Page 71 of Auctioned to the Cruel Highlander
That one almost undid her because it sounded so much like him—care shown in the shape of an order.
She pressed both hands over her face and stayed silent.
On the fourth morning, she heard his knock again and did not move from the chair by the bed.
“Ava.”
Nothing in her softened.
The handle turned down and then up. He was trying the door only to prove to himself that it remained locked. She could picture his face too easily, the set jaw, the controlled impatience, the strain he would never willingly bring into words.
Then another voice came, sharper and feminine. “Leave off.”
Ava lowered her hands.
There was a pause outside. Then Ciaran spoke, his voice flat enough that she knew exactly how annoyed he was. “Isobel.”
“Aye, me. And ye may stop standing outside her door like a jailer.”
“I am making certain she has food.”
“And doing a poor job of being welcome company while ye do it.”
Silence followed that.
Ava rose and came nearer, not enough to cast a shadow beneath the door, only enough to listen.
“Ye cannae hurt her again,” Isobel chided, her voice clear despite the piece of wood between them. “She is too nice for that.”
A small sound came from Ciaran, not quite a laugh, but near enough that Ava almost saw him in front of her. “Too nice?”
“Aye.”
“She has been a full hellion with me since the day I met her.”
“Are ye proving me point for me, Brother?”
The answer came too quickly for Ava to stop the small breath that escaped her. It was the first amused sound that had escaped her in days.
Outside, Isobel knocked once. “Ava?”
Ava paused.
“He is gone already. ’Tis just me at the door. Open it, please.”
Ava hesitated only a second before lifting the bar.
Isobel slipped inside at once and shut the door behind her. She took one look at Ava as Ava moved to the bedpost and her expression changed. The sharpness she had used on Ciaran vanished as she crossed the room without ceremony and caught Ava’s hands in hers.
“Oh, ye look dreadful.”
“I feel worse.”
“I can believe it.”
That directness helped. So did Isobel’s hands, warm and real and steady after days of being alone with fear.
“What is the news?” Ava asked. The question tore out of her before anything else could. “Tell me at once.”
