Page 2 of The Highland Laird’s Hellion Bride

He offered Katherine a stiff nod that was more warning than courtesy. “Though there is nothing shameful in a daughter’s duty. Marriage is a transaction. She is fortunate to be useful.”

Useful.

The word stuck in Elspeth’s throat like pine needles.

She had been useful since she was fourteen, when he dismissed the steward because her hands were free to take up the inkwell. She had balanced his ledgers, argued down the dishonest wool merchants, and kept his tenants from starving during the frost.

She had done it in absolute silence, because in her father’s house, tears had never once altered the price of grain. And now her life was to be traded for a Council seat.

Katherine set her mending down on the table. The movement was slow, deliberate, but Elspeth noticed the dangerous shift. The subtle squaring of her shoulders, the smooth, unreadable mask of perfect politeness that meant she was about to strike.

“Laird MacRae.” Katherine’s voice poured out like warm honey. “Forgive me for intruding.” She looked him dead in the eye, her posture radiating absolute defiance. “But if coin and alliances are truly what ye seek, I wonder if ye’ve considered what Elspeth is actually worth on the open market.”

She tilted her chin, a tiny, mocking smile touching her lips. “A woman of her blood, her education, her years managing an entire estate, that isnae a handful of aging acres. That is a prize.”

Alistair stiffened, the muscles along his jaw tightening into iron knots. He did not speak, but his eyes narrowed as he reconsidered.

“Laird Bickerson holds his gathering at the week’s end,” Katherine continued, her tone light, conversational, and lethal. “Every year, wealthy lairds, powerful men all of them, seek capable wives and sound alliances. They are the kind of men who bid, Laird MacRae. Who compete with full purses.”

She let the words hang in the damp air. “I am quite certain that if Elspeth were presented there, ye would find the offers considerably more advantageous than what an old man with a failing leg has proposed. She is young. She is accomplished. She is extraordinarily well-suited to running a great house.” She smiled sweetly, her eyes flashing. “Surely a man of yer shrewdness can see the difference between accepting the first low offer and commanding a premium.”

Silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Elspeth fixed her gaze on the dying fire, her heart thudding against her ribs so violently that she feared they could hear it. A cold, dizzying sickness washed over her.

An auction.

She would stand before a hall of strange men, weighed and measured like a breeding mare. But the realization hit her: she was already an animal in a stall. Her father had already measured her and priced her before he entered the room. The only thing Katherine had changed was the size of the market.

Elspeth looked up at her friend, who was staring at her father unblinking, her expression bright and absolutely terrifying.

She thinks this is a rescue, she realized with a sudden, sharp pang. She genuinely believes this gives me a choice.

And perhaps it did. Men who were not fifty-four and bitter. Men who might look at a wife as a living soul rather than an accounting trick.

Involuntarily, her mind flashed to the hero in her book. Depthless eyes, a quiet strength, a man who chose a woman because he wanted her, not her father’s borders.

Her father stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the papers as the greed took root. The small, mechanical movements of his mind showed in the hard line of his mouth. He liked the arithmetic.

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice dropping to the smooth, flat tone of a merchant closing a trade, “attending isnae such a terrible idea. But if the offers arenae better…” He grabbed the papers from the table and tucked them back into his damp coat. “… the arrangement with Dunmore will remain.” He looked at Elspeth. “Be ready by Thursday.”

He turned on his heel and strode out, the heavy oak door slamming shut behind him. The echo vibrated through the stone walls.

Elspeth sat frozen, her breath catching in her throat. Then she turned to Katherine. Her friend was already looking back at her, her eyes wide with a mix of frantic triumph and sudden dread.

“Trust me,” Katherine mouthed across the quiet room.

Elspeth looked down at her lap. The book lay open, the words blurring before her eyes. Her fingers trembled against the page.

“I think,” she whispered into the cold draft, “ye’ve just sold me.”

Katherine winced, her fingers tightening around her mending. “Only temporarily,” she murmured, her voice losing its confidence. “I hope.”

Chapter Two

The fence had been leaning since Tuesday.

Magnus had noted it on his morning walk, noted it again at midday, and by Wednesday, he had decided the post needed replacing rather than resetting.