Page 26 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

Their horses slowed down as they entered the village square. Elinor’s eyes searched their surroundings. There wasn’t much to see.

Until today, the Coral Plains had been nothing but a spot on the endless maps in Murdock’s library. The ones she had to study over the past few years because there was nothing else to do.

Her escapism was in those maps, in the fact that there was another world out there. One that was far better than the hell she had to face every day.

But now that she was here, feeling the air on her face and smelling the distinct scent of smoke and wood, it all felt real to her. Way too real.

Most of the floors were dry, and the houses were shabby. People bowed to her as they both rode past. However, she noticed that they were more excited to see Ciaran and showed more enthusiasm in their greetings.

“Ye’re a leader on yer turf,” Ciaran murmured when she raised this point to him. “This is mine.”

Elinor looked around anyway, unsettled by how empty the village felt. The marketplace was not as lively as the ones she was used to. Pigeons flew past, their dark wings a stark contrast to the bright afternoon sky.

“There is someone I would like ye to meet,” Ciaran added as they proceeded down the path, taking the lead once again.

Elinor rode past a woman huddled with a little girl in the corner of one of the stalls. The woman was feeding what seemed to be a bannock to the child. Her eyes flicked up as their horses approached.

Elinor gave her a brief nod of understanding. The woman gave one in return and looked back down at her child as they faded out of view.

“These…” Elinor whispered. “These are all yer people?”

“Aye.” Ciaran nodded. “They’re the ones who chose to follow me.”

She could hear the mild pride in his voice.

“We can keep the horses here.” He gestured towards a tree stump.

Elinor nodded in agreement.

Soon, they both jumped down, and Elinor watched as he tethered the horses, beginning with hers.

“If ye told me this was how the Coral Plains would look, I wouldnae have believed ye. I had always imagined a babbling brook filled with life and animals. This– ” Elinor looked around. “This is quite lifeless.”

“Ye saw it on the map.” Ciaran responded.

“Aye but still. T’is nae at all what I imagined.” Elinor said, her voice coated by the drifting wind.

“M’Laird?” a voice called from the distance before Ciaran could answer.

They both turned in the direction of the voice.

A young man who could not be older than nineteen or twenty approached them, a smile in his eyes.

“Who is that?” Elinor whispered as Ciaran tethered his horse.

“That,” Ciaran responded as he pulled a hook to secure the rope, “is Fergus.”

Elinor nodded, as if that answered all her questions.

Fergus was handsome, but not in the rugged Highlander way.

He sported features that could only be found in the paintings of Michelangelo.

His curly red hair rested over his forehead like a cap, fluttering along with the wind as he approached them.

His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his movements were sharp. Precise. Filled with purpose.

God, was he so young. He looked like he should be sitting behind a desk, checking the ledgers, not wielding a sword that looked too heavy for him.

He eventually stopped before them. At that point, Ciaran had finished tethering the horses.

“Ye’re back.”

“Aye. I came to see how ye’re settling in.”

Fergus’s eyes flicked from Ciaran to Elinor, the smile lingering on his face. He studied her intently, the green in his eyes reminding her of glistening leaves in the sun.

He was young. Way too young.

“Ye must be Lady MacAdair.”

“Aye,” Elinor confirmed.

“I hear we have ye to thank for all of this.”

An amused smile crept onto her face. Who was this boy, and why was he speaking like a forty-year-old man?

“Elinor, this is Fergus, me man-at-arms.”

The revelation stunned her. She could barely stop her jaw from falling to the floor.

Fergus executed a deep bow. “A pleasure to make yer acquaintance, M’Lady.”

“ This is yer man-at-arms?” Elinor asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

“Ye’d be surprised at what he can do,” Ciaran drawled, the laughter in his voice indicating that he’d had to answer that question a thousand times before.

Elinor shook off the initial shock and collected herself. “Thank ye, Fergus. How are ye settling in, so far? I hope there hasnae been a problem?”

“Nae particularly, nay,” Fergus replied. “This is a soldier town, so there was nay altercation. Please, follow me.” He beckoned to her.

Elinor shot Ciaran a questioning look, and he nodded in response, almost like he could read her thoughts.

“Come,” he eventually said and led the way behind Fergus.

Elinor gave the horses and the tree stump one last look before stepping onto the path.

“When ye said this place is a soldier town,” she started, walking steadily behind the two men, “what did ye mean?”

“Ye see most of the houses here?” Fergus asked, gesturing around them.

Elinor had seen the houses on her way in, but when he pointed at them, she had to look at them. Really look at them. Nothing stood out about them. They looked plain and slightly shabby. A part of her wondered if they would need to rebuild most of them.

“Aside from looking like they were hurriedly built, they havenae been lived in for years. Yer late husband, M’Lady, was quite…”

A pause ensued, pregnant with the scent of wet soil.

“A right bastard.”

“A difficult man.”

They had both spoken simultaneously, and she heard Ciaran let out a low chuckle.

“He was constantly waging war against the neighboring clans. So over time, the settlers in this village died, and those who stayed alive packed up their things and left to settle in another distant village. Ultimately, only soldiers going into battle sometimes stopped by the village to take a breather before continuing their journey.”

Soldier town.

It all made sense now.

As Fergus droned on in the background, Ciaran turned to her and held out his hands. There was a hint of worry on his face. A most recent development, she was certain.

Her brow creased in surprise. “Ciaran?”

“Just come,” Ciaran urged.

Elinor didn’t hesitate. She slipped her hands into his, and he pulled her closer, her body now pressed against his as they walked. Elinor noticed his eyes frantically darting from one side of the path to the other, the odd worry on his face growing.

Fergus, who must have some kind of sixth sense, suddenly stopped before them and turned around.

“Is everything all right, M’Laird?” he asked in a low voice.

“I daenae ken. Nae yet.” Ciaran’s response was sharp. “I just feel like someone is lurking nearby. Watching us.”

Fergus chuckled. “Everyone is watching ye. They’ve been watching ye both since ye entered the village.”

“Nae like that. I mean, watching. Nae in a good way.”

“Well, every other person around here is a member of the clan.”

They waited for a while, their eyes peeled for anything that stood out of the ordinary. But they found nothing.

“I am certain ye’re only being paranoid. Just because ye’re responsible for me, doesnae mean ye have to consider everything around ye a threat.”

Ciaran said nothing. Not for a while.

Elinor cast a confused look at Fergus, who ultimately decided to break the silence.

“I suppose I nay longer have to write ye a letter about this, but there will be a cèilidh tonight.”

Elinor looked back at Ciaran, who still had a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“‘Tis to celebrate the union of the clans. Ye both have to be there.”

“Nay.” Ciaran’s response was immediate, almost harsh. “We need to be on our way tonight or at first light. The journey back to MacAdair is long and treacherous, and– ”

“M’Laird?” Fergus cut in. “This isnae just some auction—forgive me, M’Lady.”

Elinor smiled and motioned for him to continue.

“Or some tournament ye can just say nay to. Yer people are celebrating. Ye have to be there. For the first time in a while, we have something worth celebrating. I believe folks would be happy to have ye around.”

Ciaran opened his mouth to decline again, but before he could get a word out, Elinor declared, “We would be very happy to stay.”

He shot her a surprised look, one that slowly turned into a scowl.

Fergus smiled when Ciaran gave him a brief nod. “He finally found his match in ye. Good Lord,” he said, turning to Elinor. “Ye, M’Lady, might be the only woman in the world capable of taming the Hound.”

“Ye daenae have much to do with yer tongue, do ye? I am certain ye wouldnae mind me cutting it out.”

Fergus barked out a laugh. “The village’s Great Hall is still standing—thank the Lord for that—so the cèilidh would take place there. Ye should come. I am certain our folks would love to meet ye.”

“Aye, I am certain,” Elinor responded.

A little boy ran up to them in the middle of the path, panting loudly. His curious eyes scanned Elinor from top to bottom, and she smiled at him.

He moved closer to Fergus.

“What do ye want, lad?” Fergus asked, staring down at him.

The boy leaned up, as much as his height allowed him, and Fergus bent down to meet him halfway.

Elinor watched in amusement as the boy whispered in his ear. Fergus nodded, and almost as soon as he had come, the boy turned on his heel and ran away, disappearing behind the houses.

Fergus looked back at them and bowed again. “I am afraid this is where I must leave ye. I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Ye have been a most gracious guide, Fergus,” Elinor praised.

Fergus gave her a brief nod and retreated down the path, leaving them alone, watching people walk past.

The sun had begun to dip towards the horizon. Dusk would fall before they knew it.

“I think we should look for a place to sleep, should we nae?” Elinor asked, her arms folded over her chest as she looked around.

This was only the first day—or the second, she couldn’t tell—but she knew it would only get better from here.

“Fergus will take care of that, ye daenae have to worry,” Ciaran assured her.

She watched him again, suspicion creeping back into his eyes.

“Ye daenae have to worry about anything, Ciaran. Ye’re amid yer people. They all adore ye. I daenae think anyone out here is trying to cause ye any harm.”

“When ye’ve been a man like me for long enough, it becomes harder to tell who wants to kill ye and who doesnae,” Ciaran muttered.

“Well, let us find a place to rest before the cèilidh starts, shall we?”

Elinor’s grip tightened on his hand, and she tugged him forward, steering them away from the path.

She turned again to look at him.

The suspicion never left his face.