Page 38 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

Ciaran ran through the trees, the dark pressing around him so close that it felt like a living thing.

The branches caught in his hair and whipped at his arms, leaving thin cuts on his skin that burned with the evening cold.

The ground beneath his boots was slick with mud and littered with dead leaves.

He did not know where he was running to, but he knew that stopping would kill him, especially if the man in pursuit managed to catch up to him.

The man behind him kept running, but not as hard as he did. He had some kind of confidence in his steps. Something that let Ciaran know that there was no escape. That he could not outrun this.

He could not outrun him.

His lungs burned as he ran and tried to look over his shoulder. But he couldn’t see anything. The darkness of the night blurred all shapes. He was not quick to turn his head back, and when he did, it was too late.

He stumbled over a root hidden beneath the shrubs, and his knees fell first, crashing into the ground. He inhaled sharply as the shock reverberated through his thighs. He pushed himself up, but his legs refused to carry him. He fell one more time, his palms slapping into the wet soil.

He couldn’t escape it.

A hand gripped the back of his neck before he could think and lifted him like he was a bag of feathers. Like he weighed nothing.

His feet dragged across the mud, and he tried to wrench himself free, but the fingers only tightened. The darkness eased just a little, in time for him to make out the face of the man dragging him back.

His breath caught as Logan’s face came into view, his eyes darker than the empty sky.

“Ye can run,” Logan whispered, his breath stinking of blood. “Run all ye like.”

Then, he shoved him into the soil.

Ciaran coughed, trying to pull in as much air as possible as Logan stood above him, his sword raised. Just like he had done.

“Ye’re a weapon, Ciaran,” Logan said, and for some reason, his voice seemed to carry through the room. “Ye’ll never stop being a weapon. Ye’ll never stop being the Hound.”

The sword came down, and darkness followed.

And then Ciaran’s eyes snapped open.

He woke up with a tortured sound in his throat, his bed creaking under him. His body was slick with sweat that had seeped into his nightshirt. He panted hard, looking around the room, his hands balled into fists.

A nightmare. He hadn’t had one of those in a very long time.

He looked out the window. The day was only beginning to break, and a thin sliver of light streaked across the mountains on the horizon. He pressed both palms to his chest, feeling his heart kick like it wanted to escape the prison of his chest.

Before he could push himself up, the door burst open so hard that it struck the wall behind it. He swallowed, turning to it.

Elinor stepped inside, her hair still loose around her shoulders and her eyes flashing with fury. She was still wearing the nightshift he had seen the previous night before retiring to his room.

She did not give him time to rise.

“Elinor– ” he started, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I have had enough,” she cut in. Her voice was steady, yet the anger in it was sharp enough to cut glass. “Enough of ye shutting me out at every chance ye get.”

He swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the cold floor. Still, he did not speak.

“Is this about the child– ”

“Ye’re damn right, this is about the child!” she snapped.

He watched as her throat bobbed and her chest heaved.

“I got married yesterday,” she continued. “I should be happy! I should be basking in the glow of me new marriage, but I cannae. Ye ken why? Because me husband willnae even sleep in the same bed as me!”

“It isnae like that.”

“Ye think because ye carry guilt in yer heart like a wound that nay one can see it?” she pressed. “But I see it. I see what it’s doing to ye. To us. Yer guilt is why ye refuse to have a child.”

His gaze fell to the floor.

She took a step closer. “It’s why ye would rather sleep alone every night than risk becoming a faither.”

“Elinor– ”

“I want a family,” she said, her voice softening slightly.

A lump formed in Ciaran’s throat. He could hear the crack in her voice.

“I want to ken what it feels like to carry a child that is ours. I want to have a wee lad or lass run around the castle.”

He said nothing, again. He could not. He could not tell her that he had killed his brother.

Or that Logan’s words had been ringing in his ears since the previous day.

He could not tell her that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be a weapon and would be damned if he brought a child into the world as a weapon.

“Ye have to understand me decision, Elinor. I am only thinking about the bairn– ”

“Dinnae blame a child that isnae even here,” Elinor hissed. “Ye’re thinking about yerself, and that’s it.”

Ciaran pursed his lips. He could feel his blood beginning to boil. He was not angry at her, that much was certain. He was angry at himself. Angry at this conversation.

“What is it, really? Do ye think if ye have a child, he is going to grow up to be like ye?”

“I am a killer, Elinor,” he responded, feeling something tug at his throat. “A weapon.”

“Ye’re also kind and generous, among other things. I ken that. Yer people also ken that. Ye only became the Hound to serve yer braither’s selfish interests. Why can ye nae see that?”

He swallowed, the breath he drew in tasting like smoke and mud. Like it had in his nightmare.

The thought made him shudder.

“I should have kenned,” she whispered, before letting out a shaky breath. “A man who doesnae believe he deserves love will never let another person share it with him.”

The silence dug deeper between them, almost taunting.

Ciaran didn’t know what to say. No matter how hard he tried, no word would come to the tip of his tongue.

“Ye’re nae going to say anything?” she asked, the pain in her eyes almost palpable as she continued staring at him.

When nothing came forth again, she nodded.

“I want a child, Ciaran. I want to carry a child of mine in me arms. And I want the child to be yers.” Her voice was clear and sharp. Then, she took a step forward. “But I willnae stand here and beg ye for it.”

He swallowed.

“When ye decide ye can be more than the Hound,” she continued, “ye ken where to find me.”

She turned on her heel and walked out, slamming the door shut behind her so hard that the lock jumped.

Ciaran remained still, stewing in the silence. Her words rang true in his head over and over again.

“I want a child.”

He hated being the cause of her pain. He hated the fact that he feared what could come from him so much that he was letting it affect her.

Feeling like he needed an outlet, he rose to his feet, the anger that had been simmering inside him rising to a boil.

His gaze drifted to the cup on the table, and he walked towards it. He closed his hand around it before he could think, then lifted it and hurled it across the room with all the strength he could muster. It struck the far wall and shattered into a spray of clay and dust.

He remained there, watching the cloud of dust rise to the open window.

Elinor quickened her steps as she made her way back to her room. Her throat felt tight, and her chest heaved hard, as if at any moment from now, she would lose the ability to breathe properly.

The familiar walls of her room greeted her as she stepped in, and her eyes darted around. She could not believe she had let herself lose control like that.

Perhaps it was the lack of sleep. Maybe next time, she just needed to make certain that she had enough rest before confronting him. Or anyone, for that matter. She debated asking Thomas about what caused the blood on her husband’s shirt. If no one else knew, Thomas would.

She shrugged off the thought the instant it came.

“Nae now,” she whispered, almost to herself.

A knock on the door pierced the air, and her head snapped up. The door opened slowly, and Jenny walked in, her eyes wary and her head lowered slightly.

“M’Lady,” she greeted, her voice just as meek as she looked.

“Jenny, I intend to go visit the cabin for a while. I daenae want anyone to disturb me,” Elinor ordered, her voice sharp. “If anyone wants to talk to me, tell them to come back another day.”

“Alright, M’Lady,” Jenny responded, her head still lowered.

“Good. Ye may go,” Elinor muttered and watched Jenny turn around.

Soon, the maid left the room, and the door clicked shut behind her.

Elinor sighed, her eyes lingering on the door. She needed a break, and this was a certain way for her to get it.

She needed a place to think. A place away from the castle.

She rose to her feet once again.

“He kens where to find me,” she whispered to herself.

As she started to pack her clothes into her trunk, a voice in the back of her head whispered that he would.

He would find her.