Page 11 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

Ciaran stepped outside and closed the door behind him. The storm last night had created a shallow lake that was still running from the woods beyond the cabin.

He dipped the plates into the water, a multitude of thoughts flooding his mind.

This was his chance to finally prove himself worthy of his people. If this marriage with Elinor worked out, he would finally get everything he wanted.

He shook the plates into the water and rinsed them off. Then, he rose to his feet and watched the horizon above the trees. The stretch of land ahead of him, from the cabin to the woods, would belong to him if this marriage succeeded.

Of course, that was not even remotely one of the reasons he had decided to participate in this auction, but it was fascinating to know that it came as a bonus.

He eventually returned to the cabin, his eyes peeled as he put the plates by the fireplace.

“Ye ken ye have to find the man ye say is in charge of the cabin and thank him profusely for a job well done?” he called out, watching the water slide off the plates.

He turned to Elinor to find her glaring at him like she usually did.

“What?” he asked. “Do I have something on me teeth?”

Elinor didn’t respond at first.

“What is it?” he coaxed, staring at her.

“Yer shirt,” Elinor muttered. “‘Tis inside out.”

Ciaran looked down at his shirt and exhaled. He had deliberately worn it inside out last night so it would dry up quickly. He rolled his eyes and took it off.

Elinor spun around almost immediately as if a disaster was happening and she needed to avert her eyes.

A mild chuckle escaped Ciaran’s lips. “Since we are getting married, Elinor, I would say ye have earned the right to look at me naked body.”

Elinor shuffled her weight from foot to foot and turned back around, wringing her hands. She watched him turn his shirt inside out, his skin and the scars that ran across some parts of his body shimmering in the low fire.

He could tell she had questions about his scars, but he decided not to bring them up. Whenever she was ready to ask, she would.

“So,” he said, putting his shirt back on, “what do ye think?”

Elinor narrowed her eyes at him. “I think ye could’ve worn a much better shirt before ye left the castle.”

Ciaran laughed. “About the marriage, Elinor.”

“I daenae think anything of it.” Elinor shrugged. “Ye won the auction. The least I can do is keep me word.”

Ciaran took a step closer. “Is that the only reason? Ye’re marrying me because ye think ye’re the prize of some game I won?”

Elinor cocked her head. “Well, what other reason is there?”

Ciaran nodded. “I suppose ye have a fair point. Ye have never refused to let yer disdain for me go unknown.”

“I apologize if I am nae jumping up and down, eager to marry a man known for killing people.”

A part of Ciaran agreed with her, but it still hurt to hear her label him as some kind of mindless murderer.

Elinor grabbed the towel she had been wearing and folded it slowly. Silence filled the air. She could see the sun peeking above the trees.

“Oh, I found another reason,” she added suddenly, her voice dripping with cheer. “I’m marrying the Hound.”

Ciaran looked at her like she had gone crazy. “What are ye talking about this time?”

“I’m marrying the Hound,” she repeated.

“I heard ye the first time,” Ciaran muttered.

“Nay, ye daenae get it. I’m marrying the Hound. It means nay man will dare to come near me,” she explained, before her voice dropped an octave. “Well, if ye daenae kill me first.”

Ciaran laughed, thinking this was another one of her jokes. When he saw the stone-cold expression on her face, he shook his head and placed a hand on his chest.

“Elinor, I solemnly swear nae to murder ye for any reason whatsoever. Even if that reason might be valid.”

Elinor frowned. “Ye think ye’re so smart, do ye nae?”

“I ken I am. ‘Tis why I’m the only one here, and nae the others,” he responded.

Elinor shrugged again in response. The towel almost slipped from her hands, and she started to fold it again, then she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Would ye object to a big wedding?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the towel, even though it was clear to Ciaran that she was not fully paying attention to it.

“I daenae mind. The bigger, the better. What about ye?”

She nodded quickly. “I daenae mind that as well.”

“Really?” Ciaran asked.

He walked to the edge of the bed and sat next to her. She eventually turned to him, their faces merely inches apart.

“Ye daenae have any problem with it at all?”

She shook her head. “Nay.”

“Nae even the fact that ye’re marrying a killer? Ye havenae been exactly shy to bring that up at every given opportunity.”

“Like I said, marrying ye will guarantee me protection from other men.”

Ciaran grinned. “Did yer former husband nae offer ye protection?”

Elinor turned to the towel again, loosening the folds deliberately this time.

Ciaran immediately sensed the change in her mood.

“Elinor, if I did anything– ”

“Let us talk about something else, shall we?” she mumbled, cutting him off.

Ciaran didn’t argue. Instead, he lay back on the bed and heaved a sigh of relief. His eyes strayed to her back, tracing the laces of her dress.

“How soon do ye want an heir?” she asked.

“Why? Are ye keen on giving me one as soon as possible?” he drawled, a sly smile on his face. “How soon will ye submit to me?”

Elinor coughed and lowered her head, trying desperately to look busy with the towel she continued to loosen and fold all over again.

Ciaran sat up and reached for her chin.

“Like I said…” he muttered, turning her to him. Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart now. If he leaned closer, their lips would touch. “I daenae want an heir.”

Silence descended on them like a thick, wet blanket. For the better part of a minute, they remained in that position until Ciaran turned his head away.

“I daenae want an heir,” he repeated.

“That makes nay sense. Ye’re a laird. Yer people arenae many ; the main thing that should be on yer mind now is laying down as many roots as possible. I cannae believe ye.”

“Well, I’m nae joking about this. I have never wanted a child. I daenae think the desire would come now.”

He looked out the window. The world around them had been cast in a golden glow, thanks to the rising sun. The wet soil glimmered, and the day was growing brighter with each passing moment.

“Ye will have to forgive me if I cannae believe ye,” Elinor persisted. “If ye daenae want a child, then why participate in the auction? Why go through any of this in the first place?”

Ciaran’s eyes were still fixed on the window. “We should be leaving soon.”

“If that is yer way of avoiding me questions, ye’re doing a terrible job at it.”

“I am nae avoiding yer questions. I am simply choosing nae to answer them.”

“That’s the same thing, is it nae?” Elinor argued, a hint of annoyance in her voice. “And ye ken what? Ye are absolutely right. We need to get going.”

She folded the towel one last time and placed it on the mattress, ignoring—or at least trying to ignore—his musky smell as she leaned past him.

She rose to her feet and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. “I will kill the fire,” she muttered and stepped outside, leaving Ciaran to his racing thoughts for a minute.

He could hear her footsteps outside and even her frustration with him. He had been hiding a lot of himself since they got stuck together during the storm and would barely reveal anything. If he was going to make her his wife, that had to change.

He would try to change.

Elinor returned to the cabin, the bowl in her hand now filled with water. Ciaran watched her with renewed interest as she threw the water on the fire. White smoke rose into the chimney.

“Ye wanted to ken why I was called the Hound,” he murmured.

She didn’t turn around, but she stopped moving, and that was how he knew she was listening to him.

“‘Tis because I have done things. Things ye cannae imagine. Things that will give ye nightmares for days if I tell ye about them. Ye must ken that in nay way am I proud of them. I just want ye to see where I am coming from.”

Elinor put the bowl back in the cabinet and turned to him.

Why was this so hard? He had killed lairds more easily.

“I cannae– ” He broke off, but she said nothing. She just watched him. “I cannae bring a bairn into this world with me reputation. I cannae subject a child to having a man like me as his or her faither.”

A sigh escaped Elinor’s lips. Then, she walked back to the bed and sat beside him.

“Believe me when I say that nay child deserves to have me as their faither,” Ciaran said, his words firm and final, as if that was all he planned to say about the matter.

Elinor sighed again and turned to the window. The sun had risen fully by now, and the cabin was flooded with even more light.

“So why are ye here?” she asked. Ciaran was surprised by how soft her voice was. “Why go through all of this?”

“I didnae do it for an heir. I did it for me people,” he replied.

Elinor’s eyes flicked back to him. “Yer people?”

“Aye.” He nodded. “When I wanted to…” He paused, almost like he was carefully choosing his words.

“When I tried to leave and create a clan of me own, a lot of people followed me. People who had faith and believed in who I am and what I can be. I need this marriage to work so I can secure a place for them. A place where they wouldnae be persecuted and attacked. I also need to relocate some of them. Believe it or nae, Elinor, Clan MacAdair is powerful. I need some of that power to help me people.”

Silence stretched between them like the sunrays across the horizon.

Elinor seemed to be considering his words, but for some reason, a part of him felt like he needed to say something to fully drive his point home. Like a nail in the coffin.

“A lot of them lost their homes and jobs because of their faith in me, Elinor. I cannae let them down.”

Elinor nodded, then she rose to her feet.

Ciaran could see it before she even spoke—the look of understanding on her face. He wondered if she knew what it felt like to desire nothing but freedom. To be able to break the very chains that kept one prisoner.

“I have a map of the Highlands back in me study,” she started. “Me late husband was a meticulous man. ‘Tis how he was able to…” she trailed off.

Ciaran arched his eyebrows. “Able to what?”

“Ye daenae need to worry about that. The point is, we can study the maps when we return and find the perfect place to relocate yer people. How about that?”

Ciaran nodded. “I would like that very much. Thank ye.”

Elinor nodded. “Good. Now that we have that sorted out, can we leave this cabin already?”

Ciaran rose to his feet and walked to the fireplace. The fire had almost died out, after Elinor threw water in it, but he needed to make certain that it was completely gone before they left.

“And Ciaran,” Elinor added.

“What?”

“Just because we’re married and ye have decided that I daenae have to turn around to see ye undress, doesnae mean I will return the same favor.”

“I wouldnae expect anything less.” He laughed.

This was it. This was a great way to establish a rapport. She had agreed to help him, and hopefully, she could keep up her end of the deal.

“There is one thing that is non-negotiable, though,” he said, looking right at her.

Elinor frowned, not liking the mischief that flickered in his eyes.

“What?” she asked, her tone hesitant, as if she was not certain if she wanted to hear the answer.

“I have to carry ye back to the castle.”

“Ye will do nay such thing,” Elinor huffed before he could finish speaking.

“Look,” Ciaran said. “Aside from the fact that it is a great way to announce our impending nuptials, have ye seen the terrain outside? Ye’ll only slow us down if ye walk.”

“I willnae let ye carry me again, Laird MacTraigh, and that is final,” she insisted, jutting her chin.

Smoke continued to rise from the fireplace, filling the room gently as she closed the window. Ciaran stood beside the door and waited for her to leave first.

She stepped out, and he followed.

The path back to the castle was slick with mud. Ciaran walked ahead of her to determine whether the path was safe, at least for a slow walk. Elinor gingerly stepped off the porch and slowly followed behind him.

Suddenly, her feet slipped across the slick, shiny mud, and she flailed her arms as she fell face-first to the ground. Ciaran caught her right on time, his hands gripping her waist tightly. Slowly, he pulled her upright, watching the realization dawn in her bright blue eyes.

“What did I say about nae slowing us down?” he asked, a snarky grin stretching his lips.

Elinor exhaled, and a mild groan escaped her lips at the same time. “Alright. But if ye drop me, I will– ”

“Elinor, I carried rocks three times heavier than ye. Ye daenae pose any problem for me.”

Before she could give him an appropriate response, he lifted her off her feet, catching her completely off guard. She gasped, unable to hide her surprise.

“Ye’re enjoying every single moment of this, are ye nae?” she scoffed.

“Oh, ye have nay idea,” he drawled.

Elinor let out another groan.

“And back to the castle we go,” he intoned, the same grin still plastered on his face.

It annoyed her even more. But he knew that. And for some reason, it made the whole ordeal satisfying.

He waded through the wet trees and soft soil, feeling satisfied by one thing and one thing only—the look on Elinor’s face.