Page 120 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Hector watched him. “Aye, that sounds more useful.”
Ciaran’s hand closed around the handle. The man who had sat in this tower speaking of distance and wisdom and all the cold lies that passed for self-control had finally run out of places to hide. What remained had one purpose.
He opened the door and went to bring his wife back.
CHAPTER 34
Bruce tugged onceon the strip of cloth in Ava’s hand and then stopped.
He sat back on his hind legs and looked up at her with his head cocked, as if he were waiting to see whether she wished to keep playing.
Usually, he would have thrown his whole little body into it, teeth set, paws braced, tail lashing hard enough to knock into chair legs. This morning, he only held the cloth gently and then let it fall from his mouth.
Ava stared at him. “Why are ye being so nice to me, Beasty?” Her voice came out thin from too many days of crying and too little food.
Bruce gave a small whuff and stepped closer, pressing his shoulder against her dress.
Laird MacKenna’s voice came right after. “Because he kens ye already have a broken heart and doesnae wish to break yer hand as well.”
Ava closed her eyes for a moment.
When she opened them, her father was watching her from his chair by the fire, one arm stretched along the carved armrest, his face gentler than he let most men see. The burns had begun healing well, though they still pulled at one side of his jaw when he smiled.
He had been trying for days to bring warmth back into the rooms around her. He had even managed to coax laughter from her now and then.
Ava bent and scratched Bruce behind the ears because it was easier than answering. The dog leaned into her hand with grave seriousness.
Her father said nothing more. He had reached the point where comfort needed less talking and more presence, and for that, Ava loved him fiercely.
The knock at the door broke the room open.
A maid stepped in and bobbed a hurried curtsy. “Me Lady, theSilent Deathis here.”
Ava went still. Before she could speak, a voice sounded from the corridor, “Just Ciaran is enough.”
That, for some reason, hit harder than the maid’s words had.
Ava rose too fast, and the room tilted, then steadied. She turned toward the open door and sawhimstanding there.
He looked thinner. That was the first thing she saw, even before the black of his coat or the scar at his throat or the broad stillness of his body filling the doorway. His face had grown leaner in the week she had been gone. His eyes looked dark and hollow in a way that made him seem half-starved. Not starved for food, but starved in the deeper, more dangerous sense.
Ava hated that she noticed at once.
“What are ye doing here?”
He took one step inside and stopped. “I came to speak to ye.”
“Nay.” The word was out before she could soften it. She had no wish to soften anything. “Ye have said enough to me for a lifetime.”
His gaze fixed on her face with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “Ava.”
“Daenae come closer.” She lifted one hand. “I mean it. I will have me father call ye out.”
Her father gave a short chuckle from the fireplace. “Lass, I wouldnae stand a chance.”
That brief warmth in the room nearly broke her.
Bruce barked once as if in agreement and trotted toward her father’s chair. Her father bent, scooped him up with a small grunt, and rose.
