Page 1 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
CHAPTER 1
Ava Fraser flew downthe passageway with Bruce at her heels and shrill laughter in her throat.
The tiny dog’s legs were absurdly short for the ferocity of his pursuit, but Bruce did not know that, and Ava had long since learned it was useless to explain things like this to a creature with ears too large for his head and the soul of a charging warhorse.
He barked as he ran, sharp and outraged, as if she had committed some grave offense by snatching his ribbon and fleeing with it.
“Ye shallnae catch me,” Ava called over her shoulder.
Bruce barked harder as if he understood.
She rounded the corner by the stairwell and nearly collided with a maid carrying folded linens. She skipped aside at the lastinstant, one hand catching the wall, her skirts swaying round her ankles.
“Forgive me, Mairi.”
The maid huffed a laugh. “Me Lady, one day, that beast shall bring ye both to ruin.”
“Bruce would never ruin me. Headoresme.”
Bruce launched himself at her hem as if to dispute the claim.
Ava laughed again and darted up two steps before pausing just long enough to let him think he had gained ground. He scrambled after her, his nails scratching stone, his eyes determined like those of a hunting hound despite the fact that he was no bigger than a well-fed loaf.
“Almost,” she told him. “A heroic effort.”
A footman flattened himself against the wall and shook his head as she passed. Ava tossed him a cheerful smile and kept on.
She knew every corner of the castle well enough to move through it without thought. She knew where the light from the narrow windows struck the floors in the late afternoons and which nooks could hide anyone, no matter their size.
Bruce reached her at last at the landing outside her father’s study and sank his tiny teeth into the hem of her skirt.
“There ye are,” Ava said, scooping him up before he could claim proper victory. “A savage beast. A terror of the Highlands. Shall I warn me father?”
Bruce wriggled in her arms, offended by the capture but pleased enough by the attention that he did not resist overmuch.
Ava pressed a kiss to the top of his head and pushed open the study door with her hip, still smiling.
Her smile faltered at once.
Her best friend, Isobel, sat at her father’s desk with papers spread before her in neat, troubling order. There were letters stacked to one side, a list unfolded in front of her, and a small pot of ink near her hand. She was bent over the page with such rapt focus that for a moment, she did not even look up.
Ava stayed by the door. The room felt different from the passageway behind her.It feltstill.
“Well,” she said lightly, “ye look less like a guest and more like a steward preparing for war.”
That made Isobel raise her head, but the smile that came was late and thin. “Do I?”
“Aye.” Ava crossed the room slowly, with Bruce tucked against her. “And since ye are in me father’s study, looking whiter than usual, I must assume something is amiss.”
Isobel set down the quill. “I am making a list.”
“I can see that.” Ava came to the desk and looked down at the crossed-off lines.
Trunks.
Clothing.
Letters to send.
