Page 54 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
Isobel did not mention her brother again, a small feat Ava was immensely grateful for. Instead, she shook her head and cleared her throat. “Do ye remember when ye swore I had hidden yer ribbon and made the maids search for it?”
Ava let out a small laugh. “I was right.”
“Ye werenae. Bruce had taken it.”
“Bruce was yer accomplice.”
“He was a dog.”
“He was acriminal.”
“That is true,” Isobel relented. “But in that instance, he acted alone.”
Ava smiled widely. “Ye are shameless.”
“And ye are dramatic. Which is why ye made such a grand speech when the ribbon was found beneath the settee.”
“I was wronged.”
“Ye were seven, nae a vengeful soul.”
“What can I say?” Ava shrugged. “I had principles.”
Isobel laughed and looped her arm through Ava’s. The warmth of it helped. So did the absurdity of old arguments come back to life with their old certainty.
“And what of the time ye pushed me into the stream?” Ava asked.
“I did nay such thing.”
“Ye did. Ye said if I wished to claim the stone was steady, I ought to prove it.”
“Why did that feel so long ago?”
“I ken. We have lived different lives.”
“That we have.”
They went on like that for a while, from one memory to another, each small story leading naturally to the next. It did not erase the earlier hurt. It only gave it less room for a while. Ava felt herself loosening back into the person she had been before she closed the study door behind her.
By the time they turned back toward the castle, she could breathe without feeling the ache of the morning in her throat.
Then she saw him.
Ciaran stood near the edge of the path with Hector beside him. They were not near enough for Ava to hear their words, but near enough for her to make out the shape of the two men deep in conversation.
Almost like he sensed her presence, his head turned, and their eyes met.
The change in her was immediate and plain. Hope rose so quickly that she almost hated herself for it. One glance, and she was already thinking of crossing the distance between them. Already thinking that perhaps the morning need not end as it had begun. Perhaps she could go to him now, speak to him, and see what would come out of it. Force the day into a kinder shape through sheer will alone.
“I am going to talk to him,” she declared.
Isobel followed her gaze and gave a small nod. “Aye.”
Ava took two steps, then stopped. That annoyed her more than if she had never moved at all.
She knew exactly what it was—a last burst of foolish self-consciousness.
She turned back to Isobel, irritated with herself. “Is there something on me teeth?”
