Page 9 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Bride

CHAPTER 9

Maisie spent the next days in turmoil.

She woke from fitful dreams of James’s huge torso, his thick fingers hovering either side of her face, his lips whispering against her cheek. And she took her meals alone, with no sign of the laird anywhere. She began to get a glimpse of what her life inside the castle would be like.

A single welcome discovery came in the form of the library, which was magnificent! The walls were full of books stretching up to the high ceilings—more books than Maisie had ever seen in all her life.

Her days were made immeasurably more enjoyable as she curled up in one of the armchairs with a thick tome on the history of Greece or a complicated herbal treatise. Jean brought her tea, and she could spend a few happy minutes immersed in the past, not having to think of the present. Or worse, the future.

Her tranquility was shattered one morning, when Mrs. Murray discovered her after breakfast for her wedding dress fitting.

The seamstress had brought a variety of fabrics for her to choose from and, despite herself, Maisie felt excitement flutter in her chest. She had always enjoyed shopping, and throughout her life, her father had made up for his frequent absences by buying her dresses from all over the world.

The satin displayed before her was exceedingly fine, and Maisie saw a glimmer of brocade and even a few precious lengths of silk. It was quite an overwhelming array. As she looked over the colors a dark blue caught her eye.

“Och, that’ll look bonnie with yer eyes, Miss Brown,” Mrs. Murray said enthusiastically.

Maisie tried a few gowns before she found the right fit. A wide skirt and tight waist, with long elegant sleeves. She had never felt so well-dressed. Her father’s gifts were always of the best quality, but the laird had a different type of wealth behind him. The dress she chose was embroidered and beaded with roses all over.

“It is beautiful,” she said to the seamstress.

Mrs. Murray smiled. “Doesnae she look bonnie?”

“Aye, that she does,” the seamstress said, her eyes twinkling. “We can make this up in the fabric ye chose, m’lady.”

It felt mundane to return to her other dress, but at least that meant she could get back to her reading.

Only, she could not, for as soon as the fitting had ended she was asked her opinion about food, cake, and decorations.

Every discussion included what Laird MacLennan might want. He seemed to be at the forefront of everyone’s minds, and yet Maisie could not have a single conversation with the man himself. Since their altercation in the study, she had hardly seen him. Every time she asked where the laird might be, he was ‘out with his clan’.

She wasn’t sure if she resented him for not trying harder or if she was thankful for the space. Either way, she was still angry with him for that display in his study and his arrogant assumption she would ever beg him to touch her.

At last, after days of discourse with the cook, dress fittings, and hiding in the library, the week was finally over.

Maisie should have been relieved, but instead, she was finding it impossible to sleep. She thought she had adjusted to the castle admirably given the circumstances, but the prospect of the wedding and all that might follow was keeping her awake.

Maisie tossed and turned, her mind tormented by thoughts of her life as she had known it coming to an end. She would no longer be a dutiful daughter with at least the illusion of freedom; she would now be bound to James MacLennan forever.

She grunted and pushed the covers back from her bed. Back at home, she always snacked on spare bannocks and honey when she could not sleep; maybe that could be her remedy now, too.

She had acquainted herself with the castle's layout during the week, so she had no trouble finding the kitchen, even in the dark. The embers burned in the fireplace, giving the air a lingering smokey warmth. It smelled of mince pies, roast pork, and all the bread they had been baking in preparation for tomorrow. At least the wedding feast would be delicious, even if the rest of the event was miserable.

Maisie spotted a covered basket of bannocks and made for it, her stomach growling loudly. She searched the cupboards for a side plate and placed some bannocks on it before retrieving a knife and a jar of honey.

She brought her small feast to the steps just inside the kitchen door, feeling strangely contented in the dusky darkness all about her. It brought back memories of her childhood when she would sneak downstairs for sweets.

She was halfway through her first bannock when heavy footsteps sounded behind her. She turned to find MacLennan standing behind her, looking at her in confusion.

“Ye shouldnae be up,” he said, glowering at her. There was very little light and his huge frame looked even larger in the darkness.

“ Ye are up,” she said evenly, taking another bite of her bannock, trying to ignore the fact that his looming presence was making her stomach flutter with nerves. This was the longest conversation they’d had all week.

“Ye should be sleepin’,” James continued, taking a step forward. “Go back to yer chambers.”

“I am hungry,” she said, taking a big bite of her bannock.

“It’s after midnight.”

“Aye, and I cannae sleep, what’s yer reason for sneakin’ about in the kitchens after dark?”

“This is me castle. I can dae as I like.”

Maisie’s reply was simply to turn away from him and continue covering the biscuits in honey.

“Are ye just goin’ to ignore me?” James asked.

She swallowed. “I am followin’ yer example, m’laird,” Maisie said, “since ye willnae bother to speak with me, despite the fact that we are to be wed tomorrow, I willnae bother to obey yer whims.”

James ground his foot into the stone floor. “I am to be yer husband, and ye are to do as I say.”

“But ye are nae my husband yet, are ye?” She raised her brow at him. “And ye have still nae told me why ye have ignored me all week. If I am in fact to be yer wife, I should think ye would want to get to know me.”

James grunted, scratching his jaw and looking into the kitchen. “I was busy preparin’ for our weddin’,” he growled, “and takin’ care of clan matters. The clan doesnae stop needin’ a laird because he has found a wife.”

“What preparations have ye done?”

“What?”

“What preparations have ye done? I would like to ken, seein’ as that is all I have been doin’ all week.”

James’s eyes narrowed at her as he walked down the steps and stood at the bottom, turning to face her with a frown.

“The usual things,” he attempted. “Seein’ to the staff?—”

“Nae, I have done that. Everythin’ has been done to yer likin’ I might add, but I havenae heard a single servant say ye have given them even an hour of yer time.”

James huffed irritably. “I have been preparin’ me mind for the occasion.”

Maisie actually found herself laughing at that. “Well, that must have been keepin’ ye very busy then, m’laird.”

“Ye will get back to yer room, woman.”

“I will nae,” she said firmly and placed her plate on the ground beside her as she stood up. In their positions, she was almost as tall as him, and she leveled him with a fierce glare.

“I havenae seen anythin’ of ye for days,” she spat. “My Da was gone for months at a time, but he always made me feel like the center of his world when he was away. He treated me with more respect as his daughter than ye dare to show me as yer future wife.”

Maisie looked him over. His jaw was clenched, his brow furrowed, and his eyes bored into hers with an intensity that made her heart pound wildly in her chest.

“I’m goin’ to wed ye out of duty to my family, and nothin’ more,” Maisie continued. “But I would have much preferred to wed a man who proved to be a true gentleman, with integrity. I have seen nae evidence of that since I met ye.”

“And what dae ye ken of gentlemen, having lived all yer life in such a small house, knowin’ so little of the world?”

“Plenty!”

“I’m sure—ye ken as much about household politics, and promoting servants above their station as I do about weddin’ gowns.”

“Ha!” Maisie exclaimed, pointing her finger in the middle of his chest, her face now barely inches from his. “So ye did think my answers were foolish! Why would ye choose me when ye could have picked any of the other girls?”

“Because I wanted ye !” he bellowed.

Maisie froze in place staring at him.

He was positively vibrating now, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes blazing at her.

The dim light of the kitchen highlighted the curve of his neck and the strong corded muscles beneath. “Ye… ye want me?” Maisie asked. Her breath was coming quickly. Her thoughts moved to the study, remembering his huge frame up against hers. She wanted to feel that again, to experience all that repressed strength come forth once more.

“Aye, I want ye,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble. “I couldnae stop thinkin’ of ye since I first saw ye, as aggravatin’ as ye are.” He brought his hand up, nearly touching her face.

Her breath hitched. He was so close, his expression soft again, his guard down. She could feel the heat of his muscles permeating the air between them. The heavy rasp of his breaths counteracted her own unsteady breathing. Would he close the distance?

She lifted her face toward his, her lips parting as his hand lowered over her body. It hovered an inch away from her nightgown all the way down to her waist.

He stepped up onto the bottom step, finally raising himself above her. She sidestepped him, her back hitting the wall as he advanced on her, and she let out a small cry of surprise.

He was a hair’s breadth from her body now as he raised one foot to the step above, his hips at an angle, tantalizingly close to the join of her legs.

“Are ye ready to beg me, lass?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Ye’ve disregarded me all week, and now ye decide ye need me?”

He lowered his head to hers, his wide mouth and full lips inches from her own.

“Ye didnae speak to me either, lass, perhaps we should both do better with each other.”

She scoffed. “Ye are the one who wanted a bride, Laird MacLennan, the effort is yours.”

Her breath stuttered as he whispered his lips over the skin of her cheek.

“Call me by me name, lass, seein’ as ye are to be me wife.”

“I will dae nae such thing.”

“Say it, Maisie, or I shall call ye Thomasina for the rest of yer days.”

Maisie glowered at him, but the need that was flooding through her body was undeniable. She wanted to resist but found it impossible to do so with him so close, his scent enveloping her as he moved ever closer.

“James,” she murmured, lowering herself as her back connected with the wall behind.

“Will ye beg me then, lass?” His body was fully against hers, his weight pressing into her as his hand moved between them. His fingers curled over her thigh, and she shuddered helplessly.

“Never,” she whispered softly.

Hang her rules—she is mine!

James crushed his lips over hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and pushing his hips into her as his hand moved gently over her breast. She gave a low moan of surprise, and he pulled back a little.

“I’ll make ye feel things no one else ever can,” he growled. “I’ll ruin ye, and ye’ll plead with me to claim ye,” he said rocking his hips against hers, the thin nightgown barely stopping him from pushing inside her there and then. “This is nae yer bedchamber, lass, ye will please me here in whatever way I command of ye.”

But even as he dove back in for another kiss her hands came up and pushed him away violently. He landed back against the wall on the other side of the step.

They were both panting, regaining their breath as she glared at him furiously.

“Ye can claim another prize , of yer choosin’, James MacLennan. I wouldnae lie with ye if ye were the last man on earth!” she hissed, and then she stormed up the steps and away from him, leaving him with his legs cocked on the step, and so aroused he could barely stand.