Page 7 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Hellion (Auctioned Highland Brides #4)

“Is there anything else you need, M’Lady?”

Lydia shook her head, smiling at Hannah, from her warm bath, as the maid finished unpacking her trunk.

Hannah had settled into the new rooms a little more now, but she still seemed on edge, startling at every sound from the corridor.

“Have you met any of the other staff yet?” Lydia asked.

“The housekeeper, Isla, is very kind, as is her husband, Duncan. Apparently, they have worked with the Laird for many years, but they only traveled to this castle very recently.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, M’Lady. It seems he was located at a different castle until a few weeks ago.”

Lydia frowned, wondering why that might be. She sighed, easing herself into the water, deciding that any other mysteries about the Laird would have to wait until another day.

I have spent quite enough time thinking about him today already.

“Why don’t you spend some time familiarizing yourself with the castle tonight? I will have no need of you for a little time.”

Hannah smiled, folding the dress that Lydia had worn to travel in, and nodded. “Thank you, M’Lady.”

Lydia closed her eyes, listening to the soft sounds of her maid tidying the final things away and quietly opening and closing the door.

After a moment’s pause, she lowered herself beneath the water, listening to the bubbles popping beside her head and the rush of water in her ears.

Resurfacing, she sighed loudly, brushing loose strands of hair from her face and leaning back against the cushion Hannah had placed behind her head.

She opened her eyes, looking up at the stone ceiling.

Her chambers here were very different from her bedroom at home—all harsh stone with a permanence about it that she liked.

The ceiling in her old bed chamber had been peppered with cracks like spiderwebs skittering across the plaster. This room was solid, like the Laird who owned it. Unmoving and unchangeable—able to weather any storm.

“And this is to be my home forevermore,” she murmured to herself, her nerves beginning to rise again as she considered her upcoming wedding.

The last few days had been such a whirlwind of activity that she had hardly considered the fact that she would soon be a bride.

A random encounter in a garden, and now she was betrothed to a giant.

In an effort to quiet her mind, she rose, getting out of the bath and dripping water over the floor as she reached for the robe that Hannah had placed behind her.

She pulled it from the chair, the silken fabric surprising her.

This is not the robe I brought from London.

She held it up in front of her. It was exquisitely embroidered with stags and thistles across the hem, and expertly trimmed. The whole garment was finer than anything she had ever owned.

Pulling it on, she walked into her adjoining room only to find another two similarly beautiful gowns laid out on the bed.

The first was dark brown, with golden embroidery down the sleeves of falling leaves. The other was crimson, a shimmering brocade, thick and very fine indeed.

She ran a hand over them both, contemplating which would be the most appropriate for dinner, when she heard a stifled giggle from the other side of the room.

Lydia stilled, listening carefully. Another, more muffled giggle. This came from behind her, too. She turned, smiling to herself as she noticed that the largest of the wardrobes in her room was ajar, and there was definite movement coming from inside it.

She heard whispered voices for a few seconds, and then silence.

“My goodness,” she said aloud. “I did not know this castle was haunted. I hear ghosts.”

The giggles intensified, and it took all her strength not to start laughing with them.

The girls must have climbed in there and waited for a very long time to play this joke on her; she had been in the bath for some time. Lydia had to admit she was impressed with their stamina.

“I have always wished to live in a haunted castle,” she continued lightly. “But then, it seems strange that ghosts would be hiding. Are they not invisible? ”

More frantic giggling met that statement, and she tied the robe more tightly about her waist, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot thoughtfully.

“Perhaps it is not ghosts at all, perhaps…” she said, walking slowly to the wardrobe door. “It is two noisy little children.”

With a dramatic leap forward, she pulled open the doors to a high shriek of excitement from the two little girls hiding inside.

Lydia could not help laughing at their antics as they both scrambled out, blinking in the light of the room, seemingly uncertain how to act now that they were standing in front of her.

They were two peas in a pod, long dark hair and bright blue eyes that contrasted with their uncle’s. They were the same height and remarkably similar in looks, but the child on the left had freckles over her nose where the other didn’t.

“Well, how do you do?” Lydia said, bending down to look at them. “I do believe I have found the ghosts in my room. And they are such pretty things, I do not know why they would choose to hide.”

The two little girls exchanged a cheeky smile and put their hands behind their backs as if it were a practiced routine.

“I did not have a chance to greet you both earlier. My name is Lady Lydia Turner. I presume you are the Laird’s nieces?”

They both nodded their little heads, the one on the left watching her sister and copying everything she did. She was the shyer of the two, then, not meeting Lydia’s eyes at all.

“I’m Eilis,” the one on the right said. “And this is my sister Amy, but she doesn’t like strangers.”

“Is that so?” Lydia asked. “How sensible of you.” Amy squinted up at her with a puzzled expression and then giggled. “I may be a stranger, but I hope we can be friends. I do not have any friends in this castle. It would be nice for the two of you to be my first ones.”

The little girls exchanged another look as though deciding whether that would be acceptable or not, but then Eilis became distracted by the gowns on the bed.

“What are they?” Eilis asked, stepping over to them. The two girls were both dressed in identical gowns of dark green.

“Well, I was trying to choose which one I like more,” Lydia said, straightening as they both trotted over to the bed.

Eilis held one of the skirts against her body and struck a pose, making Amy laugh.

“Ye should choose the red one,” Amy said, evidently having decided Lydia was worth speaking to. “It is Uncle’s favorite.”

“Did he tell you that himself?” Lydia asked.

“Nay, we just heard it. We also heard ye’re marryin’ him.”

Lydia nodded, a flash of unease passing through her at the reminder.

“Yes, you are right.”

“Ye speak funny,” Eilis said, dropping the dress now that no one was paying attention to her. “Why dae ye speak like that?”

“Well, I’m from England. That’s why it sounds funny to you.”

“Is that where ye met uncle?” Amy asked.

“Yes.”

“What’s England like?” Eilis probed.

“Well, there are many balls and dances there, but not quite so many hills as the Highlands. It is not as beautiful as this place, that is for certain.” The little girls seemed pleased by that. “Does your uncle like to dance?”

Eilis shrugged. “We dinnae ken. We hadnae seen him for a long time, only ever heard of him from our nursemaid.”

Lydia raised her eyebrows.

Where was he before he came here?

According to Hannah, Isla and Duncan had been with him for some time, but he had not lived in this castle. Had he not known his nieces until recently?

The more she learned of the Laird’s life, the more confused she became.

What happened to their parents? What happened to his face?

“I see,” she said slowly.

“Dae ye miss yer parents?” Eilis asked, studying her as her eyes moved over Lydia with interest.

The twins reminded her of Tommy; they had the same inquisitive nature that her brother possessed. She felt a pang of loneliness as she thought of his constant questions whenever they were together—she already missed him, and it had only been a few hours.

“I miss my mother,” she replied. “But not my father.” The little girls exchanged sad glances. “I assume you miss yours?” she hazarded.

“Aye,” Amy said thoughtfully. “But we also missed Mother when she was here, so it is nae so very different.”

“Dae ye have any sisters?” Eilis asked, holding out her little hand to Amy, who took it immediately. The simple gesture made Lydia’s chest ache, and she shook her head.

“No sisters, just one brother, Tommy, who is very mischievous.”

Eilis and Amy giggled behind their hands. It was one of the most endearing things Lydia had ever seen.

The girls exchanged a conspiratorial glance, and then Eilis stepped forward.

“Dae ye think Uncle is mean?” Eilis asked. “I heard some of the maids in the kitchen callin’ him a beast yesterday.”

Lydia was so startled by the question that she could only pause to think of the best way to respond. She did not have a chance, however, as a booming voice echoed through the room.

“Ye shouldnae be botherin’ our guest with questions.”

Callum watched as both the girls froze and spun round to face him.

Lydia’s face clouded with guilt, her mouth still hanging open from where she had been about to answer the question.

What would she have said if I had left it a little longer?

Callum did not like to think of what her answer might have been.

This petite, raven-haired young woman had arrived in his life without a trace of disgust at his appearance.

Shock, yes, confusion at his scars—certainly—but she had never looked at him as if she thought he were a beast.

I dinnae wish to ken if that is how she feels about me.

He had grown too used to Duncan and Isla’s company, people who did not see him as a monster, who were accustomed to his scars. It was strange to think of new servants in the house applying such names to him.

The beast of Murray Castle. I can just hear it now.

He pushed off the doorframe, ducking into the room as the girls huddled together.