Page 79 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Isobel smiled despite herself. “Ye do sound quite stronger.”
“I have always been strong,” he declared proudly. “I am merely smoky now.”
That broke the last of the tension in the room. Ava laughed, and Isobel did too, and even Bruce made a pleased little sound from where he had settled beside the chair and rested his jaw on her father’s boot.
Laird MacKenna looked between the two of them with obvious satisfaction. “There. Better. If I am to sit here roasted and inconvenient, the least ye can do is laugh at something.”
“Oh, please, the last thing ye are is inconvenient,” Ava said at once.
“I have arrived burned, homeless, and followed by a dog. I am thedefinitionof inconvenient.”
Bruce lifted his head at the word dog, looked mildly offended, and then dropped it again.
Laird MacKenna’s mouth twitched. “Speaking of household burdens, Isobel, do ye nae think it is time ye found a man of yer own as well? I believe I still have one more wedding in me.”
Both women spoke at once.
“Da!”
“Absolutely nae!”
He looked delighted by their reactions. “I only say it because I shall nae be here forever.”
“Ye shall say nay such thing,” Ava snapped.
Her father raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just something to think about, dearie.”
Ava shook her head, half laughing, half near tears again from the simple relief of hearing him speak nonsense in his usual tone.This was what home sounded like—dry humor and affection hidden under complaint.
At last, her father grabbed the arms of the chair and rose with more care than Ava would have liked.
“I am going to rest,” he announced. “If I stay here any longer, ye will begin discussing what soup or potion I should take.”
“Ye need both,” Ava said.
“Nay, lass. What I need right now is sleep.”
Isobel folded her hands across her chest in utter disagreement. “Nay, me Laird. Ye need a healer.”
The older man shook his head. “Nay. What I need is silence.”
Bruce was on his feet before he finished.
Ava stood too, her hands held out in case her father swayed, but he only steadied himself once and straightened with the stubbornness of a man who refused to look weak in front of anyone. He touched her cheek briefly as he passed.
“I am here, lass.”
Ava squeezed his hand. “I ken.”
He moved toward the door, and Isobel opened it before he reached it. Bruce trotted out after him, pausing only long enough to look back at Ava as if checking whether she meant to join the procession. Then he followed his master into the corridor.
Ava stood where she was and watched them go.
The room felt warmer now, even fuller. Her father was alive under Ciaran’s roof. Bruce was at his heels. Isobel was still beside her. The fear that had hollowed out the past days no longer ruled the space.
Yet the change reached further than relief. Her old life had crossed into her new one. There were too many people under one roof, and she didn’t know yet how to feel about the overlap.
“So…” Isobel whispered, her voice soft. “Yer father is here.”
