Page 7 of The Highlander’s Auctioned Virgin (Auctioned Highland Brides #3)

Elinor stared at her reflection in the lake. She slowly dipped her hand in the water, watching the ripples move across the lake and finally disappear ahead of her.

The water was cool around her hand, and she could swear she saw a frog leap away from her. The moon hung high in the sky, unhindered by clouds. It cast a silvery light over the trees around her, giving them somewhat creepy shadows that stretched across the soft soil.

Normally, she would be terrified, extremely scared out of her mind, but she knew this place. This was where she came whenever she wanted to escape, even if for a while.

Ever since Murdock died, she had grown more accustomed to this part of the woods, and when she was organizing the challenges, she had thought this would be a great place to hide. Aside from Thomas and Katherine, no one else knew where she was, and she preferred it to remain that way.

Here, she could easily hide from the lairds. And this spot would be harder to find, especially at night. She knew what she was doing, and she knew it well. At least here, she would be away from them and able to focus on herself at least for a while.

Her mind flashed back to the state she had found Ciaran in earlier this evening.

He was right. Sending him away without letting him participate in the challenges would lead to war, and while she probably had three times his men, she didn’t want to risk their lives by battling the Hound for a petty reason.

Yet a part of her hated the way he had pointed that out. She hated how he was able to read her mind and understand what was going on in her head. She hated the fact that she had let him distract her with his body.

His body.

She dug her feet into the lakebed, feeling the cold rush up her limbs. She closed her eyes, listening intently to the sound of the nearby crickets and the low whistle of the cold night air. This was relaxing.

When the lairds failed to find her, she would leave. Now, that would wrap up this whole ordeal rather swiftly.

She must not have noticed the change in the weather. She must not have noticed the smell of incoming rain, but the next thing she heard was the rumble of thunder overhead.

She froze, her feet still in the lake.

Nay.

She could not go back. Not yet, and especially not now. Not when she still had to determine who would get close enough. This was about her future; some measly little storm was not going to stop her from claiming what was hers.

Thunder rumbled overhead again.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered to herself, her shock beginning to settle. “Is anyone out there?!” she called out loudly. “Can anyone hear me?!”

Silence greeted her, and a loud groan escaped her lips. This was not happening to her now. Not today of all days. Thunder, like a blade, cracked the sky and released its contents. The water poured in torrents .

“Is every single laird out there deaf?!” she yelled and moved out of the lake.

She hurried towards a tree and leaned back against it, but it did little to protect her. She got drenched anyway.

“That was a stupid trial,” a voice suddenly called behind her, gentle yet frustratingly familiar.

Nay. Nae him.

She slowly turned around to face him. He was looking at her through a gap in the branches, his hair clinging to his head. The rain seemed not to affect him as he stood there and let his body be pelted.

“I apologize. I meant to say, that was a stupid trial, M’Lady,” he repeated, the snark in his voice unmistakable.

“It was ye who found me?” Elinor huffed, disbelief heightening the cold that had seeped into her body.

“Do ye see anyone else here?” he asked, mild annoyance bleeding into his voice. “Are ye hurt?”

Elinor shook her head.

“Come, let us get out of here.”

He held out his hand, and she took it, despite every part of her urging and screaming at her to run the other way. His grip was tight on her hand as he led her away from the tree and the lake while the rain continued to fall in torrents.

“Of course it had to be the damn Hound who found me.”

“Did ye say something?” Ciaran asked, looking back at her.

“Nay,” Elinor muttered.

“Ye should be grateful that hounds are loyal,” he said, steering onto the main road.

The moon had been completely swallowed by the dark clouds, so they had to depend solely on their senses and memory.

“So ye did hear me,” she scoffed. “Did ye also hear me when I screamed?”

“Aye. Ye should consider yerself incredibly lucky. All the other lairds have left long ago,” Ciaran grunted as they passed a narrow stream.

“They cannae leave. Nae in this awful weather. Ye probably couldnae find their horses because they refused to take the narrow path.”

Ciaran stopped, and she did the same. She watched him scan their surroundings, at least as much as he could see of them. Then, he turned to her and, without speaking another word, reached down and scooped her up into his arms.

“Whoa!” Elinor yelped as he adjusted her between his arms and chest. “What are ye doing?”

“Saving ye,” Ciaran responded sharply.

She didn’t resist. The rain and the cold had drowned every protest she might have had in her.

Ciaran resumed walking, this time taking the path ahead. Lightning flashed across the sky, and in that brief half-second, he spotted what looked like a cottage or a rusted cabin through the trees. He began walking towards it, his arms tightening around Elinor.

“Ye ken, I set up this challenge to find the least cruel laird amongst ye lot.”

His eyes flicked down to her. “And who said villains daenae do everything better?”

Elinor felt a flush creep up her face. Even the chill in the air could not stop the heat she felt in her cheeks.

“We should stay in the cottage ahead until the rain stops. We cannae go back to the castle. Nae yet. The roads are too slippery,” Ciaran said.

Elinor nodded gently. “I agree. The roads can be quite treacherous in this weather.”

Ciaran nodded and quickened his steps. Lightning flashed across the sky once more, briefly illuminating the rest of the path. He could see it clearly now. It was a cabin, not a cottage.

“Ye might be thinking that the trials arenae particularly the best idea I’ve come up with.”

“I’m only grateful ye took it out of me mouth,” Ciaran huffed as they neared the cabin.

“But that is what ye think?”

“Ye could have done this another way. Ye could have learned more about the lairds and how they run their clans, especially during war. The way they take care of their people would have told ye far more about them than any series of tests ever could.”

Elinor nodded. “I suppose. But at least this way, the lairds I daenae like would hopefully get killed by these trees and the animals that lurk between them. That way, I willnae even have to apologize.”

Ciaran laughed as they stopped at the entrance of the cabin. Then and only then did he lower her to her feet.

“Ye daenae have to worry about that. I can protect ye from the other lairds.”

“But ye want yer heir first. I’ve heard it all,” she declared.

That was what most of the lairds wanted, and she was certain Ciaran wasn’t any different.

“Huh?” Ciaran asked, looking into her bright blue eyes intently.

“Ye can protect me from the other lairds, but in return, I must give ye an heir.”

“Nay,” he uttered, shaking his head. “I just want to find me people first. The heir can come later. Much later.”

Elinor frowned.

Without waiting, he moved forward and knocked gently on the door.

“There is nay one inside,” she muttered quickly, before moving to the door and kicking it open.

“How did ye ken there was nay one in here?” Ciaran asked once they stepped inside.

The smell of dry timber greeted them, a welcome distraction from the smell of wet leaves and mud they had to trudge through for the past twenty minutes.

“How did ye ken there was a cabin here in the first place?” Elinor asked back.

“I saw it when the lightning– ”

“Dinnae take me for a fool, Ciaran. Ye didnae carry me all the way here just on a hunch that a cabin might be empty. How did ye ken there was a cabin here?”

Ciaran walked further inside and closed the door behind him, muffling the sound of the driving rain.

“I scouted the area when I first arrived. I kenned there was a cabin here, but I didnae ken if it was empty. All I kenned was that it looked safe enough to hide when necessary,” he admitted.

“Ye mean, if necessary?”

“In me experience, events that involve many lairds always turn into a disaster. It only takes one disgruntled laird who didnae get the woman to cause trouble.”

Elinor considered his words, but she was unable to suppress the shivers as the cold seeped into her bones.

The cabin was clean. The furniture seemed well-maintained, the floor was tidy, and the bed at the corner of the room was made and had what looked like a neatly folded white towel on it. A lit candle stood on a nearby side table, and Ciaran reached for it.

“It belonged to me former husband. The cabin.”

“I see.”

“I have never been in here before. Especially since he died.”

Ciaran moved around the room, using the candle to light up the other ones. Then, he proceeded to stoke a fire in the grate.

“So what? His ghost haunts the cabin and tidies up the floors and the bed?”

“That must be the caretaker’s doing. Simon,” Elinor explained. “He was Murdock’s servant and was always tasked with cleaning the cabin. Whenever Murdock came here and found even the tiniest speck of dust, he would ask the guards to flog him. A hundred lashes.”

Ciaran winced.

“I suppose even after his death, Simon got used to cleaning the cabin and making sure nothing was out of place.”

“And where is Simon now?” he asked, his eyes narrowed.

“He’s in the castle,” Elinor responded. “I gave him a room after Murdock died. I daenae want him living out here on his own.”

“Understandable,” Ciaran conceded as he cast his gaze around the room once more.

“What about ye, Laird MacTraigh?” Elinor asked, looking straight at him. “How do ye treat yer people?”

Ciaran looked down. “With the respect they deserve for trusting me to lead them.”

Elinor laughed. “Did ye rehearse that?”

“Ye cannae rehearse the truth.”

Elinor nodded, visibly impressed.

She hated to admit it, but the Hound didn’t seem like her worst choice at the moment.