It was quite fascinating, or ironic at the very least, how no one wanted to participate in this auction until she had agreed and word had gotten around.
Isobel touched her arm lightly. “Yer father was delighted by the idea.”
Ava turned to her at once. “Me father isnae here now, is he?”
The words came out sharper than she had intended, but once spoken, they rang too true to be taken back.
Isobel’s expression shifted at once, warmth sobering into concern, and Ava wished for a moment she had held her tongue. Then she wished it less.
Because it was true.
Her father was not here. His castle was not here. Bruce was not here, with his absurd barks and reckless little legs. The safety of being Laird MacKenna’s cherished daughter in a household that knew her moods and welcomed her laughter had been left behind, and in its place stood this room where every corner seemed to make her skin crawl.
Isobel squeezed her sleeve. “Ava.”
“Nay,” Ava said more quietly, though the force remained. “Daenae soothe me withMe father liked the notion.It is a poor comfort when he isnae the one standing here.”
“I didnae mean it so.”
“I ken.”
And she did. That was the difficulty of loving someone. Even one’s heart could not fully harden against them.
Isobel lowered her hand. “Ye arenae meant to be a true candidate.”
Ava let out a breath through her nose. This had all been Isobel’s idea. A way for her to stand as a placeholder, so the people who were actually interested in the Laird could get to him.
“Ye are only here for the auction until he finds someone, that is all,” Isobel repeated, almost in a way to appease her.
Ava nodded. “That is easy enough to say now that I am standing amongst them like one more hen set out for market.”
“Ye are here to lend weight to the gathering,” Isobel said patiently. “To make it seem worthy of attention. It has worked. More women came because word spread that Laird MacKenna’s daughter would attend.”
That struck deeper than Ava liked.
Her presence had done work here. Her name, her father’s name, her place in the world had helped make this absurd thing seem respectable enough that others had stepped forward too.
She hated that she could not even deny it.
“So I have served beautifully as bait,” she muttered.
Isobel sighed. “That isnae what I said.”
“It is enough.”
“Ava, listen to me. This is a good thing. The room is fuller. The choice is broader. That was the point.”
Ava gave a small, humorless smile. “How lovely. I am glad me humiliation has proved useful.”
“Ye arenae humiliated.”
“I am standing in a bride auction.”
“That doesnae mean ye will be chosen.”
At that, Ava turned fully toward her. The low talk in the hall seemed to recede, and all at once, there was only the one question that had been ringing over and over in her head.
“And ye promise yer brother willnae choose me?”
