Page 8 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride
CHAPTER 8
One week and I’ll be wed, and then I can focus on what truly matters—me clan.
James sat at his desk in his study with a large glass of whisky in his hand, staring at the fire. He was half-dressed, having shed the formal clothing he had been forced to wear all-day; his léine hung loose as he sat slumped in his chair.
He was trying unsuccessfully to quiet his clamoring mind, his thoughts going in every direction at once. He knew he had hundreds of things to attend to for the clan, and that should have been his focus. Yet his mind was dragged back to Maisie more often than not. He wondered how she was feeling. What she was doing at that moment.
He knew that half his council thought him mad for his choice, but there had been no doubt in his mind who to pick.
He threw back his whisky and poured himself another just as there was a hesitant knock on the door. He looked at the clock in surprise. It was after midnight; it could only be his man-at-arms at this hour.
“Yes!” he shouted, irritated at the interruption. The irritation swiftly turned to shock as his housekeeper opened the door, only to reveal Maisie behind her, her blue eyes meeting his urgently.
He scowled. “Is it important, Mrs. Murray?”
Before the housekeeper could say a word, the hellion woman had barged inside, her hands on her hips. Her slim waist was accentuated by the dark green dress she still wore, her hair falling against her shoulders in soft curls.
James gave Mrs. Murray an exasperated glance and then shooed her away. The woman took an age closing the door, as though uncertain whether to leave her charge alone with him.
“Was there somethin’ ye wanted?” he growled, taking another large gulp of whisky.
“Why, are ye particularly occupied at this present minute?” she asked — and well she might. He was in a state of undress; his boots kicked off and beside the fire.
“What is it, woman?” he asked, forcing himself to remain seated even though he was desperate to get close to her again. Her lips were puckered together disapprovingly, and he entertained himself by thinking up ways to make them pliant toward him.
He certainly seemed to have a talent for infuriating her. It was a shame he found her temper so captivating, or he might have been inclined to stop.
He relished the idea of being the only man who could soothe her ire. He could bank up her temper until she was spitting fire and then know just the words and touches that would pacify her.
“We didnae speak,” she said irritably. “After ye made yer announcement, I havenae seen hide nor hair of ye, and I think we should agree on some terms before we embark on this farce of a marriage.”
“Is that right?” he asked.
“Yes. It is. And I have some conditions.”
James almost laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been spoken down to by someone half his height.
“Dae ye indeed?” he said, leaning deliberately back in his chair and watching her eyes grow wide, following the line of his léine down to the top of his kilt. He let his legs fall open suggestively as he took another sip of his drink. “By all means, tell me what they are.”
Her eyes were glued to the hem of his kilt. It had ridden up and was resting just above his knees. He watched her throat constrict as she swallowed, and arousal began the slow, pleasant burn down his spine.
“Ye wanted a marriage of convenience, and that is what ye shall have, m’laird.”
“Is that what I wanted, lass?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. He watched her shudder with a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Aye, it is.”
“And what makes ye so sure?”
“Nae man chooses a wife the way ye did.”
“The way me council did, lass, if I had my way I wouldnae have a wife at all.”
A blush suffused her cheeks. She looked horrified.
“Well, then we shouldnae wed at all if ye didnae even want me.”
He snorted, the whisky warming his blood. “That isnae what I said. I said I didnae want a wife.” He let his eyes run down to her toes and back up to her outraged expression. “I didnae say a thing about nae wantin’ ye .”
She scoffed. “This marriage is a business deal. Yer council is satisfied, and so are yer people.”
It seemed the only person who isnae satisfied right now is me. By God, the woman is magnificent when she’s ragin’.
“Ye have it all worked out, lass.”
“Then we keep separate rooms,” she said boldly, her chin lifting defiantly as she cleared her throat.
“I have nae objection to that,” he said, leaning back even further, putting down his glass, and interlacing his fingers over his almost bare chest. He watched with amusement as she averted her gaze to the fire. “But even if I dinnae want a wife. I dae need an heir.”
Her eyes widened comically, and even the tips of her ears went red at that comment. Her eyes were such an unusual blue. He had a notion that side by side, their eyes would look like a blue sky with a storm passing through it.
“Ye are very direct,” she said coldly. “Dae ye always speak this way?”
“When there’s somethin’ I want. Yes,” he replied, finally rising from his seat.
He walked toward her, deliberately flexing his muscles as he did it. Her blue eyes darkened and her lips parted before she had a chance to prevent it, and James grinned.
“If I get an heir, ye can live yer life as ye see fit. We dinnae even have to speak to each other if it isnae strictly necessary. Ye can have the run of the grounds, yer pick of the rooms. I’ll leave ye be, and ye can dae the same with me.”
“So ye can entertain other women all over the castle?” she asked archly.
He stopped, the instant feeling of repulsion invading his whole body.
Nae lass. Never that. I have seen what comes of womanizing. That will never be who I become.
He did not say that, however, affecting a casual tone.
“Hardly,” he replied dismissively, “me duty is to me clan. I have nae need for anythin’ else. Me place is with me people—it always will be.”
Maisie hesitated.
She knew a laird’s place was with his people, but what he described suggested she would simply exchange one lonely life for another. She thought of the miles of endless corridors in the castle, of walking them every day without a companion or a friend in the world.
His dark eyes were observing her quizzically, something in his gaze that seemed curious. She tried to school her expression as best she could.
The silence stretched as they stared at one another and finally, with a snarl, he advanced on her. She gasped as he used his bulk to move her backward until her shoulders connected with the wall behind her.
“Ye’re a brute,” she said angrily.
“Aye, perhaps,” MacLennan replied, his eyes twinkling. “And ye’ll be wed to me in a week’s time, and then we can be monsters together.”
“What exactly am I to dae in this castle while ye are seein’ to yer clan every minute of the day?”
“Anythin’ ye like.”
She almost laughed. He spent his life with duties overflowing on his desk. He would have little understanding of the isolation she felt day to day.
He clearly didn’t like her suggestion that he would be entertaining women all over the Highlands. It gave her a pulse of pleasure to know he would be faithful to her.
But his reaction had revealed something else. She wondered what he would say if it were the other way around. I need somethin’ to entertain meself after all.
“Anythin’?” she asked suggestively putting enough of an edge to her voice that he could not miss her meaning.
She trembled as a dark threat loomed in his eyes. His hands came up, bracketing either side of her head, his face inches from her own. “If ye ever let another man touch ye, I’ll tie ye to me bed for the rest of yer life so only I can have me way with ye.”
Maisie felt the same shudder of alarmed need rush through her. It was just as it had been in the gardens. This was the same domineering man she had known, unguarded—no longer the prim and proper laird he was with his council.
His strength and physical dominance over her were wickedly arousing. The idea that he wouldn’t let another man touch her, and would punish her if she ever tried was strangely comforting.
He cannot be entirely indifferent to me, she thought, hope springing in her heart.
She shuddered again as he pressed his nose into her hair, breathing deeply.
“I’ll have me heir, whether ye like it or nae, but I willnae force ye. Ye’ll come to me when ye cannae stand it any longer, ye’ll beg me to touch ye, and I’ll worship yer body until ye scream,” he said, as he brought his teeth down on the curve of her ear. She jolted against him, a low moan breaking free against her will.
But then, to her dismay, he stepped back, leaving her pressed heavily into the wall, panting from her own desire. He glanced away, taking in a deep breath, those large hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he seemed to gather himself.
Finally, he looked back at her. That penetrating stare cut through to the bone.
“Until ye beg me, I’ll adhere to every condition ye’ve given me, lass, we’ll see how long that lasts.”
Without another word, she ran to the door and fled.
James entered the stables the following morning with a thick head and a worse temper.
He found Kenzie, his beautiful chestnut mare, in the end stall. She greeted him enthusiastically nuzzling his chest and nickering softly as he combed through her mane.
His thoughts were dwelling in dark places that morning.
Through the night, he’d had scattered dreams of his father, of chasing him down endless corridors, never able to catch him.
He had finally rounded the last corner only to be faced with Maisie at the end of it. It was clear what his mind was telling him. He could not afford to be distracted by her. He would not betray his clan as his father had done and chase skirt from dawn until dusk.
Kenzie kicked out lightly with her foot, and he lessened the strokes of the brush, patting her neck.
His exchange with Maisie in his study had been impulsive and rash. He’d fought against every muscle in his body not to take her right there against the wall. He was still astonished he hadn’t stopped her mouth with his own, given what she had said to him.
No other man will touch that woman as long as I live.
He snarled angrily at his own possessive feelings and tried to redirect his attention to Kenzie, grabbing her saddle and beginning to tie the straps around her belly.
Perhaps, one day, Maisie would accompany him on a ride. He shifted his weight, thinking of her body practically in his lap in front of him. He would wrap one arm around her, tugging her against him. Perhaps she would feel his arousal reach back and?—
“Good mornin’, m’laird!”
James jolted sharply as his man-at-arms entered the stables with a wide smile on his face. Harris was smaller in stature than most men who took up his position, but he made up for it in breadth. He looked wider by the day, his muscles rivaling James’s own and his dark hair almost as long as the beard which stretched to his chest.
Harris was proud of his beard. He spent more time tending to it than he did with the horses. It always looked immaculate. Today was no exception.
“What has ye so cheerful?” Harris asked jovially. James gave him a grunt in reply. “I was lookin’ for ye to talk about the MacAllister’s estate, but it looks like ye have other things on yer mind.”
James busied himself with securing the saddle. He had not even considered his clan business until Harris had reminded him of it.
Get yer mind out of the gutter and back on yer duty.
“Have the families paid up?” he asked.
“Nae all of them; John MacAllister is adamant he will evict.”
James shook his head. “I willnae hear of it.”
“That’s what I told him, but he says they’re two months late, and he has other tenants who would be willin’ to pay the increase.”
James set his jaw, knowing how difficult such disputes could be.
The Banham family had been on MacLennan land since his father’s time. They rented a property overseen by John MacAllister, an uncompromising but loyal man who it had taken James years to get on his side.
The head of the Banham household, the oldest son, had sustained an injury that made him unfit for work. They’d been scraping by, and John MacAllister was reluctant to delay eviction any longer.
“I’ll speak with him again.”
“I told him ye would.”
James smiled ruefully. “Ye think I should let this go?”
“Nae, I dinnae,” Harris said, all trace of humor fading. “The Banham family have lived there for nearly forty years. Two months is nothin’ and the lad’ll get back on his feet.”
“Keep an eye on it, will ye?”
“Always dae,” Harris replied, walking into the stall beside Kenzie’s and bringing out Islay, his own black mare, who he spoiled more than any man should.
“I dinnae ken ye were ridin’ with me?” James said, raising his eyebrows.
“And miss the stories from the contest? Ye must be a madman.”
James just shook his head. “It is nothin’ so very intriguing.”
“Och aye? Ye dinnae have some bonnie girl in yer rooms then, I must have been misinformed.”
“By whom, I wonder?” James asked, knowing full well that Harris had long desired Jean Foster, Maisie’s assigned maid. For such a handsome man, Harris had little confidence when it came to matters of the heart.
“Never ye mind, will ye tell me or nae?”
James sighed, scratching behind Kenzie’s ears.
“She’s a bonnie lass, very bonnie. Sharp wit. Sensible. Enough stubbornness to compete with a donkey, but she was dragged here against her will. Her faither wants her wed, and I need a wife. That’s all.”
Harris pulled himself into Islay’s saddle as James did the same. Together, they rode out of the stables.
“So, bed the girl and have done,” Harris said blithely and then recoiled at James’s sharp look, his expression turning sour.
“I didnae mean?—"
“I ken what ye meant. What all men mean. Dae ye think I dinnae ken what me faither’s wayward ways cost this clan? I shall never be like him.”
“I never would have implied—it’s nae the same. She’ll be yer wife!”
“I dinnae need a wife!” James bellowed, and Harris set his jaw, falling silent. “I hadnae even considered the MacAllister’s,” James confessed irritably. “The Banham’s lease was up yesterday. I should have been there this mornin’ at first light, reasonin’ with John, but instead, I’m… me head’s all over the place.”
“That’s what ye have me for.”
“I should be focused on me people.”
Harris’s expression soured, and he gripped the reins a little harder in his fists. “M’laird, ye cannae work yerself to death.”
“Me faither didnae work himself to death.”
“Nae, he just insisted that ye should while he went all over the clan beddin’ women as he pleased.”
James gave him a warning look. “I am happy with me people.”
“But they cannae care for ye, m’laird.”
“I dinnae need anyone to care for me, I need to dae me duty! The only thing women bring to yer life is trouble; I learned that long ago.” He kicked Kenzie hard in her flank, and the horse reared before she cantered away.
He was not surprised to find that Harris did not follow him.
He’s wrong. Me people are what matters and they’re me focus. I dinnae need anyone else, especially not Miss Maisie Brown!