Page 4 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride
CHAPTER 4
Give me the strength to get through this day.
James had never been through anything so tedious in his life.
His desk was overflowing with missives regarding the clan and letters from his tenants. He would much rather be seeing to their wishes than standing here trying to woo a bride he had no interest to wed.
But instead, here he was attempting to maintain a mask of polite interest as he listened to yet another forgettable brunette.
His irritated gaze fell on Bram and Marcus, who stood with their heads bowed together against the wall at the edge of the courtyard. He should not have let them persuade him to go through with this. It was pure idiocy to gather all these women together for the sole purpose of vying for his attention.
I dinnae need a wife, and I dinnae wish to choose one who is only here because her mother instructed her to be.
His eyes moved to Miss Brown. She had come with her father, it was true. She did not seem to wish to be here anymore than he did, and that was unusual. Maybe she doesnae think I’m a suitable catch, he thought with a smirk.
He wondered why she had come at all. She seemed an intelligent woman, with a spark in her eyes that held a challenge in it. As soon as he had met her in the gardens, he had felt there was something different about her, but he was not yet sure what it was.
He had found her conduct amusing, which surprised him. He rarely found a woman who spoke to him with any level of defiance, yet despite now knowing who he was, she didn’t seem demure around him. Quite the contrary.
His father’s stoic face drifted through his mind.
What would he think of this performance? He wondered.
James felt his teeth grind together—his father would likely find it laughable that his son had to go to such lengths to secure a bride. It was not as though the late laird had any trouble on that score.
“—and we have long since been eager to attend an event here, m’laird. We are most grateful for ye extendin’ the invitation to our Fiona.”
James glanced down at the girl’s mother, who was almost as forgettable as her daughter. He nodded, gave a shallow bow, and turned away from them all with a murmur of apology.
The strange truth of it was that Miss Brown reminded him of his younger self. Her posture was firm, as if ready for battle. She seemed strong, independent, and quite unlike the swooning ladies that surrounded him now.
James found himself fantasizing about her golden curls. Were they soft? How were they scented? He wanted to run his fingers through them, bring his nose up to her crown, just to find out.
He shook himself, surprised at his reaction, trying to think what it was about her that had sparked it. It was almost as though, in only a few short minutes, she had seen more of who he truly was than any other.
She was fighting her lot in life with everything she had, and she clearly had no interest in fighting for his hand.
I respected her. He realized. She had fire inside her.
There was the loud ringing of a bell from the entrance of the castle and James kept his face blank as Marcus stepped forward. His arms were spread wide to the crowd of men and women who were present.
“Me lords, ladies and gentlemen, please come inside. The feast is ready, and we have quite an evening ahead of us. Today, we decide who will become the future Lady MacLennan, and I know we are all eager to begin! Follow me, please.”
The crowd began to slowly walk up the steps to the castle, and James hung back. He didn’t want to be seen to be rushing to find his bride in the throng.
He watched Miss Brown ascend the steps with her father enjoying the opportunity to run his eyes over her curves. She was different from the other women in the party, less elegant, less refined somehow. He supposed if he told her as much, she would take it as an insult, but he meant it as a compliment. He was so bored of the women he had to converse with on a daily basis. Hardly any of them had anything about them or simply agreed with everything he said. He had a feeling that his garden snapdragon would revel in defying him.
He liked the idea of seeing those intelligent eyes darken with interest, perhaps even lust. He wanted to see that stubborn mouth melt into desperate need. What would she look like if she had to beg him? What might she look like on her knees, all that righteous anger focused solely on him?
He shivered. She certainly had presented herself as a unique prospect. Every other woman present could have been a carbon copy of Lillian.
He grimaced inwardly as his eyes moved to Lillian. The young blonde moved through the crowd, talking to Bram Wallace as she walked behind her aunt.
She was Marcus’ niece, and James had known her all his life. But he had never even considered the idea that they would wed. Marcus and many others might favor the match, but James would not take a wife purely to keep the peace.
Lillian was too young, too na?ve for the likes of him. Not to mention, he was far too stern for her. He had never been able to hold a conversation with her without getting instantly distracted. She spoke of nothing but how much she admired him, or her love of his castle and his lands. It was as though someone had given her a script that she was reading word for word just to impress him.
Miss Brown did not speak like that. She challenged him, questioned him. Made him think.
He huffed out a breath as the last stragglers entered the hall and he caught Marcus’s eyes as he approached him.
“All well, m’laird? Ready for the feast?”
“I dinnae ken why I allowed ye to convince me of this,” he muttered.
Marcus gave him a firm slap on the shoulder and chuckled.
“How else would ye find a wife,” he asked under his breath. “Ye are busier than ten men. This will all turn out well, so come along. At the very least, once it is decided the rest of the council will never be able to ask when ye will wed again.”
James scoffed. The man had a point. And with that advantage in mind, he went inside to find his bride.
Maisie stared around her at the great hall and tried not to gape. It was a beautiful room—incredibly grand, with high ceilings and ornate stone carvings at every corner depicting monsters and birds of prey.
The MacLennan colors adorned every wall in large, pointed banners on either side of the high windows. The cheerful golds and greens lifted the darkness of the stone, making everything seem welcoming and warm.
A huge fire roared behind the high table with two long swords crossed above the mantel and a boar’s head mounted on a shield above them, its white fangs pointing to the ceiling.
She had never been in a place this imposing before, and she could see that her father was trying to hide how impressed he was with the room.
“Perhaps I should wed him simply for his castle,” Maisie stated sardonically, trying to lift the mood.
Her father glanced at her wearily but gave her a half smile. “If I had kent that would persuade ye, I would have brought ye inside earlier.”
She managed a laugh, but it was hollow at best. She did not want a castle. She wanted a small wood-paneled room, a quiet house, and a chess board to entertain her. That was all she had ever needed.
In front of the high table, several smaller tables had been placed strategically around the room. The other families and prospective brides were taking their seats.
Against her will, Maisie’s gaze flickered to James, who was walking over to his table. He had the air of a laird about him, that was certain. The other members of the council paled in comparison to his huge frame.
She settled into her seat, determined to do everything possible to ensure that she and her father would be going home tonight. Everything with his business could be resolved; she was sure of it, and they could work things out together as a family.
As the first course of venison and potatoes was brought out, Maisie watched the other girls. They sat demurely in their places, eating sparingly, and continually glancing at MacLennan.
He had not looked up from his table once and his disinterest in the proceedings only made her more determined to repel him. She watched him for a few minutes. It seemed to her that his neutral expression was not real, somehow. As though the man in the gardens she had met was the real laird, and this man was putting on a show for his people.
As the first course was cleared away, Marcus Guthrie finally stood up from the high table, and everyone fell silent.
“We bring ye all to this most excellent feast, as the guests of Laird James MacLennan,” he said, his voice echoing about the room. “Ye are most welcome. I shall now introduce the ladies here present.”
He opened a piece of parchment in his hands and began to read out the names one by one. Some were from far further afield than Maisie would ever have expected.
“Miss Lillian Guthrie,” Marcus called, and Lillian bowed to the smattering of applause that followed. Many on the high table raised their glasses to her; she was clearly well-known and well-liked.
“Miss Thomasina Brown and her father, Mr. Archie Brown,” Marcus announced.
“It’s Maisie ,” she stated instantly, not quite realizing how quiet the hall had become. Her voice carried loudly through the silence. She felt her cheeks darken with a blush, and her father raised his eyes to the heavens in despair.
Marcus cleared his throat, bowing slightly to Maisie. “Me apologies, Miss Maisie Brown.”
She did not miss the look of amusement on MacLennan’s face. Maisie only hoped that would make it easier to lose. Who wanted a bride with such a ridiculous name?
“Must ye deliberately embarrass me?” her father implored.
“Ye are the one who gave me the fool name, and ye are the one who dragged me here. Ye should have told them it was Maisie and this wouldnae have happened.”
He huffed as he took a sip of his wine and stared determinedly at the front of the room, his jaw clenched.
Maisie sighed. She had always hated her full name. It was one that her mother had chosen, and she had never liked it. To her, it just reminded her that her parent’s true wish had been to have a boy.
Her mother had had the name Thomas picked out for months before she was born. Although her father had pretended they had been most happy to meet her, she knew that in his heart he would have loved to have an heir.
If I were a ‘Thomas’ we wouldnae be in this situation, she thought miserably. I could have helped Da run the business and I wouldnae have let it get in this state.
She picked up the glass of wine in front of her as the rest of the names were read out. She tipped the glass to one side and then the other, aware that her father was observing her do it. She had never tried wine before, she took a tentative sip, feeling the thick taste pass down her throat. She frowned at it.
“Dinnae drink that,” her father said quietly.
“And why nae?.”
“Because yer tongue is loose enough without liquor,” he said sternly, hypocritically taking up his own glass and drinking almost half of it.
She rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair, repressing the urge to fold her arms over her chest like a petulant child.
“And now,” Marcus continued, folding up the paper and looking round at them all with a smile. “We’re goin’ to ask ye ladies three questions. Answer as well as ye can and as truthfully as ye can, and the laird will deliberate on which he finds the most appealin’,” he concluded.
There was a great buzz of excitement from everyone about the room. Maisie wished she could slide under the table and never come out.
All I have to dae is answer differently from all the others. This man doesnae want a bride who is outspoken, he wants a woman who’ll dote on him. And that will never be me!