Chapter Twelve
Alexander knocked onthe drawing room door and Nicholas turned from the window, lines creasing his forehead.
He pointed towards the hallway. “Gwen told me ye wanted to speak to me?”
Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Did she now?”
Alexander shrugged. “Do ye want a drink?” He asked, trying to brush off the conversation he had just listened to.
They left the drawing room and made their way to the study. He headed straight for the side bar and poured them each a generous serving of whisky.
“Is it about the auction?” He asked innocently, handing Nicholas one of the glasses.
“What is your plan for my sister?”
Alexander choked on the sip he was in the middle of taking. Wracking coughs paining his chest and making his eyes water.
Once he finally was able to catch his breath, he eeked out, “Pardon?”
Nicholas sighed and slumped in one of the chairs near the hearth, sipping at his whisky. “Gwen has seen how ye two act when ye are together,” he took another pull from his glass. “I have, as well,” he confessed. “I dinna want to see her hurt, Alexander.”
The pleading in his best friend’s voice killed him.
“I ne’er would, Nicholas.”
Nicholas nodded, as if finally believing him. “I ken. E’en if ’tis hard for me to admit. But I will state it now, if you e’er do, I will kill ye with my bare hands,” he vowed, but a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“I would expect naught else, brother.” They lifted their glasses in salute and downed the remaining liquid. “Now, about the auction. I havena heard from Finlay yet regarding the auctioneer. I hope to hear soon.”
“We will get that bastard Kitt. He is going to find out the hard way he messed with the wrong family.”
Alexander smiled at Nicholas’s reference to family. They were after all.
They had been before the war, during the war, and after still. That was something that wouldn’t change. Even if it was a bit rocky for a time.
*
As far aslivestock auctions went, the turnout for the Campbell planned auction was fairly average.
Archibald Allen had agreed to host the auction and call the bids. More than certainly due to a nice purse promised by Finlay.
Finlay had not told him of such a cost, but Alexander kenned there was one involved. The man would not agree to such an endeavor for no compensation. And of course, his friend would not tell him about the cost due to his current circumstances. He appreciated that, but also felt like a leech for being in the situation in the first place. However, once he had his flock back and was making money again, he would pay back his friend ten-fold.
Nicholas, Malcolm, Gunn, and Finlay were all in attendance. Alexander scanned the room but did not see Kitt. Surely, he would put the sheep up for auction. The man didn’t have a clueon how to care for them, so the sooner he got them off his lands, the better. Or at least that was what Alexander was thinking, but now that he didn’t see him here, he was wondering if his thoughts were misdirected.
“What are ye thinking?” Malcolm asked as he leaned against the wall watching people settle into chairs and linger about. The auction was being held in one of the castle’s outbuildings.
“I dinna see Kitt.”
“I havena seen the livestock up for auction, but I canna imagine him no’ putting them up.”
Alexander sighed, pushing his hand through his hair. “I would like to think the same thing, but I am beginning to have my doubts. What if he doesna? Then what am I going to do?”
Malcolm clasped him on the shoulder. “He will. The plan is solid. Mayhap he sent a delegate. ’Twould make sense. If I were him, I wouldna want to show my face around here either,” Malcolm said with a chuckle.
“Ye speak the truth on that,” Finlay added from behind them.
Archibald banged his hammer on the podium that had been set up in the front of the room and a raised block.
