Page 140 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Ava couldn’t respond before he led her out of the hall. When they stepped into the passageway, he put one hand on her elbow and gently nudged her forward in the way he always commanded men and women.
“This way.”
He watched the indecision in her eyes before she chose to obey. It was clear she didn’t want to cause a scene. He could, however, feel her reticence, especially in the way she walked and moved her arms.
Behind them, the hall remained full of half-buried attention. No one called after them. No one was foolish enough to interfere.
Good.
A public disruption could still be contained, and that was what he intended to do with this lass.
He led her into a small study off the main hall, shut the door, and let the silence close around them.
It was a plain enough room, useful rather than grand. There was nothing in it but a narrow desk, a chair, and a chest by the wall. The noise outside faded at once to a distant murmur, as if the whole absurd event had been pushed behind thick cloth.
Ava stood at the door, breathing too quickly, her hands curling and uncurling in the folds of her gown.
Ciaran turned to face her.
For a moment, he simply stared at her.
She was obviously distressed, but there was more to it than just alarm. There was a hint of intelligence and hurt pride as well. It was like she was already planning an escape.
He had seen frightened women before. This was not the same creature as the near-fainting lass in the hall.
Ava Fraser was not collapsing.She was scrambling for a way out.
That was different.
“All right. Do ye mind telling me what in God’s name just happened out there?” he asked, straining his voice just a little. Something he’d never had to do in years.
The word landed between them like a dropped stone.
She gulped. “I shouldnae have been chosen.”
He said nothing.
She rushed on at once, as though the silence itself pressed her harder than an interruption might have. “I am nae suitable. I am nae what ye want. I should think there are a dozen women outside who would suit ye far better.”
“Is that what ye think?”
“’Tis what I ken.”
“What ye ken?” he repeated, folding his arms.
“Aye. Believe me, Laird Nairn, I am nae the woman ye are looking for.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And how do ye ken the woman I am looking for?”
Ava swallowed. “Trust me, I am nae.”
“And why, pray tell, do ye think so?”
“Well, for one, I am too blunt, and I daenae always hold me tongue when I ought to.”
“And what makes ye think I am?—”
“And!” she interrupted, raising her hand as if to get all her chances in before he could speak. “And I am nae particularlymeek, and I daresay there are many domestic virtues in which I fail entirely.”
