Page 22 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

Elinor scrambled to her feet, grabbing her dress as she did so. Ciaran rose as well, pulling his trousers back up.

“Elinor?” Anna called again, followed by more knocks.

“Uh—I shall be there in a second, Anna,” Elinor called back, hoping her voice was enough to dissuade her sister from walking in.

She turned her back to Ciaran, the urgency in her voice seeping into her body.

“Tighten the laces at the back, please.” The words escaped her mouth in a shaky whisper.

Ciaran nodded and stepped closer to her. She could feel his fingers move over the fabric, and a part of her feared he was doing it all wrong. But her dress was tightening around her like it should.

“I am only going to move the other portraits somewhere else so the Laird’s can be properly hung when ready.”

“Ha! Hung,” Ciaran whispered behind her, his lips gently grazing the nape of her neck.

A shudder racked her entire body, the kind she had felt when his fingers were inside her.

“Now isnae the time for jokes, Ciaran,” she muttered as he tightened the laces further.

“Ye have to admit, it was funny,” he insisted.

Elinor rolled her eyes, but her face twitched, ready to break into a smile almost any second. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction, so as soon as he was done with the dress, she made for the door. Her feet quickened across the stone floor, barely making a sound.

She pulled the door open after making sure that Ciaran was hidden in the back, out of view.

“Why did ye nae just enter?” she asked, staring at her sister while gripping the doorknob tightly.

“What are ye still doing in here? We have a wedding to plan, do we nae?”

“Aye,” Elinor responded, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Anna narrowed her eyes at her, almost like she could see through her.

Elinor just stood there and tried to breathe slowly, wondering if her sister could tell.

Anna’s eyes then flickered to her dress and seemed to narrow further the lower they went. Elinor felt her heart sink into her stomach.

“What is that?” Anna asked, pointing to the bottom of her skirt.

Elinor swallowed.

Nay. Nay. Nay. This is bad. This is really bad.

“What is what?” she asked anyway.

“That!” Anna said, jabbing her finger pointedly. “Is that paint?”

Elinor’s eyes darted to the spot at the bottom of her skirt. A yellow stain stood out distinctly. She exhaled.

“Was that what ye were doing in here? Trying to paint?” Anna asked, mirth lacing her voice.

Elinor let out a laugh, although it was cautious. “I suppose ye could say that,” she responded.

Anna nodded. “Well, stop that. Ye can pick it up after ye get married. We have nay time for now, do ye understand me?”

“Aye. I shall join ye soon,” Elinor assured.

“Good,” Anna muttered and then walked away, leaving her to her heated thoughts and pounding heart.

As her sister’s footsteps faded down the corridor, Ciaran emerged from the back of the gallery and trudged towards her.

“I suppose that was close, was it nae?”

Elinor turned to him and arched an eyebrow. “Are ye being serious?”

Ciaran laughed. “Ye should go. Anna is right; ye have a wedding to plan.”

Elinor nodded.

And yet they remained standing there for the next minute or so, before something broke the spell. A noise from outside, or perhaps the wind. But before Elinor could mull it over, she was on the other side of the door.

“Wait for a minute or two after I am gone before ye leave,” she muttered.

Ciaran laughed. “The entire castle kens we are getting married in a week. I daenae think they will mind that we spent time alone in the gallery.”

“Just wait before ye leave,” Elinor insisted, her voice sharp.

She turned around and walked out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Her feet quickened down the corridor, and she only gave a nod to the maids who walked past her. A part of her hoped they couldn’t see just how flushed her cheeks were, but she walked anyway.

Ciaran Brooks, ye will be the end of me.

If Anna paced her room one more time, Elinor might lose her mind.

She had been watching her sister walk back and forth before the door to the bathing chamber for almost five minutes now, and it was beginning to bother her.

What was on her sister’s mind? Had Elinor been wrong about to assume that her sister had not noticed anything? Was Anna about to challenge her on what she might or might not have seen in the gallery in the first place?

“I am going to ask ye a very important question, Elinor.” Anna’s voice was somber and firm.

Her hair glowed bright red in the sunlight that streamed through the window as she approached Elinor.

Silence reigned over the room, punctuated only by the sound of her steady footsteps.

“It is very important that ye answer this question as honestly as ye can,” she continued, her eyes narrowing to slits.

Chills raced down Elinor’s spine. She watched her sister lower herself onto the edge of the bed, one hand resting gingerly on her belly.

“Tell me…” Anna began.

Elinor felt her resolve harden. One way or the other, they were going to have it out, right here and right now.

“Do ye want to wear yer hair loose or braided tight?”

Elinor swallowed. “What?”

“Ye ken,” Anna said, “for the wedding. Do ye want it braided tight or loose?”

Elinor exhaled again.

Good Lord.

“Is that the question ye intend to ask me? Is that why ye have been pacing back and forth for the past seven minutes?”

“Hair is important,” Anna stated, her voice devoid of any hint of sarcasm. She was, in fact, being serious and Elinor could tell. “Some people say that how ye wear yer hair on yer wedding day tells what kind of wife ye’re going to be.”

“And what kind of wife would I be if I wear me hair loose?”

Anna frowned. “Why would ye want to do that?”

“So I can simply take off the ribbon when I get overwhelmed and decide to run away.”

“I ken this is all a joke to ye, but I must advise that ye daenae joke about these things. Weddings are magical, and whatever ye say, ye may manifest.”

Elinor laughed. “I am marrying a famed killer. I think it is safe to say that magic is out of the question. I just want to get this over with. Also, I am certain he willnae be looking at me hair and checking whether it’s braided or nae.”

Anna opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when a knock sounded at the door.

“‘Tis just me.” Katherine’s voice floated through the door before it creaked open.

The healer walked in, her eyes bright as they settled on Elinor.

Elinor remained in her seat, the smile at her sister’s remarks lingering on her face.

“If I am interrupting something, I can just– ”

“The only thing ye’re interrupting is me decision to wear me hair loose for the wedding,” she cut in, before Katherine could turn around and walk out the door.

“Loose?” Katherine echoed, her eyebrows flying up to her hairline. “That is quite a bold choice.”

“That is what I said,” Anna piped up.

“I daenae think Ciaran will care about the way I style me hair. This isnae some kind of elaborate wedding.”

“Ye’re marrying the Hound ,” Anna emphasized, her voice sharp and clear. “We need to make sure that the whole Highlands talk about yer wedding for weeks, if nae months, to come.”

“I daenae think it needs to be that serious. ‘Tis me second wedding anyway.”

Thick, tense silence swept through the room. Elinor’s eyes flicked to Katherine, who had nothing but pity in her eyes.

“Ye daenae have to worry about me,” Elinor insisted.

“How did ye wear yer hair on yer first wedding?” Anna asked suddenly.

“Anna– ”

“Please,” she said. “Indulge me.”

“I wasnae exactly thinking about how me hair looked back then. I was trying to find a way to survive.”

“Think,” Anna pressed. “Try to remember.”

Elinor squeezed her eyes shut and tried to sift through her memories from three years ago. “Loose.”

“So we shall be braiding it this time.”

Elinor wanted to protest, to say that it didn’t matter how her hair looked back then. Back then, she was getting married to a brutal bastard. The style of her hair could not save her at that point.

However, Katherine quickly changed the subject, and the words died in her throat.

“I hear the dressmaker is in the market today. What do ye think about a visit to her stall?”

“Now?”

Anna turned to Elinor. “Ye arenae taking this wedding as seriously as I would like.”

“‘Tis only a wedding, Anna,” Elinor argued, her voice sharp. “But aye, let us go see the dressmaker.”

“Should I ask Thomas to come with us?” Katherine asked, already moving to the door.

Anna, on the other hand, rose to her feet, her hand still resting on her belly.

“Nay,” Elinor answered. “‘Tis only a trip to the market. I daenae think I need me man-at-arms to come. Do ye?”

Anna shrugged, and Katherine nodded.

They remained in the room as she slipped out of her dress. Her eyes scanned her dress as she hung it in her wardrobe, flashes of what had happened earlier suddenly flooding her mind.

His touch, the way he had worshipped her in the gallery. His tongue on her nipple. His fingers inside her. His teeth on?—

Get it together, Elinor!

She quickly grabbed another dress.

“I remember me first wedding dress. I didnae choose it,” she heard herself say as they left her room and headed down to the courtyard.

A carriage was waiting by the fences, and the three ladies walked towards it, the hot afternoon air gently caressing their faces.

“I was practically dressed like a present for Murdock to unwrap later that night,” she continued.

“Well, this time ye get to choose. Nay matter what color ye pick, I will fully support it. As long as ye pick it.”

Elinor smiled.

They all climbed into the carriage, and the driver yanked on the reins. The clip-clop of horses’ hooves rose in the air as they left in a cloud of dust.

The journey to the marketplace was short and awkward. Elinor tried to think of something else. The fabric of the dress she would choose. The color and the design. The cut of the neckline. But she couldn’t.

The only thing on her mind was the gallery. Ciaran, half-naked, stroking himself. The way he wrapped his palm around his length and pumped slowly at first, staring into her soul.

Even as they alighted from the carriage and strolled around the market, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She nodded at a series of M’Lady s that seemed to envelop them like wrapping paper.

They stopped right by the dressmaker’s stall, and the dressmaker showed them some fabrics Elinor might be interested in. The realization suddenly crashed into her as the older woman presented several bolts of fabric.

Anna stood close, watching her intently. “I daenae ken if there’s a right choice, but seeing these fabrics, I can tell there’s a wrong one,” she whispered.

Elinor’s eyes darted from one bolt to the other, the realization sinking into her further.

“What if I am only doing this all over again, Anna? Ciaran may nae be the problem, but what about his—well, his family?”

A tense silence swept through the stall before Katherine pulled the dressmaker aside and spoke with her.

Elinor couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she knew it was about the dresses anyway.

“Ye ken what they say,” Anna murmured, her voice soft. “Lightning doesnae strike twice in the same spot.”

Elinor opened her mouth to answer, but the words refused to come out.

“I spoke to him in the gallery, ye ken,” Anna added anyway.

“Aye, I could tell. He wanted to ken if I truly dyed Faither’s horse pink.”

“Oh,” Anna muttered, a wave of red creeping up her face. “He told ye about that?”

“What do ye think?” Elinor scoffed. “I kenned ye told him about the flower I painted on Faither’s head as well.”

“I was only trying to see what he intended to do with ye,” Anna explained.

“We may dance around it for a while, but the truth is still the truth. Ye’re marrying a man with a dangerous reputation.

We need to be certain that he is doing this because he loves ye.

Or at the very least because he willnae do anything Murdock did to ye. ”

Elinor blew out a breath. A part of her was elated that this time, she had family and friends on her side. She could weather the storm—if it eventually turned out to be so—without worrying about anything else. Yet, the thought continued to consume her, like an unseen yet tangible presence.

She was marrying Ciaran Brooks.

This was real.

“This one,” she eventually said, gesturing towards one of the fabrics, a long green lace dress embroidered with thick lily designs.

“Ye ken how I said earlier that there was a wrong choice?” Anna asked, her voice gentle.

Elinor looked up at her sister. “Ye think this is the wrong choice?”

Anna smiled. “Nae in the slightest.”

Something about her response told Elinor that this wasn’t about the dress.

If everyone around her believed that Ciaran was right for her, at least to a certain extent, why couldn’t she shake off this feeling? She had been too distracted by the thought of what had happened in the gallery—how would she know if Ciaran was the right man for her?

There was no other way except marriage.

Soon, she would know if she had made the right choice. Or if lightning did in fact strike twice in the same spot.