A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,156

had refused, he wasn’t feeling very charitable.

Oh, how his sister must have suffered at the hands of the butcher of the loyalist government army—also known as the Duke of Cumberland, son to King George who’d exacted his revenge on the Scottish rebels in favor of Bonnie Prince Charlie. Knowing that had made him harden his heart. Not just to the bloody Sassenachs who’d murdered her, but to those bastard Campbells, who might as well have been a party to it for they hadn’t done much to protect her.

The place in his chest that used to burn a fire for a cause, had now frozen over, beating only for revenge.

Before this moment, Lady Sarah Campbell had considered herself to be quite beloved by her family.

But now, as she backed against the wall in the darkened corridor, she realized what a complete fool she’d been. How easily she’d allowed herself to live in a bubble of pure fantasy. For it was evident now, considering the conversation happening on the other side of the tightly closed door, that she was only a commodity to be traded.

Her heart pounded in her ears, threatening to drown out the rest of the conversation happening within.

“There will be dozens of them present.” This was the distinctive deep voice of her younger brother Edward.

“Ye were smart, brother, to invite everyone for the Christmas feast. No one will guess that we’re actually brokering a deal.” And that had been her other youngest brother Ellyson’s reply.

Both her brothers chuckled, following by the sound of clinking. Were they giving cheers to selling her off?

Sarah fumed, hands fisted at her side, and her jaw clenched so tight she risked breaking a tooth. To them, she was a deal to be brokered, and neither of them seemed to care one wit that she was human, and until a few moments ago, their much-beloved sister.

Alas, that had all been in her mind, for it was evident now that she didn’t mean as much to them as she thought she did. What an absolutely pathetic idiot she’d been.

The Christmas feast that she’d been helping to prepare for weeks—had in fact planned most of—was just a ruse to auction her off to the highest bidder. Why did they even bother with the feast to begin with? They could have saved themselves a lot of trouble and resources if they’d simply tossed her naked out into the moors for the quickest man to grab.

The clans were all hurting for money and staples since the Battle of Culloden, and though their clan was larger and richer than others, their size was the problem. They were large, too large, and had a lot of mouths to feed. So why not get rid of her and collect coin in the process?

She was nothing but a piece of property.

Jon was so busy with the rebellion these last few years that he’d put off arranging a marriage for her, and she’d been glad for it. Now that she was five and twenty, she thought for certain she’d be too long in the tooth for anyone to want her. Apparently not.

Sarah reached forward, preparing to bang on the door to tell them exactly what she thought of their disgusting plan, but what they said next stilled her.

“Northumberland’s son will be there, as well.”

“English bastards,” cursed her brother Edward.

“Aye. We’ll rob him blind if he’s willing to take her.”

Selling her to a bloody Sassenach made her stomach curdle, and she dropped her hand, pressing it to her gut, willing herself not to vomit. Northumberland…The same man who’d killed their brother and cousins on the field of battle.

Oh, dear God, she could not be wed to a Sassenach! Especially one who’d led a red-coated regiment against her own kin. What had got into her brothers?

Greed.

Sarah pinched her forearm, hoping this was a dream, but the pain radiating from the spot between her thumb and forefinger was very real.

They rattled off a few other names—all men she knew to be violent, and several more that were in league with the government, having gone against Bonnie Prince Charlie. Was that it then? After having fought for the prince at Culloden, her brothers were now prepared to sell their souls, and hers, to the highest bidder?

This wouldn’t do. It couldn’t.

Again, she raised her hand to rap on the door, to barge inside and tell them that they were crazy, but something stopped her. What if they denied her argument? What if they were so desperate for coin that