Page 40 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

“Damn it!” Elinor groaned, feeling her hands slide across the canvas before her.

This was the third mistake she had made while only trying to paint the view outside the window. She stared at the painting, at what was supposed to be a simple forest with trees lining each path. Instead, it looked like a blob of brown paint with other blobs of green paint on both sides.

She wondered what Jackson would say if he were here.

“Ye should leave the painting to the talented one in the family.”

She could almost hear his voice, heavy with sarcasm, in the back of her mind. It was what he had said the morning she painted flowers on their father’s forehead while he was asleep.

A part of her wondered if he would have made excellent company if he were still here and had not gone back home right after the wedding.

She lifted the paintbrush again, determined to salvage the disaster before her. She just needed to stretch out the blobs a little more. A thin line here and a thin line there, and she would turn this painting into a masterpiece. It would be far from perfect, but she would still?—

Her hand slid off the canvas again, interrupting her thoughts. A mild groan escaped her lips, and in her frustration, she flung the paintbrush towards the fireplace. The fire was out, so it did not burn, but the impact sent a cloud of ash into the chimney.

She stared at the painting before her and gently ran her hand across the blobs, feeling the cold paint graze her fingers.

The silence in the cabin felt heavier than it usually was.

Perhaps she was the one thinking that. It should be a good thing, anyway. But for some reason, it wasn’t. She had come here to clear her mind and relax, but the eerie silence only made the thoughts in her head grow louder.

Her gaze strayed to the spot right before the fireplace. She remembered sitting there with Ciaran, the fire warm on her back as they played Nine Men’s Morris. She remembered the amusement on his face right after she had won a round and knew it was her turn to ask him a question.

She could almost feel his lips on hers as the memory of him pinned her to the wall flashed through her mind. She pressed her fingers to her mouth. Coming to this cabin might’ve been a bad idea.

“Ye’ve been through worse, girl,” she whispered to herself. “Just breathe.”

She tried to follow her advice, but it did not help

She rose and crossed to the other side of the room, intending to grab one of the rags hanging on the rack to wipe her hands. Before she reached it, however, she heard the doorknob shift. She turned just as the door swung open.

Ciaran stood on the threshold. His hair was damp from the ride, and his eyes were full of emotions she couldn’t decipher no matter how hard she tried.

He did not step inside immediately.

“Ye shouldnae have come,” she said in a monotone.

“I had to.”

Her throat closed up, and she swallowed. “Why?”

He stepped towards her slowly, as if she might disappear if he took his eyes off her.

Elinor did not move an inch but watched him closely. When he reached the middle of the room, he stopped.

“The reason I have been this cold towards ye…” he trailed off, his voice soft.

He cleared his throat, and Elinor watched his throat bob. Whatever he had to say must have been very difficult.

“It was Logan,” he continued, his voice quavering a bit. “The man I killed on the morning of our wedding day… it was him.”

Elinor shuffled her legs, a wave of heartbreak crashing over her.

“I– ” The words died in her throat.

Ciaran continued speaking anyway, as if this was the only chance he would get to say these words. “Ye ken it was him who raised me after our parents died. I thought he was everything a man should be. Strong. Certain. A leader, by all standards. I didnae see what he truly was until it was too late.”

Elinor stayed silent.

“He made me into something I hate,” Ciaran forced out.

His voice was firm, but she could still hear the pain behind it.

“A weapon he could aim wherever he pleased. And when he was gone, I kept thinking it was only a matter of time before I turned into him. That if I let meself want too much, it would break me. And it would break ye, too.”

He took a deep breath, though it sounded more like a hiccup.

Elinor continued to listen, certain he would stop talking if she opened her mouth.

“I pulled away because I thought it would keep ye safe. Because I thought it was the only thing I could do right. Protect ye.”

Her hands balled into fists. “Ciaran, I love ye,” she confessed, her voice wavering. “But I willnae live out me days under the constant shadow of yer fear. I willnae wake up wondering if ye’ll shut me out when another enemy of yers shows up. Ye’re a feared man, so I assume ye have many.”

She swallowed, deliberately breaking her words.

“I cannae spend the rest of me days wondering if ye’ll run from me because it is easier than believing ye deserve joy, just like any other man.”

He looked up at her then, and for the first time, his green eyes were clear, no longer shadowed or guarded.

“I daenae want to be the Hound anymore,” he said finally. “I am tired of being known as one thing.”

Her throat closed around the ache she felt in her chest, and she took a step closer. “Then daenae . Ye can be me husband. Ye can just be me husband.”

“I daenae ken how,” he said, his voice soft.

Her hand rose to his cheek. He leaned into her palm, his eyes fluttering shut. “We’ll learn it together.”

He opened his eyes, and they let the silence linger for a while. Then, he leaned in and sealed his lips over hers. The kiss was tender and passionate, like it was their own way of ending the conflict.

Except it hadn’t fully ended. Elinor realized that halfway and pulled away, catching her breath.

“There is one more thing,” she murmured.

Ciaran arched a curious eyebrow.

“I thought the agreement was enough,” she began, her voice low. “But it isnae. I want to be a maither, Ciaran. I want to carry yer child. I want us to build something better than what either of us was given. I want a bright future for both of us. For our clans.”

His hand came up to cover hers, and his thumb gently brushed her knuckles.

“I’ll give ye anything ye want,” he vowed fervently. “Everything. I love ye. God help me, Elinor, I love ye.”

She let out a small laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Took ye long enough to admit it.”

His mouth curved up in a smile. “I was always a stubborn bastard.”

“Aye,” she uttered, smiling through her tears. “But ye’re me stubborn bastard.”

He laughed and leaned in again. Their lips met.

The kiss deepened quickly. Ciaran’s lips moved against hers passionately, almost stealing her breath away, while he slowly backed her up against the wall. His hands roamed down the back of her dress and tugged the laces open with quick, certain movements.

Elinor tried to catch her breath when he broke the kiss and took one look at her, but he resumed the kiss almost immediately. Her lips pulsed as he slowly pushed her dress down her body and watched it pool around her feet.

He pulled her shift over her head and tossed it to the side. The cold air in the cabin nipped her skin for the briefest second, but the growing heat inside her chased it away almost immediately.

He took a step back, his gaze darkening with each passing second.

“Look at me.” His voice was low but laced with authority.

Elinor kept her eyes on him as he yanked his shirt over his head. His chest glistened with sweat, broad, solid, and slightly dusted with dark hair. Her eyes drank in the view, and she felt her nipples stiffen slightly in the cool air.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop staring at him.

Ciaran moved closer, wrapped his arm around her waist, and lifted her effortlessly, before carrying her to the bed.

Her heart pounded hard in her chest, almost threatening to escape, as he laid her on the bed and knelt before her.

Goosebumps broke out all over her skin as he gripped her thigh and spread them open.

“Dinnae take yer eyes off me. Am I understood?” he commanded, a purr in his voice.

Before Elinor could respond, he slid his fingers inside her. A gasp escaped her lips, and her hips bucked against him. She threw her head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“Eyes on me,” he breathed.

Elinor shifted her gaze back to him, growing overwhelmed as he withdrew his fingers and drew circles around the nub at the apex of her sex.

He was slow at first, teasing it and grazing it slightly.

Then, he pushed back two fingers inside her.

Her back arched off the bed as he curled them up and pressed against that sensitive spot.

“Ciaran.” His name escaped her lips in a gasp.

“Keep yer eyes open,” he ordered, his voice thick with arousal.

His fingers continued to thrust in and out of her steadily. Then, he leaned down, pure heat in his eyes, and closed his mouth around her breast, sucking hard enough to make the words die in her throat. His fingers thrust and pressed into her harder before he stopped.

Elinor’s vision swam in the silence that followed.

Ciaran climbed off the bed and pushed his trousers down his legs before kicking them off. His arousal stood thick and hard, dark at the tip. She swallowed, her body already quivering with anticipation.

He climbed back on the bed and gripped himself, guiding the head to her slick entrance.

“Ye’re me wife, Elinor,” he whispered. “Ye will always be me wife.”

He pushed inside her in one slow, heavy thrust. She cried out, her hands gripping his forearms tightly. He was big enough to stretch her almost to the point of pain, but she didn’t want him to stop.

He pulled out and sank into her again, harder this time. The bed creaked under them. He set a steady rhythm, every thrust deep enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

“Look at me,” he urged.

She did, and he drove deeper into her. It was raw and all-consuming, nothing gentle about the way he pinned her down with one hand on her hip. She felt her release building slowly, coiling in her belly.

Ciaran hissed through his teeth when her walls clenched around him.

And then she climaxed. Heat rushed through her, and she felt the pressure, much like goosebumps, travel down her limbs right to her curled toes. Her nails dug into his forearms and then his back, drawing red lines across his skin.

He thrust into her a few more times and then buried himself deep inside her. A low groan escaped his lips, and he curled his hands tight around the pillow above her head. He trembled against her for a moment before collapsing on top of her.

They remained in that position for a while. Then, Ciaran looked up, the green in his eyes just as bright as the first day she had met him.

“I love ye, Elinor,” he said, his voice soft, calmer than it had been mere minutes ago.

Elinor cupped his cheeks, returning his smile. “I love ye, too.”

At that moment, in the middle of the cabin, she felt nothing but blissful peace, and she knew, from the utter contentment on his face, that he felt just the same.