Page 246 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Hector crossed the room and held out the letter. He did not speak in comfort or in warning. He had long since learned there was little use in either where Ciaran was concerned.
Ciaran took it.
The parchment felt ordinary as he broke the seal with his thumb and unfolded it slowly, though he had no clear reason for thedelay except dread. He kept staring at the page while Hector watched him from the fireplace.
“What does it say?”
His voice sounded distant to his own ears when he answered. “She arrived safely.”
He paused, and Hector waited.
Ciaran looked down again, though there was nothing new to be found in the ink. His grip tightened on the paper until it gave a little under his fingers.
“And…?”
The next words stuck halfway up his throat. He forced them out anyway because leaving them unspoken would change nothing. “The marriage is annulled.”
Saying it aloud thickened the air. It was as if the tower held its breath.
For a week, Ciaran had lived inside delay, misery, and the stupid half-belief that misery itself meant something was still unfinished. Now, there was nothing else to think about for long.
Ava was no longer his wife. That was the end of their relationship.
He read the line once more, though his eyes had begun to blur with something hewouldnot name. He had spoken of an annulment often enough, and he had held it up like a remedy, a kindness, a way to return to the status quo if he ever needed to.
For some reason, he had never thought that would happen, but it did. Here he was, in the middle of his tower, reading the confirmation that his last bond with Ava had been severed.
Hector said nothing for several moments. Then, carefully, he exhaled. “I thought that’s what ye wanted.”
Ciaran lowered the letter. He opened his mouth to answer and found there was no lie left within reach.
His voice came out rough. “Nay.”
The word hung between them, and the paper crackled once more between his fingers. Then he crushed it and flung it into the fire. It caught at once, edge first, curling black as the flames took hold. The ink vanished, and the seal darkened and split.
In a few breaths, there was nothing left of it that could be read.
Ava had still arrived safely. Their marriage had still been annulled. Burning the proof changed nothing, and that fact tore through him with searing force.
His hand went to the nearest thing, a low stool beside the fireplace, and he threw it hard against the wall. It struck the stone with acrackand fell on its side.
It has been annulled.
He spun around and swept a brass candleholder off the mantelpiece. It hit the floor and rolled. A stack of sheet music followed, scattering across the stone floor in bent, useless pages. He caught the lid of the piano and slammed it down so hard that the sound ricocheted through the tower like a shot.
Still, it did nothing.
Ava was gone. Their marriage was over. The thing inside him that wanted to strike and break and tear had nowhere to land except wood, brass, paper, and stone. He drove his fist into the wall beside the fireplace, and pain shot up his arm. He welcomed it and hit the wall again.
“Enough,” Hector’s voice cut across the room cleanly.
Ciaran rounded on him, breathing hard, blood bright on his knuckles where skin had split open. Still, Hector did not back down.
“Ye have always spoken about getting an annulment. Why is that a problem now?” he asked.
The question landed harder than Ciaran had expected.
For one beat, he could only stare at his brother.
