ye,” Harris frowned, opening his mouth as though to say more and then closing it again.

“Have ye spoken to the lass at all since the contest? It may help.”

“Ye are one to talk,” James said, giving Harris a sideways look.

To his relief, Harris chuckled. “That’s different, Jean is me friend.”

“She wants to be yer friend as much as I want to muck out the stables.”

Harris sighed. “Ye’re changin’ the subject.”

James sighed. “Nae. I havenae spoken to her. Well, I argued with her over some bannocks at one o’clock in the mornin’, does that count?” Harris raised his eyebrows. “There was nae impropriety, she was hungry.”

“Aye, I’ll bet,” Harris muttered.

At his words, James felt the tension in his chest release suddenly, as though he had been waiting for some levity to push him out of his dark mood and he found himself laughing.

“Ye are a dobber.”

Harris grinned. “That’s why ye keep me about. So then, what did ye say to the lass?”

“I told her to get back to her room and get some sleep.”

“So ye met by accident at the dead of night, sent her to her room, and now ye’re wonderin’ why she doesnae wish to speak to ye?”

“I talked to her,” James protested.

“Ye ordered her. There’s a difference.”

“She doesnae want a husband any more than I want a wife. The less we see each other the better.”

“I dinnae understand why ye insist that yer duty and yer wife dinnae go hand in hand,” Harris exclaimed, gesturing to the papers on the desk.

“Women dinnae have a place in clan business. She’ll remain in the castle where I can keep an eye on her, and I’ll continue as before.”

Harris stroked his beard and sighed. “It is yer weddin’ day, m’laird. Ye can have a single day away from yer letters.”

James rubbed a hand over his forehead and looked at his friend, at the deep worry in his expression. He was surprised to realize he felt guilty for how he had treated Maisie. He had commanded her to leave or beg him for his attention, yet he had not spoken to her for days.

She is a newly betrothed woman from a small Scottish town, the daughter of a tradesman and unaccustomed to this life. I’m a brute for abandoning her.

Perhaps Harris is right. One day cannae hurt.

He pushed up from his desk and headed for the door.

“Where’re ye goin’?” Harris asked, following after.

“To see me wife.”