Page 5 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Hellion (Auctioned Highland Brides #4)

“You are certainly going to be living a different life where you are headed.”

Lydia glanced at her mother standing behind her, both she and Tommy were staring wide-eyed at the enormous, gleaming carriage that had arrived to collect Lydia that morning.

It was so large that it dominated most of the driveway.

Large and imposing, just like its master.

When Lydia had risen that morning, she hadn’t known what to expect from her “transportation” up to Scotland.

The only information she had of the Laird was that he was wealthy. Yet, he had arrived on horseback at the auction and left the same way. She had even considered whether she might have to ride side-saddle all the way to the castle.

By the time she went down to breakfast, she had visions of a wagon arriving, driven by some wizened old man with no teeth.

Instead, the carriage that greeted her was sleek, well-maintained, and bearing the crest of the Murray clan on the doors.

“It certainly is impressive,” her mother said, stepping up beside her. Lydia nodded, staring at the carriage, a sense of trepidation running through her.

The driver was a large man with bright red hair tied in a ponytail down his back. He wasn’t half as big as Laird Murray, but intimidating nonetheless.

He leaped down from the carriage, towering over her mother and Lydia, and bowed low.

“Lady Lydia?” he asked.

“Yes, I am Lydia Turner.”

“A pleasure to meet ye, M’Lady. I am Alexander Monteith, the Laird’s man-at-arms. He sent me to see that nae harm comes to ye on the journey.”

“That was kind of him,” her mother murmured as Tommy stepped up to Alexander, pointing at his belt.

“You have a sword.”

Alexander grinned. “Aye, lad, would ye like to see it?”

“No!” her mother said quickly, stepping forward protectively. “No, he has quite enough in his head of weapons without seeing that.”

Alexander chuckled. “Allow me to assist ye with your belongings M’Lady,” he said, waving away their servants as he bent down to lift the trunks himself.

“Are you not tired?” Lydia asked. “Surely, you would like to stay for a little while. You must have been traveling through the night.”

“It is nay trouble, M’Lady. I am used to long journeys, and I ken that the Laird is keen for ye to arrive as soon as possible. I dinnae wish to delay things.”

Alexander paused, eyeing the trunks that Lydia had packed, frowning at them.

“Is that all ye’er bringin’?”

Lydia’s heart picked up speed as she heard her father approaching.

In truth, she could have packed several more trunks, but had chosen to leave many of her gowns behind.

Her father rarely furnished her with new dresses unless he needed her to fulfill a task for him. The Duke had bought her a new gown for her auction, but that was the first one in months.

At the start of every Season, he would groan and agonize over the money he had to spend at the modiste, penny pinching on everything. As a result, Lydia hated almost every dress she owned.

They were not to her taste and simply reminded her of what a burden she was to him.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I will not be needing anything else.”

Alexander nodded, his gaze flicking to the Duke before he rubbed his hands together.

“Nay trouble. Less for me to carry, then.”

He lifted the trunks as if they weighed nothing, and Lydia could not help but smile as her brother’s little mouth fell open.

“You are so strong!” he marveled.

“None of that. Don’t gawk, Tommy,” the Duke snapped, coming to stand beside his son. Alexander placed the trunks in the back and strapped them down, placing Lydia’s traveling case in the main carriage with her.

Hannah, her maid, descended the steps. She was a meek, lifeless girl with thin blonde hair and a perpetually worried expression. Ever since she had joined the staff, she had been terrified of the Duke and rarely spoke at all unless she was alone with Lydia.

Lydia held out a hand, and Hannah took it briefly, squeezing her fingers.

“It will be a beautiful place, you’ll see,” Lydia whispered with more courage than she felt.

Hannah attempted a brave smile. Lydia knew for a fact that her maid had never been further than five miles from home, and the journey was weighing on her heavily.

Hannah stared at the carriage as if she were about to step into the mouth of a dragon.

Lydia turned to her mother, the emotions she had held at bay since she woke that morning rising to the surface instantly.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes as she stepped up beside the Duchess and they embraced, gripping one another hard.

Her mother had gifted her with several books to read, warm woolen undergarments, and a few of her favorite dresses.

Lydia felt hollowed out to be leaving her, as if a gaping hole were slowly widening in her gut. Looking at Tommy only made her heart ache all the more.

Stepping up to her little brother, she crouched down so that she could meet his eyes.

“Be brave,” she whispered, bending down and clutching him to her. She could feel him holding back sobs.

“Don’t blubber, Tommy, for heaven’s sake,” the Duke muttered, sniffing irritably as his son tried his best to heed his commands.

“It will not be forever,” Lydia said softly, for his ears alone. “I will write to you every day, and we will see one another soon.”

Tommy nodded, unable to speak as the Duchess stepped up beside him and took his hand.

Lydia stepped back, looking up at the mansion house that she had called home for four and twenty years. It didn’t feel real to be leaving it all behind. Her eyes lingered on her bedroom, imagining she could see her younger self staring out at her, face pale and confused.

What would she think of the life I am embarking on? What would she think of the scarred “monster” who is to be my husband?

Before she could think any further on it, she turned and headed to the carriage.

Her mother gasped as Lydia walked straight past her father without a word, and Hannah hesitated, unsure whether to follow.

But the action was quite deliberate. Lydia had no interest in bidding farewell to the Duke—she would not miss him and was not sorry he would be gone from her life.

Climbing into the carriage, she waited for Hannah to join her, and then Alexander snapped the door shut behind them.

Only moments later, they pulled away, her mother’s face fading from view, as a wrenching pain sliced through her chest.

Tommy pulled his hand free, ignoring her father’s protests, and ran down the steps, sprinting after them. He kept pace with the carriage, his little legs moving as rapidly as they could as he waved and waved, Lydia hanging from the window and calling down to him that she loved him.

She waved until he was out of sight.

I had no idea Scotland was so far away!

The journey was long and tiring, even with many stops to break it up and change the horses along the route.

Each new inn was a little less grand than the one before, the food and accommodation becoming simpler as they headed north, but Lydia loved it.

She was accustomed to being with her father whenever she traveled, and the Duke always complained about everything.

The inns were never to his lofty standards, the food terrible everywhere they stayed, even when it was very fine indeed.

But as they moved north, everything became better and better.

She was treated exceptionally well by every servant she came across, and it seemed to be in no small part due to her future husband.

The man-at-arms spoke very little to Lydia herself, but she had a feeling he had been instructed to make sure she was as comfortable as possible. Even Hannah commented on it.

I am being treated like a queen. Is that what I should expect when I reach the castle? I can hardly hope for such a life.

Lydia was asleep when they approached the Highlands, and Hannah shook her awake excitedly.

“Look, M’Lady. Just look at it.”

Lydia blinked open her eyes as Hannah pulled the velvet curtain of the carriage back. Lydia’s breath hitched in her throat.

“Oh, my goodness.”

They were driving through a wide valley, the Scottish hills all around them, beautiful, majestic, and awe-inspiring.

The sun was visible along the ridge, with blooming heather in fluttering clumps of purple over the ground, the path traveling through the greenest pastures she had ever seen.

“I can hear sheep!” Hannah said, her usually dull eyes lighting up as she leaned against the window.

Lydia smiled at her; her maid was used to the blocks and cold stone of London. This truly was a beautiful place.

“I think we will like the castle,” Lydia said. “If I can wake up to this view.”

And it was not long before she saw it.

In her mind’s eye, Lydia had imagined the castle on the edge of a cliff. Roughhewn, with rocks tumbling down into the waves beneath.

But instead, it was in the midst of several large tracts of land on the edge of a huge forest that stretched from the edge of a lake all the way back into the hills behind.

The castle itself was made from pale stone, the roof light brown, with high walls around the outside. Intimidating and grand.

“He said it was big,” Lydia said to Hannah as her maid stared in awe at the enormous place.

“Nearly there, M’Lady,” came Alexander’s voice, and Lydia’s stomach turned over as she saw a man on horseback coming to greet them.

The horse was bigger than any she had ever seen, black as pitch and wild looking, its mane shimmering in the sunlight as it cantered toward them.

The man on its back could only be Laird Murray. He was wearing a loose red jacket over his léine, the cloth billowing in the breeze as he approached. He had the best seat of any man she’d seen, making man and beast look as if they had merged into one.

He drew alongside the carriage, his dark eyes staring at her for a long moment before he nodded in greeting but did not say a word. Spurring the horse forward, he went to speak with his man-at-arms.

Lydia scowled at his back.

Why did he ride all this way if he isn’t even going to greet me?

When she looked over at Hannah, her maid was in the corner of the carriage, staring at the window as if the devil himself had just appeared.

“ That is who ye are marryin’? That scarred brute?”

Lydia frowned at her. “Yes,” she said firmly, pushing away her own uncertainty at the reaction. “Would you have preferred an old man who was worse than Father?”

Hannah did not reply, smoothing her hair and dress as they reached the castle, looking more fearful than ever.

So much for finding her a new position where she is not terrified of her own shadow.

Lydia watched the high walls surround them, reminding her that she was in the middle of nowhere now and at the whims of a man she barely knew.

As she alighted, Laird Murray was dismounting from his horse, and Lydia could not help but stare at him.

The scars in the bright sunshine were stark against his tanned skin. His long hair, almost black, cascaded down his back, loose and wild, matching the horse. His chest, which had seemed so large in the gardens, seemed to have grown even wider in the time since she had last seen him.

Whatever life this man has lived, it has not been an easy one.

“Did yer maither nae teach ye it is rude to stare, M’Lady?” He growled. The way her title rolled off his tongue made a small shiver run up her spine.

He might be scarred and battered by the world, but he was still the strongest man she had ever seen.

She cleared her throat, averting her gaze. “I am sorry, I suppose I did not see you fully before.”

His easy expression hardened, and his lips pursed together as he set his jaw.

“Aye, well, there’s nothin’ to be done about it now. Ye’re here, are ye nae?”

Horror swamped her when she realized he must think she had been referring to his scars. She opened her mouth to rectify that, but he was already walking past her.

“Come with me,” he snarled, and Lydia glanced back at Hannah, who seemed very relieved to be directing the servants with her luggage rather than accompanying her.

After another glance at her new home, she made her way after the Laird, nausea rising with every step.

Everything about this place was large—the Laird, his horse, the castle itself. The ceilings were five times higher than any house she had ever entered in London. The wind was brisk and cold about her skirts as she hurried inside, even in the middle of spring.

As she went into the high entrance hall, she could see his huge back disappearing through a doorway on her right. She had to run to keep up with him, concerned that she might lose him.

Lydia could imagine spending hours wandering the castle corridors, calling for someone to come and help her, and never finding her way back again.

Eventually, he stepped through a low doorway, and she found herself in a pleasant room, large and well-furnished with an almost homely feel. It was a surprise—she had half expected a dungeon.

She wondered if it was a study, but this room was devoid of books. Her father’s study had dozens of books from floor to ceiling, none of which she had ever been permitted to read.

She liked this space; it felt welcoming in a way her father’s house never had. That is, until the Laird closed the door, his big body crowding her as he went to lean against his desk.

He did not sit, simply leaning his thighs against it and crossing his massive arms over his chest.

Lydia fidgeted, unsure of what was about to be shared between them.

The Laird ran his eyes over her, his throat working as he seemed to try to visibly relax, his shoulders slumped, his stance a little less rigid than it had been. Finally, he let out a long breath, his eyes softening as he shook his head.

“Well, then, ye are finally here,” he said a little more gently.

Lydia swallowed, forcing her eyes to remain on his face so she wasn’t caught staring again.

His forearms are the size of tree trunks.

“Yes,” she replied, meaning to continue speaking, but no more words came out.

“I am sure ye will wish to settle yerself. I have only brought ye here to lay out me rules.”

“Rules?” Lydia asked nervously.

“Aye. When I said I would take ye away from that life, ye asked me what I wanted from ye in return, remember?”

Lydia plucked nervously at her sleeve.

“Yes,” she said, her cheeks flushing furiously. “I assume you want an heir.”