“Aye,” Katherine said, feeling a bit steadier answering this. “I’m quite skilled at identifyin’ what needs to be done and delegatin’to the proper staff. And I’m nae opposed to takin’ care of somethin’ meself if it’s small.”
That answer seemed to please them, and they finally moved on. Even though she wasn’t able to relax, she let out a short breath. She knew that her father was watching her, likely furious at her first answer.
I want to get away from him, but he cannae expect me to be someone I am nae.
“If ye’d speak about stories durin’ dinner,” another laird said, so close to Katherine that she couldn’t help but wonder when he got there, “wWhat subjects would ye discuss havin’ after dinner beverages?”
“Philosophy,” Katherine said, immediately realizing the mistake she’d made.
As soon as the word landed, heads swiveled to look at her. The man in front of her sneered, and it dawned on her that he had given her a chance to correct her earlier answer. He probably thought she was being difficult on purpose. It wasn’t an unfamiliar problem; she often misjudged her words with her father, so she was used to being chastised, yelled at, and even slapped by him for her insolence.
Another burst of laughter rippled through the gathered men. Everyone’s eyes returned to her, but their gazes were no longer filled with curiosity. Some looked down on her, others showeddisgust, and some appeared to be plotting how to knock her off her pedestal in private.
And, worst of all, that intimidatingly large and handsome man stood at the back of the group, watching her with something that wasn’t quite interest.
“I believe we’ve heard enough,” an older, pink-cheeked man said. His tone was unkind, his impatience fueled by early-morning drinking. “I’m ready to begin biddin’.”
The air was pulled from Katherine’s lungs. When she glanced at her father, she saw his anger at her performance. She didn’t think she had earned any favor during the questioning, and clearly neither did he. Dreading what might happen if she didn’t get any bids, she cleared her throat.
“Just one moment,” she said, projecting her voice loud enough that everyone else quieted. “I havenae yet finished sharin’ all me skills.”
“By all means, daenae keep us waitin’,” the man spat.
Not letting his anger shake her, Katherine stepped forward and rolled her shoulders back. Then, after taking a deep breath, she began to sing. As the Gaelic words left her lips and the sound of her singing silenced the courtyard, she allowed herself to get lost in the traditional tune.
Singing always made her feel steadier. Even now, it was no different. It didn’t matter how many eyes were on her or just how uncertain her future was. She could always rely on these lyrics, on this melody.
Chapter Three
“She has a stunnin’ voice,” Lady Agnes observed, an amused smile on her face. She sounded as though she may start singing along, so pleased with the woman’s social faux-paux.
Liam looked down at her, not missing the slight pinch of her brow that gave away the pain she was feeling. Reluctantly, she’d settled into the chair he’d demanded a servant bring as it was the least they could do. Her hand rested against her chest, and she was completely enraptured by the woman’s song.
“Ye must bid on her!” she said after a few beats. She turned, the effort of the motion making her breath catch. “Make me happy before I leave this world, Liam.”
The sense of obligation and duty he felt toward the woman who raised him was strongly convincing, but as he turned his gaze back to the singing woman, he knew that this wouldn’t be assimple as bidding on her and bringing her home. She was too loud, too sharp, too bright.
Too much.
She spoke of philosophy, and when men began to disapprove of her, she started singin’.
Liam frowned at her, incredulous that this was the woman his grandmother thought would fit. She was clumsy and openly trying much too hard. Yet, something about her was undeniably charming. “I daenae need someone so… theatrical to teach Agnes.”
As his grandmother was considering her answer, the singing suddenly stopped. In the few seconds he allowed himself to think, the old, drunken man demanding they start his bidding became enraged at the girl’s song. Apparently, his belligerent mind couldn’t understand this woman, and he responded to the confusion with anger. It was an ugly quality, but one that he wasn’t unfamiliar with.
When he saw the man’s body coiling as if he were about to strike her, Liam didn’t hesitate. Crossing the courtyard in a few confident, deliberate steps, he positioned himself firmly between the man and the woman. His size alone, the several inches he had on everyone else in attendance, was enough to ease the tension.
“Surely there are better ways to treat a lady,” Liam said to the man, shifting toward him and driving him back from thewoman. His hand twitched at his side, a silent warning that Liam watched his eyes track. “Are we nae here to learn more about them before we bid? Ye are the only one in a rush.”
Finally, he looked back at the woman. He didn’t even know her name, yet this was the second time they’d interacted. She looked grateful, yes, but her expression was tempered with defiance. It only further confirmed to him that she was nothing but trouble.
“Any of these skills we’re askin’ about can be taught,” the man replied. “Nay need to be a gentleman; all we need to do is see them to ken which one we want to make our wife.”
“That’s enough,” Laird Bickerson said, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. The gesture looked casual, but Liam saw the way his fingertips dug into flesh. It was an even stronger warning than the one Liam had issued. “While I escort ye to yer horse, I do believe that Laird MacDougal has earned askin’ Miss Katherine three questions.”
Liam started to shake his head, but from the corner of his eye, he saw his grandmother stand up. He couldn’t disrespect her by denying this. Clearly, she expected him to accept this “reward.”
Laird Bickerson didn’t wait for him to say anything else, guiding the man away before he could cause a bigger scene. Even as they retreated, the man began grumbling. Liam’s grandmother approached him in a hurry, a limp in her step they tried to hide.
