Page 15 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

“Oh well,” Ciaran spoke for the first time that night. “I initially wanted to light a fire under him and watch his skin burn to the bone. It would only be fair, ye ken. But I thought dying of blood loss was slower and more painful.”

“Oh, good.” The man placed a hand on his chest. “For a minute there, I thought ye didnae speak more than two sentences at once. I daenae ken if that would have made ye more or less scary.”

Ciaran stifled a chuckle, and silence descended between them. The cold night wind blew beyond the fences, rustling the leaves.

“As much as I admire ye—and this is a lot, in case ye cannae already tell—I daenae ken if ye’re the kind of man me sister needs at the moment.”

Ciaran went still.

A braither.

Of course. No wonder the man was able to stand his ground while speaking with him. That explained everything. It seemed to be a family trait—looking at danger in the face.

Ciaran turned to him, his eyes widening. “Ye’re Elinor’s braither?”

“I will never admit that in public, but aye. Jackson.”

“Why nae?” Ciaran asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Ye do ken who ye’re marrying do ye nae? She's a hellion.”

Ciaran fell silent, still trying to process the fact that he had been talking to Elinor’s brother the entire time.

“Has she said anything about yer past? Ye ken, being a killer and all of that?”

Ciaran scoffed.

Only about a few hundred times.

“She has mentioned it once or twice, aye,” he muttered instead.

“Look. She might think she kens what she wants, but I—well, we think she might be in a state of shock.”

“Shock?”

“Ye ken, from her previous marriage. Only a woman in shock would go from being the widow of a man like… Laird MacAdair to deciding to get married to someone like ye.”

Ciaran grimaced.

“Nay offense,” Jackson continued, gesturing to him, “but ye ken how it is, her being me sister and all.”

Words formed on the tip of Ciaran’s tongue, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get them out.

“Dinnae get me wrong, I would drink ale with ye any day,” Jackson clarified. “I would even travel across the Highlands with ye. But ye will have to forgive me if I am a bit averse to the idea of a man like ye marrying a woman like Elinor.”

The last words lingered in the air for a while.

A woman like Elinor. What could that possibly mean? Was she hiding something from him? Something he should have known about before the wedding?

“Ye ken how it is. Ye ken how we’re responsible for our siblings. Just like ye were responsible for yer braither, God rest his soul.”

Ciaran squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t correct him. Not this time. There were other pressing issues he needed to deal with.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?” Jackson returned, the innocent tone grating on his nerves. What else could he be asking?

“Why do ye think I am nae the right man for yer sister?”

“Well, because this is the first time in years that she’s free to remember who she is on her own– ”

“What do ye mean, who she is on her own?”

“Look, Laird MacTraigh. I’m just a bit worried that a man like ye might… overwhelm her.”

“Ye mean a killer?”

“I didnae want to put it so bluntly, but aye.”

Ciaran leaned back in his chair, a mild chuckle escaping his lips.

“What? What is it? What did I say?”

The air grew colder for some reason, and Ciaran knew he would not be able to stay outside for much longer. He needed the heat.

“’Tis just hilarious to me, how everyone around her seems to treat her like a fragile thing that will break if one isnae careful. I’ve seen nothing but fire from her.”

Jackson sat back. “Oh, really? Then ye might consider yerself lucky. Nae everyone gets to see this side of hers. Nae these days.”

A series of questions flooded through Ciaran’s mind.

What did he mean by being in a state of shock from her previous marriage? What happened between her and her late husband? What was everyone treating her like she would fall apart at the slightest inconvenience?

“What happened?” he eventually asked, unable to help himself. Jackson turned to him. “Ye said that after the shock from her previous marriage, a man like me might overwhelm her. Well, what happened to her?”

“I suppose ye havenae spoken to her yet about it?”

“Nae exactly.”

“I daenae ken if I should be the one telling ye this, then. Ye should hear it from her.”

Hear what from her? What in God’s name had happened that was making everyone tiptoe around her? What had her former husband done?

“Ye ken she might nae tell me,” Ciaran pointed out. “At least nae directly.”

Jackson pressed his lips together, and for the first time since they’d sat together, Ciaran saw hesitation on his face. Or at the very least, what looked like hesitation.

“Again, this is something ye want to hear from her.”

“He’s right.”

The voice came from behind, causing them both to go still for the briefest of moments. Then, almost like they were being controlled by the same brain, they twisted around.

Their eyes landed on Elinor, who was standing behind them, her hands clasped behind her back, her silky white dress highlighting her tired and slightly upset face.

“And good work , trying to spook our guest, Jackson,” she added, fixing her brother with a cold glare.