Page 23 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

Cold water always did the trick.

Whenever he was thinking too hard about something or felt trapped in thoughts that made his head pound, and he needed to relax, even if a little bit, he would always turn to cold water, and it seemed to always work just fine.

Today, unfortunately, was different. He couldn’t help it, no matter how hard he tried. He’d been thinking about what happened in the gallery with Elinor before falling asleep and had woken up many times throughout the night because his arousal wouldn’t let him rest.

He could not stop grinding his hard length against the mattress for most of the night, and it took everything he had not to go all the way and seek relief with his hands. He would not do that. Not until it became utterly unbearable.

He did not see her after the gallery for the whole of yesterday.

Jenny, her closest maid, had informed him that she had gone to the market with her sister and the healer to shop for a wedding dress.

A part of him had laughed at the thought of seeing her, flushed cheeks and all, looking for the perfect dress that would properly highlight the very essence of the upcoming wedding.

Now, he was in the bathtub, and his thoughts had finally settled. At least most of them. His nerves had eased, and he felt a sense of calm sweep through his body.

But nothing helped the heat that continued to rage between his legs. Even submerged in cold water, his length continued to pulsate. He could not think about Elinor for a mere five minutes without growing hard.

He grabbed a few bathing oils near the tub and smeared some on his palm. He must find a way to properly relax. He couldn’t let this happen all the time. What would he do if he grew hard in public?

He needed to take care of it. That much was evident.

He wrapped his hand around his length, the warmth of his palm like a bolt of lightning.

The heat was unbearable. The cold water lapped at him, ripples floating back and forth as he twisted his hand around the base and slid it back up to the head. He did it a few more times, his rhythm slow, his head lolling back against the edge of the tub.

Her body flashed in his mind’s eye, and he didn’t even have to summon her.

There she was, half-naked, like the previous day in the gallery, her face contorted in bliss as he pumped his fingers inside her.

He could still feel the heat from when she grabbed his wrist while he continued to work his fingers inside her.

The water sloshed around him now as he found a steady rhythm that made him breathless, his chest heaving above the surface. His body had begun to tighten. He was close.

He squeezed his length once and pumped it quicker. One more minute. One more?—

A knock sounded at the door, and the thoughts in his head halted. So did the action under the water.

He paused to slow his breathing.

“Who is it?” he managed to ask, the hitch in his voice betraying his persistent arousal.

“‘Tis Thomas, M’Laird,” a voice called back.

Ciaran groaned and threw his head back, letting his body sink fully beneath the water for a few seconds. Then, he stepped out.

Water rolled down his legs and followed him out of the bathing chamber and into his bedroom. He slipped into a pair of dark trousers, grateful that his arousal had abated slightly, then walked to the door and pulled it open.

“Thomas,” he greeted, before stepping back and heading to the rack by the fireplace. The young man-at-arms followed, a rather excited grin on his face. “‘Tis a lovely morning, is it nae?” he asked, grabbing a towel.

“Aye,” Thomas replied, his voice soft. “I suppose it is. Yer wedding draws closer with each passing day.”

“What can I say? I’m marrying the lady of the castle.”

“Ye’re also marrying one of the most resilient women I—and possibly ye—have ever met.”

“Oh, I am beginning to realize that with each passing day. Trust me,” Ciaran admitted, his voice clear. He then turned to Thomas, who stood in the middle of the room, with the same grin on his face. “Is there something ye wanted to tell me?”

Almost like he had been under a spell and Ciaran’s words broke it, Thomas gasped and pulled a scroll out of his belt .

“I came to give ye this missive. It was delivered a few minutes ago,” he said, handing him the scroll.

“What does it say?” Ciaran asked, taking it.

“I daenae ken. I didnae read it.”

A smirk crept onto his lips as he looked back up at Thomas.

Thomas narrowed his eyes, and Ciaran watched as the realization dawned on him.

“That was a test, was it nae?”

Ciaran didn’t respond. He only unfolded the scroll. It was a letter. He read through it quickly, absorbing each word.

“‘Tis from me people,” he revealed. “They’re settling in the village I had picked for them.”

“Oh.” Thomas’s eyebrows rose. “That is great, is it nae?”

“Aye,” Ciaran muttered and refolded the scroll. “Thank ye for delivering this, Thomas.”

“Oh well.” Thomas shrugged, a grin stretching his lips. “The maid who was supposed to deliver it had an urgent matter to attend to, and I thought I could do her a favor.”

Ciaran narrowed his eyes at him. “This wouldnae be the same maid I caught ye with last night by the library, would it?”

Thomas’s widening grin told him all he needed to know.

“Alright, thank ye. Ye can leave.”

“Aye, M’Laird. She also wanted me to inform ye that breakfast will be served in a few minutes, if ye would like to join the lady in the hall.”

Ciaran nodded and watched him leave the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

He was left alone once again, his hand wrapped around the scroll. He had sent a message immediately to his people after picking the village the other night with Elinor. Now, they were making their way there.

There was only one more thing left to do.

He grabbed a white shirt and slipped into it as quickly as possible, then fastened a dagger to his waist and headed out of the room.

Breakfast in the hall wasn’t necessarily a grand affair. At least, not since Murdock’s death. But with her family visiting, Elinor had decided to make it one. The smell of toast, coffee, and turkey filled her nostrils as the maids began to serve the food.

“Murdock might have been a right bastard,” Jackson, who was sitting beside Anna, started, sucking the tip of his index finger. “But he kenned how to get proper honey.”

“I agree,” Anna spoke up. “Elinor, ye must tell me who supplies him.”

Elinor laughed. “Well, he willnae be hard to find in the marketplace. And I am afraid ye may nae get honey of this quality from him anymore. Murdock had him brought to the castle every time his honey was unsatisfactory. Then, he would order the guards to strike him.”

Anna held her breath.

“Aye. Twenty lashes. The poor man must have come here at least six times,” Elinor continued.

Jackson shook his head. “Did yer husband just torture people to get whatever he wanted? That is such a cruel way to live.”

“‘Tis why nay one truly cared about his death,” Elinor explained, her voice low but laced with satisfaction.

Before Anna could open her mouth to speak, the door swung open and Ciaran stepped in.

Anna furrowed her brow and gave her sister a surprised look. Elinor only shrugged in response.

“Laird MacTraigh.” Jackson’s voice carried across the hall as Ciaran drew closer. “I didnae ken ye would be joining us for breakfast this morning. I would have worn me good kilt.”

“I hope that is nae a problem.”

“Unless ye can see the fading tartan from above the table, I daenae see why it should be,” Jackson responded.

Ciaran laughed and finally settled into the chair across from Elinor.

The tension between them was palpable, like they were both tiptoeing around what had happened the previous day in the gallery. It was hard for Elinor to tell what he was thinking, and she didn’t know if that was a good thing.

“I suppose now would be a good time as any to inform ye that I need to travel to the Coral Plains this morning,” he started as the maid laid a plate before him.

“The Coral Plains,” Elinor repeated. It was a statement, not a question.

“Aye. Me people have started to settle there, and I thought I could pay them a visit to see how it is going.”

Elinor shifted in her seat. “Oh, that is understandable.”

“Thank ye, M’Lady.” Ciaran nodded once.

Elinor narrowed her eyes at him as he bit into his toast. His voice was too clear, too casual. Was this because of her siblings’ presence? Was that why he was trying to be casual about this?

She stole a few glances at him as Jackson droned on in the background about the state of the horses in the stables.

“Those poor beasts are practically begging to be ridden. ‘Tis such an abysmal state,” she heard him say.

But her thoughts kept straying to Ciaran. She didn’t like that he didn’t return her glances or, at the very least, acknowledge that what they had shared the previous day was precious.

Did something happen overnight? Was that why he would not even look at her? Not even one of his usual smirks to tease her?

She hated all of this.

She must find out what had happened. What had caused the sudden change in his demeanor. There was only one way she could do that.

“Ye ken what?” she blurted, cutting off her brother. “Ye’re right, Jackson.”

Jackson furrowed his brow. “I am?”

“Aye. Someone needs to take the horses out. Ye can take one for a jaunt if ye like.”

“Elinor, are ye certain?” he asked.

“More than anything,” she assured, then turned to Ciaran, her eyes gleaming. “And Laird MacTraigh can take a horse as well.”

“Ye’re very kind, M’Lady,” Ciaran offered.

“’Tis nothing,” Elinor said with a smile, “because I shall take one as well and come with ye. That way, at least three horses get their exercise of the day.”

Silence descended on the dining hall.

Ciaran looked straight at her, as if her words had ignited something within him.

“Come with me?” he asked, his voice cold.

“Aye. To greet yer people. I mean, I have to welcome the new clan.”

Elinor could tell that Anna and Jackson noticed it, the tension that crackled in the air almost immediately after the words escaped her mouth.

“I am grateful for yer concern, but I would love to do this on me own, if ye daenae mind.”

“I didnae say that ye cannae do it on yer own. I only said that I wanted to follow ye.”

Ciaran swallowed.

Elinor could see his throat bob slightly. She could also see the mild annoyance that flashed across his face.

“M’Lady, do ye mind if I speak to ye? In private, of course.”

Elinor shot Anna a tense look. “Of course. We shall go to me study.”

“Uh oh,” Jackson muttered. Anna elbowed him in the ribs.

Elinor rose to her feet, and soon Ciaran followed behind.

This ought to be good.