Page 203 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
“That is the worst of it,” she went on, quieter now. “I daenae ken how to put ye together. One hour, ye care what I eat, whether I sleep, whether I am frightened; the next, ye speak to me as if I am one of yer men. I daenae ken which one is true.”
His jaw shifted. “Both,” he said.
The answer should have infuriated her. Instead, it only made her tired.
“That is nay answer at all.”
“It is the only honest one I have.”
Ava looked at him and saw the strain in his face then, held tight, familiar now, though no less painful for being familiar. She had begun to trust him in places she had never meant to.
That was the truth she could no longer step around. The trust had been there. So had the hurt when he turned hard on her.
“If ye cared,” she scoffed, “ye had a strange way of showing it.”
His mouth opened, but before he could finish, a sharp bark came from the corridor, and Ava froze.
Nay. Is that?—
Another bark followed, high and frantic and wildly familiar. Then came the scratch of small claws against wood and a whine she would have recognized from the grave.
Ciaran turned to the door and then back to her. He noticed how wide her eyes had grown.
“Bruce.” The name tore out of her.
She was across the room before Ciaran could move. Her hands fumbled with the handle for one desperate second before she got it and flung the door open. Bruce hurled himself through the gap in a burst of fur, crooked legs, and joy.
Ava dropped to her knees just in time to catch him before he slammed into her chest. He licked her chin, her mouth, her nose, his whole small body wriggling with such force that she nearly laughed and cried at once.
“Bruce! Bruce, oh me darling boy.”
She buried her face in his neck and held him tightly. He smelled of road dust and smoke and home. Her father’s home. The home that was gone. The home that had sent this little dog racing back to her alive.
Relief hit her so hard it hurt.
Ava laughed against his fur and felt tears come with the sound. Her hands shook over his back as he wiggled and whined and pushed his small, blunt head under her chin as if he meant to climb into her skin. She lifted her wet face from his fur and looked up, still kneeling on the floor with him clutched against her.
Behind her, Ciaran had gone very still.
CHAPTER 22
“Bruce… Oh, Bruce.”The words spilled out of Ava without order. “Ye awful little beastie, where have ye come from? Look at ye. Look at ye!”
She kissed the top of his head, then his nose, then gathered him closer as if she might press him back into her life by force.
The feel of him in her arms broke something open in her chest. He was real. Warm.Alive.She couldn’t imagine what she would have done if the news reached her that Bruce had also died in the fire.
Bruce let out another sharp bark right in her face, and a laugh burst out of her.
Behind her, Ciaran cleared his throat, reminding her of his presence. “I didnae ken yer father had a dog.”
Ava looked up at him over Bruce’s twitching ears. Her face was damp, her mouth trembling with so many emotions. “He isnae just a dog. He is our little bairn.”
Bruce barked again as if in fierce agreement.
Ciaran’s expression shifted briefly. It was not a smile exactly, but his lips twitched just enough to show how amused he was for a second. Ava felt that too. It mattered. Though at that moment, she had no space in herself to sort out why.
She buried her face in Bruce’s neck once more and felt him wriggle all over with joy. Her hands ran over his back, checking him without meaning to, making sure he was whole.
