Page 5 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
“Nay. I daresay I daenae.”
“He may be perfectly decent beneath it all.”
“He is.”
Ava lifted her eyes. “Still terrifying.”
Isobel looked ready to argue again, but Ava gave a smile.
“Well, if anyone truly hopes to change matters, they would need a way to show people he is safe to be around.”
Isobel went still. “Safe,” she repeated.
Ava shrugged, still not wary enough. “Or at least nae likely to bite the hand of every woman left alone in a room with him.”
A small spark lit up Isobel’s face. “Oh,” she said softly. Then, with gathering energy, her eyes grew even brighter. “Oh, I ken.”
Ava straightened in her chair.
Nay.
She knew that look. She had seen it a lot of times on her friend’s face. It came whenever a mischievous plan started to grow in her head.
She could still remember when Isobel decided at twelve that the steward’s son could be frightened off from tormenting the kitchen maids if one released geese into his path at the correct moment.
She had also seen it when Isobel convinced her that climbing the old south wall at midnight would improve their understanding of moonlight. It was the face of inspiration, and it was never safe for anyone near it.
“And from the way ye’re eyeing me,” Ava said slowly, “I certainly daenae want to ken.”
Isobel blinked, all false innocence now, which only made matters worse. “I have said nothing.”
“That has never once reassured me in all the years I have ken ye.”
Bruce emerged from beneath the desk and barked once, as if taking Ava’s side in the matter.
“Even Bruce agrees,” she pointed out.
“Bruce would agree with whichever of us offered him roasted chicken first.”
“That is nay answer.”
Isobel folded her hands atop the list, but the spark would not leave her eyes now. It sat there openly, bright and intent.
Ava felt a dread that was half real and half amusing despite itself. Whatever idea had just occurred to her friend, it was not small. It was not sensible. And worst of all, it was very plainly pleased with itself already.
She narrowed her eyes. “Isobel.”
Isobel smiled. “I have an idea.”
That was enough.
Oh, dear Lord.
CHAPTER 2
Ava stoodin the middle of the auction hall, hating herself more than anything.
She wished she could return to the past, to a week ago and shake sense into the foolish girl who had once sat safe in her father’s study and agreed that this might be amusing, or useful, or at the very least survivable.
