"Begin!" Her father barked, flicking his wrist and the lady stepped forward.
"Present yerselves," she commanded, with one sharp clap of her hands.
As one, the line of women lifted their chins and straightened their spines, transformed instantly from terrified girls into displays of Highland beauty and breeding as they took one step forward. Liliane felt sick as appreciative murmurs rose from the crowd.
"Lairds and honored guests!" The auctioneer's voice boomed across the hall, finally breaking the spell that held her captive. "Let the evening's proceedings begin!"
A collective hush fell over the crowd as the first young woman was brought forward. Liliane's stomach plummeted as reality crashed back over her like a wave.
This is truly happening. Women are about tae be sold like prized mares, our futures decided by the weight of silver in strangers' purses.
And me own faither will sell me off fer clan alliance.
Guards lined the walls like sentinels, their hands resting on sword hilts, eyes scanning the crowd with predatory alertness. The message was clear, no one would be permitted to leave until business was concluded to their hosts' satisfaction.
"Gentlemen," a laird's voice boomed across the hall, "welcome tae this evening's proceedin's. Each alliance forged taenight strengthens our collective position, our shared vision fer the Highlands' future. Now, let the coins flow." He took his seat.
Liliane's hands clenched in her lap.
"Ladies."
The auctioneer’s gaze lingered on each girl in turn. When those pale eyes reached Liliane, they seemed to linger a moment longer than necessary.
"The first bride," the auctioneer announced, his voice carrying clearly across the hall. "Fifty pounds fer the lass with the auburn hair!"
Liliane Munro's stomach clenched as she watched the girl beside her being dragged toward the platform. The poor creature seemed extremely young, her face pale as parchment. She shook so violently the guards half carried her forward to the podium.
"Sixty!" the first voice barked from the crowd of masked lairds.
"Seventy-five!"
Liliane pressed her lips together, her own hands trembling and resting in her lap as she stood rigid in the procession.
After a few instants of silence, the auctioneer called out: "Sold to the laird in the third row fer seventy-five pounds!"
Applause rippled through the crowd as the girl was led away. Liliane watched her go, memorizing the defeat in her posture.
"The second bride!"
Another lady was dragged forward, sold within minutes to a masked figure in the front row, her sobs echoing off the stone walls as she was led away.
Liliane felt the lady beside her trembling and reached out instinctively, squeezing her hand beneath the cover of her skirts.
"Dae ye think," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the murmur of the crowd, "that any of these matches were arranged beforehand?"
The girl with dark hair and wide, frightened eyes, shook her head shakily. "Daes it matter?" she whispered back. "Nay good man would be here, biddin’ on lives as if we were prize horses."
Liliane's jaw tightened. "Ye're right."
But even as she agreed, her mind was racing ahead to her own strategy. After her father had secured his position within Campbell's precious Pact, they would return to their keep and collect her belongings before pursuing their journey to the laird’s keep. That would give her one last chance to reach Nessa.
Nessa. Her fourteen-year-old sister, sweet and trusting, currently locked away in her chamber at home. Her father's threat still echoed in her mind,
Defy me again, and it will be Nessa on that platform instead of ye.
CHAPTER TWO
“The third bride,” the lady shouted, “goin’ fer seventy pounds!”
