Page 8 of The Highland Laird’s Hellion Bride

She did not know his face or his name.

A staff struck stone once, hard, and the hall fell silent in a single breath.

“Me Ladies.” Laird Bickerson’s voice carried to every corner of the hall without rising. “Shall we begin?”

Elspeth turned away, determined to ignore that prickling feeling running down her back. It made her feel like everything was about to change.

Chapter Four

The fiddle was playing something bright when Katherine appeared at her shoulder. “Daenae look now,” she whispered, her fingers clamping tight onto Elspeth’s sleeve, “but he’s moving.”

Elspeth immediately felt that sensation again. It was him.

Despite the warning, she turned and found him walking in their direction. She had enough time to study him without seeming to stare.

He was the largest man in the room by a margin that made it notable. His shoulders were broad from raw, grinding work. He had dark, curling hair and a heavy jaw. He wore no clan colors, nothing decorative, nothing that indicated he considered the occasion worthy of effort. He moved through the gathered men without aggression, yet the others instinctively moved aside for him.

He was not handsome in the strict sense of the word. He was… significant.

That was the word that sprang to mind.

Elspeth turned back to Katherine. “That,” she said, her voice controlled, “is the Laird ye were describing?”

Katherine’s expression did something complicated and deeply unsettling. “He may be.”

“Katherine.”

“I learned his requirements first,” Katherine hissed defensively, her eyes darting away. “His livestock holdings and his trade routes.”

“Did ye learn his face?”

“I learned his holdings.”

“Katherine.”

“I thought… I assumed a man with those holdings would likely be soft-looking.” She stopped, smoothing her skirts with a sudden, nervous twitch.

“He looks like he has won a war,” Elspeth said flatly. “Several wars. On purpose.”

“That is simply his…”

“If ye say face, I will walk out of this hall and take me chances with Dunmore.”

Katherine closed her mouth.

Across the room, the enormous man had stopped at the far end of the line of women and appeared to be asking something. The woman he had addressed looked briefly uncertain, then answered. He nodded once and moved immediately to the next.

Elspeth watched, her brow furrowing. Something about the pattern was wrong. The angle of the conversation, the brevity, the way the women exchanged frantic glances after he passed. It was not the usual pattern of a marriage market. The usual pattern was compliments and mild, winding questions about household management that were really questions about temperament. What she was watching was an interrogation.

“What is he asking them?” she murmured.

“I daenae ken.”

He was two women away now. The woman currently speaking to him had gone slightly pink. Not the pleased, flushed pink of flattery, but the confused, defensive pink of someone trying to locate an answer in a subject they had not prepared for. She spread her hands in defeat. He nodded again, his expression unchanged, and moved on.

And then he was standing directly in front of Elspeth.

Up close, he was worse. Not worse in a bad sense, but worse in the way that proximity made things already significant undeniable.