Page 12 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

Elinor kept waiting for him to slip, kept waiting for the moment when his grip on her would loosen and she would fall. Seeing that smug look on his face, she needed something to go wrong so she could properly blame him for it.

But nothing went wrong. His grip on her was sturdier than anything.

A wave of utter despair crashed over her as they made their way to the castle. The last time she was carried like this was two years ago when she had tried to escape. Murdock would either come after her himself—which was always worse—or send his guards after her.

At least, all the guards did was find her and bring her back. It was during one of her escapes that she found the spot she had decided to hide in from the other lairds. Before the storm decided it had other plans. Before Ciaran found her.

Whenever Murdock came after her, he would go out of his way to inform her of just how utterly helpless she was.

He wouldn’t waste any opportunity to drive home the fact that she was on her own and no one was coming to save her.

He would tell her that he would have wasted no time killing her if he didn’t desperately need an heir.

Of course, Ciaran carrying her back to the castle dredged up all sorts of memories and feelings. The feeling of being helpless. The feeling of fruitlessly struggling against the guards who brought her back.

The feeling of trying to get them to put her down as the castle loomed ahead, like some inevitable end to her story. Feelings that triggered goosebumps all over her body and sent her heart racing like a firecracker.

“Put me down,” she heard herself say once they crossed the castle fences.

The courtyard stretched out ahead of them, and the castle stood just a quarter mile beyond.

“Elinor, I told ye nae to worry about– ”

“Nay, ye daenae understand,” Elinor hissed, her panic rising with each passing second.

Her breathing had grown shallow, and if she didn’t stop to catch her breath soon–

“Ciaran, put me down.”

“Elinor– ”

“Put me down!”

Perhaps her voice was a tad louder than she had intended, and perhaps it made her look like a mad woman, but it did the job.

Ciaran gently lowered her to her feet, ensuring she found her balance before letting go.

Elinor keeled over, trying to gulp in as much air as she could. Ciaran stood by, watching her silently. When she looked back up at him, she could swear she saw a hint of something cross his face. If she did not know better, a part of her would think it was concern.

“Elinor– ” he started.

“I am fine,” she cut him off.

She knew how this was going to go. He would ask what happened, and she wouldn’t be able to give a straight answer without getting transported back to where it had happened.

“I am fine,” she reiterated, almost like she was trying to convince herself more than him.

Ciaran folded his arms across his chest. “I didnae ken that me carrying ye was such an inconvenience.”

Elinor finally straightened up, the fresh air a welcome relief on her face. She brushed back stray strands of hair from her eyes while he continued watching her.

“It isnae ye.”

“Then what is it?”

Elinor swallowed and looked around. She could see some maids standing by the doors of the castle and could hear some of the animals across the courtyard. She wondered how they would react once they saw her.

“I can walk from here on out,” she muttered.

Ciaran didn’t object or ask any more questions, for which she was immensely grateful. Instead, he only nodded and let her lead the way to the castle.

The walk for the next three minutes was silent and only punctuated by the sound of leaves rustling in the nearby trees.

“Ye think another laird had already been appointed, since ye didnae come home last night?” Ciaran asked, his eyes on the back of her head as he watched her dark brown hair drift gently in the morning wind.

Elinor smiled. “In that case, if it was any of those men, the clan is doomed.”

The first maid who saw them was a young girl feeding corn to the chickens. She dropped the corn bowl as her eyes widened in shock and hurried towards them.

“M’Lady?” she cried as she skidded to a halt before them. “M’Lady, ye’re alive! Ye’re here.”

“Oh well,” Elinor muttered under her breath.

Soon, other maids, along with Jenny, filed out of the castle and stared at them as if they had just dropped from the sky.

“We thought– ” Jenny started, her voice cracking. “We thought something terrible had happened.”

“Well,” Elinor said, “ye were wrong.”

“Oh, thank the Lord. Thank God ye’re safe.”

She could feel Ciaran’s eyes on her as the maids examined her for any injuries or bruises that needed tending. They couldn’t find any.

“Where are the other lairds?” she suddenly asked.

“They’re—They’re all in the Great Hall, M’Lady,” Jenny answered.

“All of them?”

Jenny nodded. “Aye, all of them. They returned at the first rumble of thunder.”

“Thank ye,” Elinor uttered.

The maids parted for her and Ciaran. She made her way to the castle, and he followed right behind her. The familiar coziness and warmth she had grown used to in the past few days suddenly filled her body.

“They like ye,” Ciaran muttered. “Yer maids. They like ye a lot, even though ye’re nae from here. Ye’re nae a member of this clan. At least nae fully.”

“What can I say? Their hatred for me former husband was too strong that we developed some kind of bond. A kinship.”

Ciaran laughed.

The murmurs of the lairds drifted to their ears as they drew closer to the Great Hall.

“Can ye believe it?” Elinor whispered, almost to herself. “They left at the first rumble of thunder. They didnae even wait for the storm to start before they all returned to the castle.”

“Like I said,” Ciaran muttered, “ye set this test for cowards and spineless men.”

Elinor did not answer, but she agreed. At least for now, she didn’t have to deal with them anymore.

A part of her wondered if she needed to have Thomas by her side for what was to come. She did not have to wonder for very long.

She stepped into the Great Hall, only to be enveloped by deafening noise. The smell of roasted turkey and ale permeated the air as the lairds chattered while they ate and drank, looks of utter satisfaction on their faces.

“Do ye need me to– ” Ciaran started, but Elinor raised her hand.

“I usually wait for the noise to die down,” she responded, her voice filled with determination.

Ciaran nodded and stepped aside.

Elinor stood by the entrance and waited. Then, as more eyes turned to her and Ciaran, the chatter died down.

Her eyes swept across the faces of the lairds. Some looks ranged from shock to utter surprise. She even caught a few looks of disappointment. She hoped she was only imagining those.

“By God,” a voice rang out, “ye’re alive. We have been worried sick about ye, M’Lady.”

“Thank ye, Laird MacLauren.” Elinor gave the man a smile. “However, I suppose ye werenae worried about finishing me food.”

“Ye survived,” another laird called out.

That sounded more like a threat than an expression of relief, but she dismissed the thought the instant it came.

“Aye, I did,” she confirmed. “Thanks to Laird MacTraigh here.” She gestured towards Ciaran, who was surveying the hall stoically. “He was the one who found me before the storm started and kept me safe till this morning.”

Another wave of murmurs rippled through the hall. Some of the lairds were utterly surprised, and others seemed to come to the realization before she could even speak.

“It must be clear to ye by now that we have a winner. I am grateful to all of ye for coming from far and wide to participate in this auction, but as of this morning, Laird MacTraigh has won the auction and, consequently, me hand in marriage.”

Louder murmurs rose from the tables before a sharp and familiar voice rang out. “This is preposterous!”

Elinor looked in the direction of the voice. “Well, perhaps ye should have waited a bit longer, Laird MacAllister, instead of flying back to the castle the instant ye heard the sky rumble.”

“For the love of God, ‘tis Laird MacAulay.”

Elinor laughed. “Forgive me. I am afraid I am unable to care about getting yer title right.”

Laird MacAulay’s face contorted with anger. “Ye sniveling, little– ”

“I warn ye,” Ciaran suddenly spoke up, drawing all eyes to him, “that ye’re about to speak to me future wife. So, only say to her what ye can say to me. To. Me. Face.”

Silence fell over the hall.

“Think about it, Laird MacAulay,” Ciaran continued. “Is this really worth losing a hand over?”

Even more silence, during which Elinor took the opportunity to finish her announcement.

“Yer horses have been fed properly by the stablehands, so ye should have nay problems returning to yer clans once breakfast is over.”

There was no answer. No further protest.

The lairds understood her; she knew that. She thanked them all for coming once again, and just as soon as she had come, she walked out of the Great Hall, Ciaran right behind her.

“I suppose I shall retire to me room and have a proper bath,” he whispered behind her as they walked through the long passageways. “Ye’re welcome to join me if ye want.”

“Have a lovely bath, M’Laird,” Elinor scoffed, practically waving him off.

She walked straight to the surgery, feeling like she would burst. She couldn’t wait to tell Katherine and Thomas what had happened.

She couldn’t wait to tell them every single detail.

Ciaran closed the door behind him and heard it click shut. A maid had informed him on the way to his room that a bath had been drawn.

“We drew it yesterday when we thought ye would return. But we replaced the water this morning,” she had explained.

Ciaran had thanked her properly, of course.

Now that he was alone in his room, he couldn’t wait to feel warm water on his body once again. He took off his shirt, feeling the morning air drifting from the open window kiss his skin. He then kicked off his trousers and stepped into the bath.

The warm water enveloped his body and stopped short at his neck.

He thought back to Elinor’s speech at the Great Hall. She had been way too cheery about their arrangement. It was either that or she was brilliant at hiding her real emotions.

He had expected a challenge to his proposal. No one wanted to get married to a killer, after all. Yet, for some reason, even if reluctantly, Elinor had accepted his proposal. She had seen the way he silenced the hall when he spoke.

The lairds were afraid of him. So afraid that some of them couldn’t even look him in the eye. He did not know what Elinor saw in him to agree to his proposal, and he could not help but wonder if she would see it for long.

At the end of the day, he was the Hound.

If he wasn’t the Hound, he was no one.

He had no idea who he was.