Page 27 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

The hall smelled of fruits and meat.

The hair on the back of Ciaran’s neck had stood on end since he got into the village and hadn’t gone down since then. He still believed there was trouble afoot, but for some reason, he couldn’t exactly pinpoint where it was coming from.

Elinor sat beside him, her eyes fixed on the crowd in the middle of the hall.

This felt surreal to him, her seeing where he came from, the people he intended to lead.

These folks did not care that he was the Hound.

That or they couldn’t be bothered to stay for a second more under his brother’s thumb.

Whichever it was, it was daunting to know that everyone in the hall—right down to the youngest child scurrying around, their hands sticky with honey—looked up to him.

The weight of such a responsibility made him shudder for the briefest of moments.

“If yer braither isnae dead,” Elinor started, her voice clear as she turned to him, “then I assume ye both had some kind of falling out?”

Ciaran let out a slow breath and rubbed his face. He was sure she could see the uncertainty on his face.

“We are getting married in a few days,” she reminded him in a firm voice.

The music from the bagpipes in the far corner filled the air, adding more life to the atmosphere.

Ciaran leaned back in his chair. “All me life, I have been under me braither’s thumb.”

Elinor arched a questioning eyebrow.

“Logan raised me because I was only a bairn when our parents died. I admired him a lot. Ye have nay idea. I loved what he stood for. How people all around respected and worshipped him. He was greatly admired, and a part of me was glad that I was related to him, ye ken.”

He swallowed and took a deep breath.

“Because I admired him so much, I never wanted to disappoint him. So I did everything he asked of me. If he wanted me to send a message, I would do it. He wanted me to track a man and investigate something? I wouldnae hesitate. I loved him too much to do that.”

Elinor nodded. “In me experience, love and adoration like this are often one-sided. I am guessing he didnae return the affection ye had for him?”

“Aye. He didnae see me as his little braither,” Ciaran said, the bagpipes in the background accentuating the hurt in his voice.

“Just as someone who could do his bidding. Someone who was always at his beck and call. And I was. I did everything he wanted because I didnae want to disappoint him. When I was little, he once told me that he didnae want to ever hear me voice unless it was absolutely necessary.”

Elinor’s heart hurt for him. She gave him a sympathetic look. “Is that why ye rarely speak?”

Ciaran narrowed his eyes at her. “What do ye mean? I speak.”

“Nae as much as ye should,” she countered. “And now I understand why. Was that what happened? Did ye suddenly realize that ye were slaving for Logan and getting nothing from him in return?”

“His approval was enough for me. He didnae speak harsh words to me whenever I did anything well. That was enough. At least it felt enough. Because of Logan, I learned to track a target and kill it. I learned how to sniff out a man who doesnae want to be found. I could find anyone, nay matter how far or near they were.”

“Hence the name.”

“Aye. Nae me first choice, but it stuck.”

Elinor shifted in her seat. “Did he give ye that name?”

“More or less. It was what he called me. Never me real name,” Ciaran replied, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“Ye see, I believed me braither was doing the right thing. I believed anyone Logan wanted dead truly deserved to die because they were wrong. So I followed his orders blindly. I killed them and put them out of his way. I only realized the wrongness of it when one day he asked me to kill a laird.”

“He asked ye to kill a laird?” Elinor squeaked.

“Aye. Ye must ken, though. I killed terrible lairds before. It wasnae the first time. And of course, I was prepared to do what he wanted because he was me braither at the end of the day. I thought this laird must have done something terrible. But then I found out that Logan wanted him dead because he was sleeping with the laird’s wife. ”

Elinor’s eyes widened.

“Logan wanted to have her all to himself, so he asked me to kill her husband. He was David without the repentance.”

“Did ye find out before or after killing the laird?”

“After.” His tone was crisp, but the regret underneath was immense.

He could feel it dragging him to the ground like an unseen force.

A well of guilt pulling him below. “And I shall carry that with me for as long as I live. But I told him enough after that. I should have killed him on the spot when I found out, but I didnae.”

“He was yer braither at the end of the day.”

“Nay, ye daenae understand. I should have killed him. What he did was appalling. I should’ve driven a dagger straight into his heart.

But I couldnae bring meself to do it because he still had a hold over me.

So I left instead. Told him I wouldnae be bound by his rules any longer.

I expected his anger. But what I didnae predict was half the clan leaving with me. ”

“I cannae imagine how angry that must have made him.”

“Oh, ye cannae,” Ciaran scoffed. “But I must admit, it was so satisfying to realize that half the clan hated him as much as I did at that moment. So I walked out and never looked back. Then, I realized we needed a place to stay. We’ve been moving from one place to another for the past month.

Then, I heard about an auction happening and thought there could be a way. ”

Elinor laughed for what must have been the first time since they settled in the hall. “Ye thought the auction could be the solution to yer problems.”

“Aye,” he uttered.

“That was quite a lofty dream, Laird MacTraigh,” she teased.

Ciaran shrugged. “Well, it worked out in the end, did it nae?”

“I suppose,” Elinor relented, her voice calm.

The pipers continued playing, their haunting music providing the perfect melancholy for his story.

Ciaran couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking at that moment. What was going through her head. A part of him wondered if she would be able to rid him of his troubles if they did get married.

Out of the corner of his eye, against the light that filtered in through the entrance, he saw a man stepping towards them.

He felt it before he even twisted around—the hostility in the air. Or perhaps he was being overly dramatic.

“Greetings, M’Laird,” the man said in a gravelly voice.

Ciaran fully turned to him.

The man’s face was not familiar. Ciaran did not know all the members of his clan, but he was familiar with most.

He did not recognize this man. He had glossy red hair, and the smile playing on his lips bordered on predatory.

“M’Lady. Greetings to ye as well,” the man added, his eyes fixed on Elinor.

Ciaran’s eyes flicked to her, and he noticed the polite smile on her face. The brief nod she gave the man. The warmth in her voice when she responded, “Greetings to ye, Sir.”

For some reason, his ears started ringing. Like he was being threatened. And for some reason, he couldn’t take any of it.

Elinor’s warm reception must have emboldened the man because he moved forward, his smile turning into a wide grin.

“‘Tis such lovely music, is it nae?” he asked, his eyes darting between Elinor and Ciaran, almost like he didn’t know which one to look at.

Ciaran could tell he couldn’t look at Elinor because Ciaran’s piercing gaze would burn holes in the back of his head. He couldn’t exactly look at Ciaran either because he would burn holes in the man’s eyes if he could.

“I was wondering if ye would do me the honor of dancing with me.”

“Oh, ye’re too kind. I have nothing to do at the moment, so I suppose I could,” Elinor responded.

Her words landed on Ciaran’s heart like a rock that had rolled off a cliff.

She isnae serious, is she? Would she really dance with this fool?

The answer to that question came as Elinor pushed her chair back and stood up.

Ciaran looked back at the man and fixed him with the coldest glare he could muster, filled with warning.

The man seemed to catch on almost immediately.

“Uh– ” He cleared his throat as Elinor stared at him expectantly. “Ye ken, I am nae exactly in the mood to dance anymore.”

Ciaran caught the mild frown on her face before the man did.

“Why?” she asked, her voice soft.

Even in her confusion, she managed to be polite.

“Nay particular reason. I think ye should dance with Laird MacTraigh instead. I shall get out of yer way.”

“But Sir,” Elinor called as the man made his way back into the crowd. “Sir, wait– ”

Ciaran smiled.

I suppose he is nae a fool, after all. Smart man.

“What did ye do?” Her voice broke into his thoughts, jarring him.

Ciaran’s eyes snapped up to her. “What did I do?” he asked, lifting his hand to his chest in mock shock. “He’s the one who lost his confidence when ye stood up.”

“And how exactly did he lose it? Because ye willnae stop glaring at him. Ye scared the man off so bad. Now, I cannae dance with anyone.”

He shifted in his seat, feeling a pang in his heart upon seeing the frustration on her face. “Ye can dance with me.”

“Please,” Elinor scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Ye have refused to stand less than four feet away from me. How will ye ask me to dance?”

Ciaran’s lips curled into a smirk, and he rose to his feet. At that moment, the pipers started playing a jaunty tune. The smell of ale and chicken hung enticingly in the air . Ciaran watched the maids bring in the platters, steam rising from the glistening chicken skin.

He held out his hand to Elinor, his palm open. “Like this,” he replied. “Lady MacAdair, would ye like to dance with me?”

Elinor stared at his hand for a long minute, then looked up at him.

“Might as well,” he urged.