Page 7 of The Veiled Wish of a Highland Bride

She kept tripping over her ballgown, but her husband took no notice and walked on. Eventually surrendering herself to him, she tried to play the part of the doting wife. The silk dress she was wearing had been embroidered diligently with birds and flowers—the maids had ensured Mia would be matching their Laird.

To keep the image of our marriage strong.

“My laird,” Mia mumbled as they walked across the hall, “ye must ken what happened. I was locked in the storeroom by mistake, and when I screamed for help, that man tried to get me out… but we both got locked in again. It was naething more than a mistake.”

She could see from his cold expression that he was not convinced. But his next words felt like a dagger to the heart.

“Ye can bed who ye want once ye produce an heir for me, wife. Before then, I expect ye to keep these sinful hands to yerself.” He barely looked at her as he spoke, simply walking forward and offering nods and smiles to his guests. “Tell me… what do ye think people would say if they heard that the wife of Laird Murray was found in a dark closet with theinfamousHighland Wolf?”

Mia could barely believe her ears.Highland Wolf, she thought.At least, that explains his behavior. He had been audacious beyond belief, confident that he would get exactly what he wanted. And he knew what he was doing. And as much as she had hated it, his whispers had made Mia’s heartbeat quicken. And a part of her, a foolish part, had enjoyed knowing what it felt like to be desired.

The realization colored her cheeks pink. She had beendesired.That was what being wanted felt like. She shook her head. Her marriage was too important to her to pay the man any more thought.

The Murray couple sauntered at the main table at the front of the hall, sitting on their high-backed seats. The room was well lit, and Scottish ballads were being sung, with waltzing going on at every corner. Men were drunk off ale and whiskey, while the women were drunk on attention and praise.

Mia sat with a smile plastered on her face. She wished Bram would take her to dance or speak to her, but he paid her no mind. Instead, her husband sat laughing and talking with other people.

When she wasn't staring at him in the hopes he would catch her eye, she stared at the food on the table, too nervous to take a bite—whole roasted chickens, glistening roasted potatoes, gravies, and soups, and bread, and cheese. She could see her reflection in the edge of the plate in front of her, her food untouched. The drunk men reminded her of her father; the women, of her mother. Mia was beginning to feel more uncomfortable by the second.

Underneath the silk tablecloth, she moved her hand towards Bram's. He had been gripping her knee, keeping her in place, speaking to the man by his right about land reclamation from the British. The moment he felt her touch, he flinched. It lasted a second, but Mia saw it. Bram turned to her, his expression blank, before pulling his hand away from her entirely. The message was clear in his gaze:

Dinnae ye ever touch me.

Mia was downcast. She turned her attention to the couples dancing at the center of the room, when she caught a glimpse of the man who had cornered her; Laird Macnab as she now knew him to be called.

The Highland Wolf.

He was staring at her, unfazed, a goblet in his hand. Mia returned his stare, unafraid of holding it. She was disgusted by his behavior and annoyed that he was probably a drunkard now that she knew who he was. All rakes were.

Throughout the night, Mia could feel his eyes on her, but she rarely gave him the satisfaction of looking back. She had good reason to hate the man after what he had done.

As the ball slowed to a close, Mia found the chance to excuse herself from the table. She made her way through the long, quiet hallways and into the kitchens. Most of their guests had either retired for the night or taken a woman of their choosing to the tavern down the road from the keep.

Thinking back to Macnab, who had made her want and despise him in equal measure, she wondered if she could learn the art of seduction from what he had done to her. Maybe then her husband would cast a look at her. He was theHighland Wolf.Could she be theHighland She-Wolf?

Mia picked up the kettle on the island. The fire was still crackling in the hearth, so she promptly gathered some water from the tub and hung it over the fire. She rarely ever came into the kitchen, knowing Bram hated it when she conversed with the maids.

She was glad that she had chosen this time to come; the rest of the staff was busy tending to their guests, with the cook and scullery girls in the pantry sorting their stores.

Mia looked around. The kitchen was large, with low rock ceilings and wooden counters. There were dried herbs hanging above the island, and all sorts of leftovers from the night dotted the rest of the tabletops. On her rare visits, she had noticed that the kitchen was almost never cold, even on the coolest of nights. Something was always cooking, so the fire was stoked for hours on end.

As she stood there, waiting for her water to boil for her tea, she relived the encounter in the closet in her mind. She could not help but compare it to her cold and broken marriage.

It wasn't long after that an idea popped into her mind. What if shereallyasked Macnab for help in teaching her how to seduce a man? What if she could save her marriage with help from this Highland Wolf?

If nothing else, it was worth a shot.

* * *

As though compelled by forces he did not understand, Archie could not take his eyes off of Mia all night. He stared at her as she sat stiffly throughout the ball, occasionally throwing a hard glare in his direction. When his eyes weren't glued to her, he was sizing up the rest of the ladies in attendance. However, not even one intrigued him as much as she did.

Archie was aware that he could not have Mia now that he knew she was married to Laird Murray. He was not in the business of causing conflict between clans. His reputation as a fair leader meant everything to him. Still, he knew he would need to spend the night with a woman, especially now that his blood had been stirred by the gorgeous woman gracing Laird Murray’s side.

After what seemed like forever, he chose to leave the ballroom and take a walk around the halls, a personal tour of the great Murray keep, fearing otherwise that his desire would grow too heavy to bear. He had barely stepped foot outside of the ballroom when a maid walked by him, looking as though she was retiring for the night. With her blonde hair and small frame, she reminded him of Mia Murray.

God above… I am comparing other lasses to her. She has bewitched me.

Maids were taught to be docile and subservient; Archibald knew that. Hehatedthat. But this one stared him right in the eye as though she wanted something, and he was more than willing to give it to her.

---