Page 37 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

All Elinor could hear at that moment was the ringing in her ears. Most of it was caused by the racket that had swept through the Great Hall.

This was one of the most exciting days of her life. The cold night air was beginning to properly settle in her room, and wedding guests were leaving the castle faster than she could bid them a warm goodbye.

“I daenae think anyone will be able to plan a wedding on such a scale, Lady MacAdair,” one of the lairds who attended the wedding had briefly remarked to her while she ensured the food was properly served to the guests.

“Thank ye, Laird MacIntosh. Also, T’is Lady MacTraigh now,” she had said, mentally patting herself on the back.

She remembered Jackson, patting her gently on the back as his mouth remained filled with bannocks.

“This might be the best wedding I have been to, by far.” He had stated, then leaned close to her in a whisper.

“If ye tell Anna I said this, I will kill ye with me bare hands.”

Elinor remembered laughing quite hard at his statement.

But her brother was correct. This was by far one of the best weddings that had been organized in this part of the Highlands. She was excited that someone else thought so, and at that moment, a part of her believed it was not going to end.

Now, she sat on the edge of her bed, slowly coming to terms with the fact that, like all things, this day must come to an end. She hated thinking like that but it was true. No matter how glamorous it had been, it had to end.

She sat with her hands folded in her lap, staring at the dress she had taken off mere hours ago.

Her eyes flicked to the pins and flowers that had been tucked into her hair, all now resting on the table near the wall.

The flower bouquet she had carried for most of the wedding had been flung to the other side of the room.

Her eyes shifted towards it, studying the way the petals fluttered in the draft.

All she had on, at that moment, was her nightshift, thin and smooth against her skin—a welcome sensation. A dull ache throbbed in her heel, a reminder that she had stayed on her feet for way too long. However it was the kind of pain she enjoyed.

She basked in the silence and utter serenity for what must have been half an hour before a knock sounded at the door, almost jolting her out of her skin.

She swallowed. Was it him?

“Ye can enter,” she eventually called.

The door creaked open, the piercing sound echoing her sharp inhale. Anna and Katherine appeared in the doorway.

She exhaled.

“Ye look disappointed to see us. Were ye expecting someone else?” Anna asked as she walked in.

Katherine followed and closed the door gently behind her.

“A man, perhaps?” she prompted, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

“Please,” Elinor scoffed. “That is quite scandalous. Why would I be expecting a man? It isnae like I married one today or anything.”

They all burst into laughter.

Both women sat on either side of Elinor, basking in the ensuing silence for a few minutes.

“The last of the guests has left,” Katherine muttered.

“Aye.” Anna nodded. “If I have to hear one more drunken laird complain about the dryness of the chicken, I’d pull out me hair.”

Elinor laughed slightly, feeling warmth spread through her chest. Especially now that two of the most important people in her life were with her.

Anna, as if reading her mind, took her hand and cradled it between her own.

“The morning was hard,” she admitted. “Ye ken, for a moment, I also thought he disappeared. A part of me hated him so much. I told Katherine, surely he wouldnae? Nae after he had come this far with her.” Her thumb brushed over Elinor’s knuckles. “But look how it all worked out in the end.”

Katherine nodded, her eyes sweeping over the length of the chamber, the table laid for two, the sprigs of heather tucked in the carved shelf. “It has been a long road,” she said. “Longer than most would have managed.”

Elinor rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Katherine, if ye’re now choosing to remind me that I married a killer– ”

“He did walk in this morning with blood on his clothes,” Anna interrupted.

“I ken he is going to tell me what happened when he is ready. The last thing I want to do is force him. Killing is hard enough on him already.”

“Ye think he doesnae enjoy it?”

Elinor tried to smile, but it did not hold. “I daenae think he derives pleasure from it,” she responded. “I saw him do it, and I saw it on his face. The look of regret. He doesnae like to do it.”

More silence fell between them, one laced with doubt and judgment. They did not believe her, and they were not wrong not to. That had not seen him kill Jamie, his best friend. They had not seen the look on his face right after. But she had.

A part of her knew this was all a burden to him. He just needed someone to take it away.

She thanked them both again, though for some reason, the words felt heavy in her mouth.

“We shall leave ye to it,” Katherine declared, rising to her feet.

“Aye. Nay one needs more rest than the bride on her wedding day.” Anna flashed her sister a knowing wink.

“Thank ye. Ye may leave now,” Elinor said sternly.

When they left the room, the quiet returned with a vengeance.

She remained seated for some time, her gaze fixed on the empty chair by the wall. Then, she rose to her feet and began to pace the room, her feet bare over the hard floor. She traced each spot on the floor with her toes over and over.

She paused at the window to stare at the horizon. Nothing could be seen across the courtyard except a few animals, distant lights—most likely from the stables—and the grass bowing to the evening air. She turned away from the window and pressed her hand to her mouth.

She thought of going to him. Of pushing open the door to his chamber and forcing the words out of her mouth. But she stayed where she was, caught between hope and dread.

Would she have to keep worrying whether he would disappear or not every night?

The door handle shifted at last.

He didn’t knock, she knew. It had to be him.

She turned around so fast that the hem of her nightshift caught in her heels.

Ciaran stepped in, the door closing behind him without a soft click. His hair was damp, curling at his temples. His shirt hung loose at the collar, the edge of a fresh bandage peeking above the linen.

She lifted her chin. “I thought ye would come sooner.”

He did not answer.

His gaze roved over her face, steady but too far away. She did not let that discourage her. Instead, she took a step closer.

The green in his eyes reflected the brightness of the candlelight, and his skin gleamed like satin.

“We need to speak,” she added, her voice quieter now. “About today. About what comes next.”

He stood silent.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I wondered if— if we might review the terms of our marriage. Ye ken. About children.”

Ciaran narrowed his eyes at her. “Ye daenae think I changed me mind now, do ye? I daenae want children. Nay child deserves to grow up with the Hound as his faither.”

Elinor shuffled her feet. “It doesnae have to be as it was. Ye daenae have to carry the guilt all by yerself. We could become a family A real one.”

Ciaran did not respond. A part of her had expected this, yet watching it play out did not make it any easier.

Her breath came shorter. “Ye said ye would keep me safe. Giving ye a child— yer child — will keep me safe.”

“I daenae want a child,” he repeated. “I cannae do it. And before the wedding, I thought ye agreed as well.”

“Aye. Because I thought I wouldnae want a child either. And then I thought ye might change yer mind.”

At that point, his hand rose, his calloused fingertips brushing her cheek. The touch was so light that she felt it more as warmth than pressure.

She held his wrist. “Please,” she whispered. “Think about it.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to her temple. The kiss was soft but firm at the same time. She did not say anything or react. When he stepped back, her hand fell back to her side.

“Ciaran…” she trailed off.

“Today has been incredibly stressful. Ye need to rest.”

He turned towards the door, his boots quiet across the floor. Not once did he pause to look back. Elinor watched him pull the door open and step out of the room, half expecting a statement to leave his lips.

It did not.

The door closed behind him with a dull click instead, and she stood there, the cold crawling up her arms.

After a while, she returned to the bed and sat on the edge, still feeling where his hands had touched her cheek and his lips her temple.