Page 204 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Then she heard another set of footsteps in the corridor and froze. Bruce twisted in her arms, gave a small, impatient whine, and tried to launch himself toward the open doorway.
Her father stood there, and for one second, she could only look at him.
He was upright. He wasbreathing. He was clearly exhausted, and the skin along the side of his face and neck showed angry red where the fire must have touched him. His clothes looked stained from travel, and Ava noticed that one sleeve had been cut and rewrapped badly over a bandage beneath.
Despite all of that, he seemed entirely himself. The set of his mouth, the directness of his gaze, and the quiet stubbornnessin the way he held himself, even when tiredness dragged at his shoulders.
“Da.” The word broke out of her like a child’s cry.
Ava was on her feet and across the space between them before anyone could speak. She threw herself into his arms with enough force that he rocked back half a step and caught her tightly at once.
“There ye are,” he said, his voice rough with exhaustion and relief.
Ava clung to him. She did not care that Bruce was now barking around their feet or even that Ciaran still stood in the room. Her father was here. She could see and hold him. He wasalive. She could now believe it now that she had seen him with her own eyes.
“I thought…” She could not finish.
“I ken.” His hand moved over the back of her head once, then again. “I ken, lass.”
She drew back only far enough to look at him properly, and the sight of the burns hit her fully. Her breath caught. The joy stayed, but worry came in beside it.
“Ye are hurt.”
“Aye, a bit singed.” He nodded. “I saved the beastie, and I was the only fool who paid for it.”
Almost like he understood what was being said, Bruce gave a sharp, offended bark, and that did it. Ava laughed through fresh tears, not caring that the sound shook out of her helplessly.
“Ye shouldnae jest.”
“I should very much jest,” he insisted. “Otherwise, all of ye will look at me like mourners at a wake, and I have nay wish to be buried before supper.”
Yes, that was fully her father.He was wounded, tired, and still more interested in lightening the atmosphere than enlarging his own suffering.
Isobel stepped in again at that moment, her eyes bright with anticipation. Ava briefly looked at her. Her pale face was bright with feeling.
“Ye gave us all a fright,” she said, her voice shaky from what Ava could only imagine to be relief.
Laird MacKenna opened one arm to her, and she went into it for a brief, fierce embrace before stepping back to inspect the burns with the same troubled attention Ava could not hide.
“It looks worse than it is,” he assured her.
“Ye all say that when things look rather dreadful,” Isobel huffed.
He grunted. “And ye always answer as if we are idiots.”
“Well, ye often are.”
That drew another small breath of laughter from Ava.
The room felt different now. Her worst fear was gone, and for once, she did not have to imagine her father in smoke and darkness anymore. He stood in front of her, speaking with dry patience while Bruce circled his boots.
Ava touched his arm carefully. “Does it hurt ye much?”
“It hurts me enough,” he replied. “But I am certain it will hurt me much less after food and sleep, and even less still after all the fussing stops.”
“Aye, then get ready for a world of pain because I daenae plan to leave yer side for a second,” Ava warned, the defiance in her voice quite obvious.
“Aye, I can see that.”
