Page 7 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride

CHAPTER 7

No. There must be some mistake.

Maisie stared at that steely gaze for what felt like an eternity, a cold feeling spreading through her veins as she watched his expression darken with animalistic need.

She couldn’t believe her ears. How had this happened? She had barely had a civil conversation with the man. She had made her disdain for him so plain even a simpleton would see it.

Why me? Is he insane?

“Och, Maisie, this is wonderful!” her father said. She turned to him, completely numb, to see tears in his eyes as he gave her a brief but firm hug.

Everyone in the room was staring at them. Although there had been applause by obligation, no one in the room looked happy with his decision. Maisie’s heart was drumming in her chest, and the room grew warm.

MacLennan nodded at the councilmen, and then he turned to the other women at the tables. “Thank ye, ladies, for comin’ and participatin’. Please remain as long as ye wish and enjoy the rest of the feast.”

With a snap of his heels, he walked to the edge of the room to speak to Bram Wallace. In the background, Maisie could see Marcus Guthrie, a shadow in MacLennan’s wake, his eyes fixed on the laird with what looked like genuine contempt.

Maisie glanced across at Lillian. The poor girl looked devastated. Her aunt was subtly rubbing her back and it looked as though they both held back tears.

Why me?

“I’m so proud of ye,” her father said. She barely nodded in acknowledgment. “Maisie, can ye nae say somethin’?” he asked, peering at her with concern.

She turned to him, wiping away the tear running down her cheek. “I did nae think he would ever pick me, Da.”

“I ken that, my love, but it just shows what ye can achieve when ye apply yerself. This will mark a new future for us both. All our troubles are over!”

Her father sat back in his chair, looking elated. Maisie stared around her. Had she drifted into a nightmare? Could she wake up?

“Ye did it, Maisie!” her father said, laughing.

“I didnae have a choice,” she murmured softly.

Maisie hoped to go home and have some time to be herself before her life was over. It was a fool’s hope, however, for as soon as she rose from the table, a familiar figure walked up to her. She swallowed, glancing at Lillian, who gave her a faint smile.

“Congratulations, Miss Brown,” she said, “I wish ye both every happiness.” Her eyes were banked with unshed tears as her hands twisted in front of her.

“Thank ye,” Maisie said, about to say more when they were interrupted.

“Miss Guthrie?” Lillian turned as Bram Wallace approached, bowing to them both. “Might I speak with ye for a moment?” he asked, his eyes kind as he waited for her reply.

“Of…of course,” she said, glancing back at Maisie furtively and then dropping a quick curtsy before joining him.

Maisie watched them walk away as Bram put a conciliatory arm around Lillian’s shoulders.

“We have matters to arrange with the council.”

Maisie jumped at the deep voice behind her. She turned to see MacLennan watching her.

“ Do we?” she asked, the contempt in her voice obvious.

“Maisie,” her father said anxiously beside her.

MacLennan’s expression was unchanged, his easy manner from when they had been alone utterly removed, as though it had never been there. He stepped closer, his mountainous frame casting a stark shadow in the candlelight of the Great Hall.

“I dinnae care if ye hate me, but ye will be wed to me.”’

She blinked at him. “ Why do ye want to wed me ?” she asked helplessly. She heard the scrape of a chair and watched as her father left them, standing a respectful distance away. Maisie wanted to throw her chair at him.

“Should I nae have picked ye?” MacLennan asked.

“What possible reason dae ye have? We are at each other’s throats every time we speak.”

He took another step toward her, just far enough away to be decent, but his eyes were looking at her as though there was nothing decent about his intentions at all.

“I always get what I want, Maisie,” he murmured, the sound of her name on his lips doing strange things to her insides. “And I am goin’ to have ye. I will endure whatever ye throw at me,” he said, “for I have made me choice.”

Maisie searched his eyes for the laird she had seen in the gardens, but he was an impenetrable wall.

“We must meet with the council,” he repeated.

“Is that an order?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

He held out his arm, his gaze intense. “Aye, lass. Get used to them.”

And so, he led the two of them through the tables, past the disapproving gazes of almost everyone else in the hall, and into the back room.

This time they were joined by the other councilmen, including Marcus, and Bram Wallace. Bram was the only one who gave her a faint smile as they all gathered around their laird.

“Congratulations!” Marcus said—his smile did not reach his eyes.

There were many things that she wanted to address. She thought of giving her condolences about Lillian even—but before she could attempt it he was already gone.

Next to step forward was Bram Wallace. He was far easier in manner than Marcus. He took her hand in a looser grip and squeezed it reassuringly as he smiled at her.

“Charmed, Miss Brown. I am Bram Wallace, the head of the MacLennan council, and we are honored to have ye, lass.”

He had a crooked smile that should have been off-putting but was strangely charming.

She curtsied to him, and then MacLennan briskly introduced her to the others. It was a whirlwind of names she hadn’t a hope of remembering and she felt increasingly overwhelmed.

“Gentlemen,” James said, his deep voice commanding attention. “Let us proceed.”

She turned back to glance at him, there was the barest hint of smugness in the way his mouth was turned up at the corner. Her stomach sank to the floor as she imagined his self-satisfaction at having ‘won’ her.

“We’ll be wed in a week,” James declared.

“A week ?” Maisie exclaimed in tandem with Marcus and Bram.

James was unphased by their shocked expressions. “A week,” he repeated, turning to Maisie’s father, who had followed them into the room. “Is that enough time to gather yer kin, Mr. Brown?”

He nodded his head enthusiastically. “Aye, me laird.”

James nodded and turned his attention to Marcus. “Marcus, you’ll assist me in the paperwork?”

“A week, isnae that a bit soon?” Marcus spluttered.

“Ye all have been pressurin’ me for years to get wed.” He wrapped his arm suddenly around Maisie’s waist and pulled her against his solid body. “I’ve found the lass I want to wed, so I willnae wait any longer.”

“As is yer right, me laird,” Bram said. He put his hand on Marcus’s arm, holding him back from arguing any further. Marcus glanced at him, and he narrowed his eyes before looking back at MacLennan with a more neutral expression.

“Very well, as ye wish,” he conceded and stepped back. “Come, Mr. Brown.”

Maisie glanced at her father, a tightness in her chest that he was leaving her. James released her and there was a tense but brief exchange as her father approached. He clearly felt on display in front of so many onlookers.

“Well done, Maisie, I am proud of ye,” he said quietly. “I will see ye soon.”

He did not hug her, indeed, they did not touch at all, and Maisie felt bereft as he left the room.

Daenae leave me, she wanted to say, but he was already gone.

Maisie glanced up at James. From this close, she was struck with just how tall he was, and it knocked the breath out of her.

He smirked. “Aye, Miss Brown? Anythin’ to add?”

She had little choice but to go through with things now, it seemed that everything had been decided for her.

She thought of her father and how happy he seemed. Even just now his face was more relaxed than she had seen it in weeks.

She would do this for his sake, and she would find a way to manage somehow.

As she made her decision an older woman entered the room, curtsying to MacLennan before glancing at Maisie.

“That’s Mrs. Murray, she’ll take ye to yer quarters,” James stated.

“I’m stayin’ here?” Maisie exclaimed. She knew others who had traveled a fair distance would be staying as guests for the night, but she had expected to go home until they were wed.

“Aye,” James said shortly, with no warmth or humor. “Now off with ye.”

“I’ll show ye the way, Miss Brown!” Mrs. Murray said. She had a buxom, homely figure. And an easy smile—Maisie had not had many people smile at her since she’d arrived at the castle.

Maisie picked up her pace to follow her, the whole world moving too fast for her mind to comprehend.

“My, ye are a bonnie lass” Mrs. Murray cooed, admiring Maisie from top to bottom. “Ye’ll make a fine lady of the castle.”

Maisie forced a smile, wondering whether that had been some of the reason MacLennan had picked her. She would not expect anything less from a man so vacuous that he based his choice of bride on her answers to just three questions.

As Mrs. Murray guided her through the castle, it grew even bigger in Maisie’s mind. The long corridors and stone walls boxed her in, making her feel like a prisoner. It was a cage, no matter how big and beautiful it might be.

Her bed chamber, when they reached it, was far grander than she expected. It had a large bed with fine sheets. The furniture looked old and well cared for and included an armoire for all her clothes.

It is a shame I only have the dress on me back to fill it with.

“Miss Foster, yer maid, will be up shortly to help ye change,” Mrs. Murray said.

“Och, that’s?—”

“I’ve supplied ye with a few dresses until we can have yer things sent for,” Mrs. Murray said.

Maisie wondered just how many children she’d cared for, women she’d clothed, and people she’d fed.

“Thank ye,” Maisie said automatically. Mrs. Murray was the first person to be kind to her all day.

“If I may say so,” Mrs. Murray continued, “I’m glad he chose ye. Ye seem a good lass with a good head on yer shoulders.”

Just then, a young woman with raven hair burst into the room, tripping over her skirts. She looked up with an expression of horror when she caught sight of Maisie.

“Sorry I’m late, ma’am,” she said to Mrs. Murray.

The housekeeper shook her head affectionately. “Ye’re here now, ye can help the lady out of her gown and into something more suitable for bed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl said with a slight curtsy.

“This is Jean Foster,” Mrs. Murray said to Maisie, indicating the bright young maid. “Let her ken if ye need anythin’, all right?”

“Where are Laird MacLennan’s chambers?” Maisie asked tentatively, hoping they might be in another wing of the castle.

“That door there, miss,” Mrs. Murray said, gesturing to a dark oak doorway only five feet from the side of Maisie’s bed. “There is a corridor between the rooms, and he is just at the other end of it.”

He could reach out and touch me in his sleep if he chose to.

Maisie felt her head swimming again, just as it had in the gardens. The reality of her situation descended on her so violently that she found it difficult to breathe.

“Are ye all right, Miss Brown?” Mrs. Murray asked, coming forward looking deeply concerned.

“I need to see Laird MacLennan,” Maisie said desperately. “Now!”