Page 6 of A Bride for the Kilted Beast

“Hush, child. Dinnae let them hear us,” the blonde woman urged her, speaking in whispers as she said, “This auction is like none ye’ve ever heard of, fer ’tis nae fer cows or sheep, but the daughters of lairds desperate fer money, who are nae ashamed tae sell their lassies tae the highest bidder as wives fer noblemen.”

Lillie could not stifle the gasp of shock that sprang from her lips.

“Shhh!” the dark-haired woman warned, her eyes flicking toward the door, behind which the men’s voices were growing louder.

“I’m a laird’s daughter, but me faither’s dead, and he’d never dae something so terrible as sell his own daughter. There’s been a terrible mistake. I must get away from here and get back tae me home. Ye must help me escape,” Lillie insisted, keeping her voice low.

But both women shook their heads, guiding her to the middle of the room and beginning to dress her in strange clothes.

“I’m sorry, lassie, we’d like tae help ye, but ’tis more than our lives are worth tae disobey our orders,” the blonde one told her as they put a clean shift over her head. The dark-haired one laced it tightly, making Lillie catch her breath until she loosened the laces slightly.

“There’s nae way out,” she told Lillie. “Ye have tae dae as he says.”

“Who says?” Lillie asked while they slipped a pretty blue jacquard patterned gown over her head and smoothed it over her hips.

“The laird,” the woman told her, fastening the dress with nimble fingers.

“Which laird?”

“Ach, ye’ll find out soon enough,” the dark-haired one told her.

Lillie frowned as they made her sit on the bed. Despite their assurance that there was no escape, she cast about the room, while the blonde one put clean stockings on her and a pair of blue kid slippers on her feet. But she could see no way out and submitted silently when the dark haired one fetched a hairbrush and sat behind her on the bed, brushing out her hair in long, gentle strokes.

“Ye’re ready,” she said at last, moving away. “Good luck tae ye, lassie,” she added, crossing to the door with a last sad look at Lillie.

“Aye, good luck. Ye look very pretty at any rate,” said the other one. With that, they quietly went out, leaving a trembling Lillie awaiting a fate that sounded worse than death.

After a few minutes, the door opened and a man entered, closing it behind him. He stared at Lillie, his large blue eyes burning with a mixture of pleasure and determination. Fearful of what he might do, she reared away from him, into a corner, but he held up a placating hand.

“Wheesht! I’m nae gonna hurt ye,” he boomed at her in a deep voice, rubbing his palms together as he looked her up and down like a prize heifer. “Why, ye’ll dae nicely now they’ve given ye a scrub. I bet ye’ve never worn a gown that fine before, have ye?”

For some reason, his comment made Lillie furious, and she briefly forgot her fear.

“Of course, I have! I’m the daughter of a laird. I have many fine gowns! I dinnae ken who ye are, or what ye mean by kidnapping me like this. But I warn ye, when me braithers find out ye’ve stolen me, they’ll hunt ye down and kill ye like the dog ye are!” She paused to catch her breath before going on.

“Is that so?” he said, smiling and rubbing his bristly chin. That angered Lillie even more.

“Aye, ye see, this is the second time I’ve been kidnapped!” she spat at him. “I’m Lillie MacDonald, daughter of the Laird o’ MacDonald. Laird Keir MacNeil—an evil brute ye’ve nae doubt heard of—kidnapped me last year and kept me captive fer six months, but he’s rotting in the ground now, as you will be soon.”

To her consternation, the man burst into guffaws of laughter, slapping his knees in mirth.

“A spitfire, eh? And ye have a wild imagination and a nice turn o’ phrase, lass, considering ye’re talking tae Caelin McIrving, Laird o’ McIrving. So ye heard talk of the kidnapping of the MacDonald girl in the taverns and ye have also mastered quite the noble accent. But I suppose, being a whore, ye’re used tae this kind o’ subterfuge. Never mind, fer ye’re here tae wed a laird, so it’ll come in handy. Ye’ll be livin’ the highlife all right as the wife of a laird, so long as whoever buys ye thinks ye’re me daughter. I cannae spare her, ye see, so someone has tae take her place. And that’s ye. Och, yer name’s Mirin, by the way. Remember that.”

“I tell ye, I’m Lillie MacDonald, daughter of the Laird o’ MacDonald,” Lillie shouted, infuriated.

“Aye, and I’m the English Queen’s uncle,” he said with a dismissive laugh. Then, his face turning serious, he outlined her duties for the auction. “I’m gonnae take ye down there now, and ye’ll stand with the rest while the men bid fer ye. Keep yer mouth shut and dae as I say. And if ye dinnae, ye’ll regret it.”

To back up his threat, he pulled his coat aside and unsheathed his dirk. Eyeing it in terror, she swallowed hard, realizing she would have to go along with his lunatic orders for the time being, at least until she could find some way of escaping.

“Right, this way, lass,” he told her, pointing the blade at her to indicate she should go out of the door before him. She obeyed, running the gauntlet of many staring male eyes as she was forced to make her way down a short passage and out of a door.

She blinked as the sunlight assaulted her eyes. After a few moments, she realized they were standing in the yard of what she thought must be an inn, judging from the smell of stale ale hanging in the surrounding air. She made out a small field ahead of them, beyond a split-rail fence, where many men appeared to be gathered around something, looking at it. Shouts and catcalls floated to her ears on the wind.

“Go on, then,” Caelin McIrving urged her, and she felt the tip of the blade against her ribs. Slowly, she began walking forward.

CHAPTER THREE

“Tae look at him in his fine clothes, ye’d nae think he has the heart of a dog, would ye?” Ciarán muttered, his hand already on the pommel of his sword. “I’m fairly itchin’ fer a fight with him. Shall we take him now, Braither?”