Page 2 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

“Ach! That hurts,” Elinor yelped as Jenny stuck a needle into her bodice.

“I apologize, M’Lady,” the maid said quickly.

Elinor nodded and turned back to the mirror.

Her hair was always tied into a knot behind her head, but for today, she would let it hang down.

The day was too important for her to let anything go amiss. She needed to not just find a man; she needed to find the man. The man who would pass every challenge she had laid down.

“How many lairds do ye think are out there?” she asked, standing still so Jenny could further tighten her corset.

“I asked Meredith, the cook, to count their heads when I went out to get some bathing oils. She said they were up to thirty.”

Elinor nodded.

Thirty men. Here for one thing and one thing only. Her.

While she was not certain any of the men would be able to pass the tests she had set for them, a part of her was confident she was going to enjoy this more than she could admit. The notion of thirty men jumping through hoops just for her hand was quite entertaining.

“Where is Katherine?” she asked briskly.

“She went out to get some supplies from the market, M’Lady. She asked me to give ye her best and to tell ye that she will make her way back soon to bid ye farewell.”

Elinor nodded, staring at her reflection in the mirror. It had been two weeks since she last had that discussion about the auction with the councilmen, and ever since, she had been planning and preparing for it.

Now, it was here. There was nothing to plan and prepare for anymore. Now, she had to face it head-on.

“M’Lady, are ye certain ye daenae want me to do anything with yer hair? I can tie it and ”

“Nay.” Her response was sharp and immediate. It was important to her that her hair was let down.

“If ye say so, M’Lady.” Jenny stepped back from her. “I believe ye’re good to go.”

Ciaran was certain that the surprised expression on his face after he saw the numerous horses outside the castle could not be explained, no matter how hard he tried. He was well aware of this event, but part of him didn’t think it was as popular as it apparently was.

After counting up to twenty-seven horses, he stopped and climbed down from his mount, then led it to one of the available posts near the castle entrance.

This was incredibly important, not just to him but also to his clan.

It was a way for him to prove himself and show that he could not just survive on his own but thrive as well.

The number of competitors might be a little scary at first, but he knew deep down that he had something they didn’t. Determination.

As he tied his horse to the post, the cold afternoon air playfully caressing his face, a voice from the distance called out, sharp and jolting, “Ye cannae tie yer horse there. ‘Tis reserved.”

He froze halfway and turned in the direction the voice had come from. A young, dark-haired man who couldn’t be more than twenty-five years old approached him.

“It was an empty spot,” Ciaran explained.

“That’s why it’s reserved. Did ye nae hear anything I just said?” The dark-haired man stopped before him, his hand tight around the hilt of his sword. “I believe ye– ” He broke off.

Ciaran cocked his head and gave him a questioning look.

It was as if the man was suddenly seeing an entirely different person.

“By God, ‘tis ye.”

That was more like it. The expression Ciaran usually got from people. It never got old.

“Ye ken who I am?” he asked, his voice low.

“Aye. I didnae ken ye would be here.”

“The message was sent to all the lairds, was it nae?”

“Ye’re—ye’re a laird?”

Ciaran reached forward and gently placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “’Tis a long story, lad. But in short, aye, I am a laird. So, what were ye saying about leaving me horse here?”

“Oh.” The man shook his head. “Ye can leave it wherever ye want. I willnae stop ye.”

Ciaran flashed him a smirk. “I’m grateful. Now, would ye kindly tell me where I should go? I shall get out of yer way.”

“The Great Hall. Ye cannae miss it when ye enter.”

Ciaran nodded again, flashing him another grateful smirk. “Thank ye, lad. Ye have been incredibly helpful.”

The man smiled in return.

“Since ye already ken who I am, ‘tis only proper that I ask for yer name.”

The man nodded, his expression sobering. “’Tis Thomas.”

“Thomas. Ye live in this castle?”

“Aye.”

“’Tis nice to meet ye, Thomas. Hopefully, this event goes well and we see more of each other soon.”

Thomas only let out a half-hearted laugh.

Ciaran gave him another pat on the shoulder and made his way to the castle, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

“I’ll look after yer horse!” he heard Thomas call out from behind him.

But he didn’t turn around. Instead, he proceeded towards the castle, the smirk still lingering on his face.

Elinor continued to fan herself for the better part of a minute, walking back and forth right outside the Great Hall. Katherine had arrived a few minutes ago and was now standing nearby, watching her slowly spiral into a giant pool of self-doubt.

“This was a mistake. Ye ken this was a mistake, do ye nae?”

“The real mistake is what is going to happen to yer face if ye continue to sweat like that, M’Lady,” Katherine responded. “’Tis normal to feel a little doubt, but the Lairds are here. They’re all outside, waiting for ye. Ye have to do what’s right and speak to them.”

Silence descended on them, and Elinor fanned herself even harder.

“Believe me, Elinor,” Katherine continued. “If the Lairds thought this whole thing was a terrible and juvenile idea, they wouldnae have shown up in the first place.”

Elinor nodded. “Ye’re right.”

“Aye. Now, go out there and speak to them like ye’re supposed to.”

Elinor nodded and took a few deep breaths, then proceeded into the Great Hall.

The number of men trudging back and forth across the hall seemed uncountable as she walked in. Not because there were egregiously many, but because they kept moving around and wouldn’t stay in one place to be counted, no matter how hard she tried.

She wondered how she was going to get them to stop talking and wandering around while they still had the daylight.

She didn’t have to wonder for long. It started with the first laird who turned to her.

Their eyes met, and a polite smile crept onto her face.

Then, the Laird signaled to the others. One after another, they all grew aware of her presence, which caused the murmurings to fizzle out until silence reigned.

She swallowed. All eyes were now on her. It was now or never. She had to seize their attention while she still had it and do something with it.

“Women,” she started, forcing the tremors out of her voice, “have always been required to have some attributes when they’re being auctioned off for marriage. They must be fertile, obedient, and nurturing.”

More silence ensued, such that one could hear a pin drop.

“For this particular auction, I expect the Lairds to boast some qualities as well. I expect them to be protective, caring, and humorous.”

For some reason, the last sentence elicited a ripple of murmurs amongst the men.

“There’s a lot of humor in here, M’Lady!” the voice of a man pointing to his trousers called.

Mild laughter rang out across the hall.

Elinor studied him for the briefest of minutes as he basked in the joy of making people laugh.

He looked incredibly scruffy and was in his late fifties. It wasn’t like he had a chance with her in the first place, but now with those words, he was certainly out of the ring.

She would let him keep playing, though. It would make it hurt even more when she revealed to him later that he never had a chance in the first place.

The murmurs resumed, and Elinor moved further into the hall, watching the lairds speak with one another. She could see it in their eyes, the zeal. Each of them seemed to think that he’d be the victorious one once this ended.

The thought alone made her laugh.

Katherine walked up to her with a smile on her face. “Ye see, that wasnae so bad now, was it?”

Elinor nodded.

Katherine handed her a glass. “For ye.”

Elinor took it and wrapped her hands tightly around it, as if the glass were her anchor.

“’Tis as if I got the runt of the litter,” Elinor muttered. “These men arenae impressive, Katherine. If I have to end up with any of them, I’d probably kill meself before the wedding.”

“Dinnae worry,” Katherine said, “ye already mentioned earlier that the challenge is difficult, is it nae? Who ever wins it wins ye.”

Elinor nodded. Perhaps her friend was right, to a certain point.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the utter silence that descended on the room at that moment froze the words in her throat.

The lairds suddenly all parted from the entrance to where she was standing, revealing the cause of the silence.

A man stood by the entrance, the sun casting a bright glow behind him.

Elinor narrowed her eyes at him. He seemed to be enjoying the attention he was receiving, and she wasn’t certain if she liked that.

He walked in, the sound of his footsteps reverberating across the floor and echoing through the hall as the silence grew thicker.

“Who is that?” Katherine whispered behind her.

Elinor shrugged in response.

He was tall. Very tall. And he walked like he owned the hall. Like everyone was waiting for him and he was happy with his entrance.

Elinor watched as his figure drew nearer with each footstep, till he stopped before her. She studied him, her eyes raking over him from head to toe.

His green eyes and long dark curls were piercing, adding so much mystery to his face and the way he seemed to carry himself.

“Greetings, M’Lady,” he greeted, his voice clear and smooth.

Elinor held out her hand, and he took it, leaned down, and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. His stubble tickled her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

“And ye must be…”

“Laird MacTraigh, at yer service,” he announced.

The silence behind them had started to dissipate and was replaced by cautious murmurs this time around.

“I’m afraid I am nae familiar with yer clan.”

“‘Tis nay issue. We’re still new.”

“New?”

“Aye. Young.”

“I see. And ye thought ye might as well try yer luck here?”

“Ach, well, ye did invite lairds, did ye nae?”

“And what makes ye, Laird MacTraigh, so special?” she asked, still confused by the silence he had commanded when he entered.

“Ye may ken me by me other name.”

“What other name?”

He smiled. “They call me the Hound.”

Elinor went still. “What?”

“Aye. That’s me.”

Waves of immense shock washed over her, and she could not tell the exact moment her grip on her glass had faltered. All she heard was the glass crashing hard against the floor and shattering into pieces.

The Hound?