Page 16 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride
CHAPTER 16
Maisie didn’t see James for the remainder of the day. She had tried to convince herself she was happy about it but, in truth, she felt rejected and lonely.
She was grateful for her servants, and the household that ran so well. Mrs. Murray was a great comfort, but she could never make friends with the staff. She felt entirely isolated, and it was a familiar and unpleasant feeling.
She hoped that her father was all right wherever he was. Maisie missed her evening games of chess with Dora, and as she wandered back to her room, her mood lifted as she decided she would play a game against herself.
As she entered the room, there was a beautiful smell from one side of the room. She noticed a large vase of flowers above the mantelpiece that had not been there before. She approached it warily, noting a box on her bed also.
The flowers had a small note attached to them, and she read it as her blood began to pulse angrily in her veins.
I hope these brighten your day. J
That was all it said. She scowled.
She had just spent over thirty minutes with Mrs. Murray analyzing the account book and recognized the handwriting on the note instantly.
Not only had James delegated responsibility to his housekeeper to placate his wife, but he had also made it clear to all of the servants that he had something to apologize for.
With their aborted wedding nuptials, the argument, and now this, Maisie felt her cheeks flame with embarrassment.
Does he wish the entire household to ken we are at odds?
She whirled around to the box on the bed, stalking over to it and throwing it open angrily.
Inside was a beautiful pale gray and silver gown with beading running all across the bodice and lace edging around the sleeves. On any other day, she would have been overwhelmed by its beauty and even put it on immediately, but not today.
It was exactly what her father had always done to make up for his absences. Gifts to soften the blow that he might be gone for longer than he had first thought.
Something in her exploded.
I cannae spend the rest of me life livin’ alone with only servants for company, she thought furiously. How dare he presume that this will make up for last night?
With that, she stormed to the adjoining door to their rooms, determined to find her husband and give him a piece of her mind.
She slammed through it, careless of the noise that it might create—it wasn’t as though the servants weren’t aware that they were arguing—and pushed through the door at the end without knocking.
To her dismay, despite the footsteps she was sure she had heard earlier that night, it was empty.
She walked swiftly out into the corridor, trying to keep her rage at the surface so she could finally tell him exactly what she thought of his gifts.
As she continued down the long, winding corridor, she noticed there was a breeze coming from somewhere. She looked about her to see if there was a window that had been left open. Instead, she saw a doorway out to the battlements.
She made for it, something in her gut telling her that she would find James out there. She was not disappointed.
As she made her way through the narrow door she saw a dark silhouette at the end of the stone balcony. He was standing with his back to her, looking up at the dark sky.
There was a full moon tonight, and the stars twinkled beautifully above her head, but she had no time to look at them.
“Are ye intendin’ to bribe me now?” she fumed, walking toward him and wishing she was a foot taller, so she did not feel so dwarfed in his presence.
James turned, the faint light from the torches in the courtyard below only illuminating a portion of his face. His dark eyes were in shadow, his brooding gaze fixed on her. He looked like a villain come to whisk her away, and she stopped short, fighting for breath, the familiar beat of arousal beginning to drum in her breast.
James stepped forward, but his gaze was no less angry than hers.
“I am getting’ tired of bein’ accused of things I ne’er intended,” he snapped. “They were gifts. Are ye so intent on us bein’ at each other's throats every day?”
“ Me? ” she stormed. “Ye are the one who hasnae even apologized for yer conduct last night.”
“I did apologize.”
“Ye didnae. Ye asked me to forgive ye but ye told me the opposite—that ye werenae sorry because ye have to prioritize yer clan.”
“And I dae.”
“Ye dinnae think I ken that?”
James paused, his dark eyes moving back to her face as she huffed angrily and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Dae ye truly think that I expect ye to choose yer wife, whom ye’ve kent for a week over yer own people? Over a riot no less?”
“Then why did ye?—”
“Because ye humiliated me.”
James stepped forward; his face was difficult to read in the half-light, but his stance was far less tense than it had been.
“Maisie—”
“Dinnae try to explain it again, I ken why ye left, but the least ye can dae is tell me to me face that ye regretted missin’ our weddin’ night together. I havenae seen ye for much of the day, and I come back to meaningless gifts to make up for it all.”
“I didnae mean for them to be meaningless?—”
“Me faither did it all me life.” James stopped, leaning back slightly as though examining her carefully. “He bought me presents to make up for his absences, and it was good at first, but after years of it I came to resent the very site of them.”
“I thought all lasses liked new dresses.”
She scowled. “Ye arenae even listenin’ to me!” she hissed and turned on her heel, walking back toward the open door and the darkness of the castle beyond.
She did not even make it half a step before she was spun bodily around and pressed against the low wall of the battlements. There were wide gaps between each merlon, and the crenels were low, the edge resting against the small of her back.
Even so, she felt horribly exposed; leaning out over the drop below her, she could feel her hair hanging into the abyss.
“I am gettin’ ever more tired of ye walkin’ away from me in a rage, Maisie Brown.”
“I am gettin’ tired of ye James MacLennan and we havenae even been wed a day.”
To her surprise, he laughed and held her a little tighter, moving his hands around her waist.
“I cannae think when ye’re ragin’ at me, it just makes me want to have ye even more.”
“Ye havenae had me. Ye didnae even try.”
“I tried, believe me. I’ve thought about little else all day.”
To her irritation, the rage that had been rumbling beneath her skin started to slowly ebb away, revealing the lust that had never quite faded.
Why daes this man have to ignite me desire like this? Why cannae I just hate him?
“I like the sound of me name on those beautiful lips,” he said, and she scoffed.
“Dinnae try to charm me.”
His fingers tightened. “Maybe I shouldnae give ye a choice.”
Her breath hitched and as the moon came out from behind the cloud above them, showing her the need in his eyes, his sharp features tense.
“I think ye like me givin’ ye orders, Miss Brown.”
“It’s Lady MacLennan now, and I dinnae like bein’ told what to dae.”
She gasped as he licked an indecent line up her neck with his tongue, shocking her so much that her fingers clutched at his shoulders in desperate need.
“I think ye are nae lady,” he muttered, his nose nuzzling her jawline as she felt the familiar roll of his hips, feeling the hardness beneath. “I think ye yearn to be mastered.”
“Ye are—och, God—ye are the most arrogant man alive.”
“Hmm,” his hand pushed over her hip, and she stuttered and gasped. Her whole body was shaking with repressed desire as she fought to keep her moans at bay.
She was desperate to feel him touch her again.
The pleasure he had ignited after their game had given her a glimpse into what could be created when a man and a woman came together. She wanted to know more—much more.
He pulled back, unceremoniously hitching up her skirts as he pulled them to her waist. He pushed her against the wall, his eyes glowing now with an intensity she could barely meet.
His scent surrounded her, his hardened fingers running over the tops of her thighs. He smiled as, involuntarily, her legs parted to give him better access.
“Like I said,” he murmured, his fingers moving to flutter against the mound of her flesh, her breath panting as she tried to keep her balance. “Ye are nae lady,” he touched her, pushing a finger over her as she quivered beneath him.
He smiled. “Ye are wet for me already, and I have barely touched ye.”
She opened her eyes, outraged at his words, and tried to give him a withering glare, even as his fingers rubbed that spot over and over. She had to place her hands on either side of the stone to stop herself from collapsing to the floor.
With one hand occupied, the other suddenly found its way into her hair, and his fist gripped so hard she groaned. The tight burn at her scalp was a strange and unexpected pleasure as he tugged her head forward, forcing her to meet his gaze. She moaned, her hips pushing against his fingers as she finally felt him push into her.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, moving forward to bite her lower lip before soothing it with his tongue and plunging into her mouth with a shuddering groan. His fingers and hips began a harsh rocking motion against her, her whole body set alight by the movement as he matched the rhythm with his tongue.
His fist in her hair was brutally tight; she was utterly immobilized by him, and she had never been so aroused in her life.
Finally, he pulled back as her head went limp, her knee coming up of its own volition. It allowed him to push even further inside her as she felt her shuddering release surge through her body.
It took an age for her to come back to herself, and when she did so, he was holding her again, her skirts back around her ankles. His face was so close she could see the faint lines about his eyes from where he smiled.
But he rarely smiles at me.
“I am sorry,” he said solemnly. “I am sorry for leavin’ ye like that, Maisie.”
His gaze was so intense she had to look away before she melted in the face of it.
It was what she had wanted to hear, but somehow, there was no satisfaction in it.
“Should ye nae get some rest?” she asked softly. “Ye must be tired after seein’ to yer clan all night.”
“I am seein’ to me wife.”
She disentangled herself from his embrace, trying not to push him away too forcefully. She felt strange and off-balance again.
Is the anger I feel because he left me, or because I ken the feelin’s that are growin’ inside me will never be reciprocated?
She swallowed, pasting a smile on her face, and stepping around him.
“Yer wife is gettin’ some rest, m’laird. Goodnight.”
He stared at her, a frown heavy on his face, and then he nodded dismissively. He returned, almost instantly, to being the leader of his clan once more. It made a chill pass through her bones to see him replace the mask so easily.