Alexander felt his blood rush to his face as he fisted his hands. It would be satisfying to introduce the sod to his blows.
“Easy, remember the goal,” Gunn said, his voice calm and even.
Taking a deep breath, “’Tis easy to say when ’tis no’ your wallet.” He looked towards Archibald. “Two thousand pounds.”
The crowd’s attention focused on him and then shifted to the moustached man in the back.
Archibald looked to the stranger, his brows raised in question. “Going once, twice—”
The man smirked, looked Alexander right in the eyes and called out, “Three thousand pounds.”
Gasps went out from the crowd as their eyes volleyed between the two men.
The urge to jump the crowd and throttle the man continuously outbidding him was almost overwhelmingly strong. But no matter how much he wanted to do that, he couldn’t.
He drew in a deep breath, his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth in anger.
“Four thousand pounds,” he challenged.
“Going once,” Archibald announced.
Alexander glared at the man, who finally put his hands up and shook his head, giving a sarcastic bow to Alexander before turning on his heel and leaving the auction.
“Sold to the Duke of Argyll for four thousand pounds.”
Alexander paled. His sheep. They were once again his. But he didn’t have four thousand pounds to give. He approached Archibald to pick up his pay ticket.
The auctioneer handed him a piece of paper instead. “The lister wanted to work with the winner personally. His address is inside.”
Alexander flipped open the note and as expected, saw Kitt’s name signed at the bottom. But he did not expect the note contained within.
We have much to discuss, Argyll. We shall speak soon.
He crushed the paper in his hands. “Bloody bastard,” he spat.
“What is it?” Malcolm asked.
“He knew. He was playing a game the whole time.”
“Who? What?”
“That bloody bastard set me up. He knew all along I was going to go to whatever lengths I could to win the bid. I am certain that man was a pawn in Kitt’s game.”
“How can ye be so certain?” Finlay asked.
He shoved the note to Finlay. “Because Archibald handed me this instead of the pay note.
*
The walls ofMillwool castle seemed to close in around Clarissa. The men had been gone most of the day. She had wanted to go to the auction, but both Nicholas and Alexander insisted she stay here with Gwen.
So, instead of seeing what was happening, she only saw scenario after scenario running through her head about whatcouldbe happening.
She and Gwen sat in the parlor and waited for their return. She had tried to occupy her mind with a book, but it just sat closed on her lap. She couldn’t concentrate on the pages every time she started to read, so she finally gave up and had taken to wringing her hands instead.
“Clarissa, ye must relax.” Gwen said over the rim of her teacup.
She shoved the book aside and stood, moving to the window to see if the men were on their way back. “I canna, Gwen. My nerves are all on edge. What if Alexander doesna get this sheep back? What will happen to him? To Millwool? To his people? To his sheep?”
