Page 15 of The Highlander’s Virgin Nun (Highlanders’ Feisty Brides #2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

R osaline awoke to the sound of soft snoring, purring away as the birds started to chirp at the sight of the morning sun. She wasn’t ready to open her eyes, but she stirred, nestling further into the comfort. It was only when her cheek brushed skin, rather than linen, that she remembered where she had fallen asleep, and her eyes shot open.

Oh me goodness.

She had to fight her instincts not to leap from her resting place. Her body was wrapped in Caelan’s arms, her head resting on his muscular bicep. His body was entirely pressed against hers under the thick furs.

Rosaline immediately began to search for her clothes with her eyes and devised a plan to retrieve them without waking him, so that his sober gaze would not see her naked body.

She spotted her dress hanging from a branch in a nearby tree, her underskirt and slip beside it. It fluttered gently in the morning breeze, and she hoped the early sun had dried it for their journey home. Any worries of the fabric becoming see-through had not crept up in the dark of night, but the morning light could be a concern.

She took a deep breath to calm herself and caught Caelan’s natural morning scent. It was musky, earthy, and manly. There was a warmth to him that often emanated from kind, loving people. Rosaline hoped that her instincts about him had been right. She had given him everything now—her story, her name, her body. He had better not use it against her.

Slowly, she edged forward, bit by bit, using the silence she acquired at the convent to move without waking a soul. She extricated herself from his limbs and the furs, and when she was finally out of his grasp, she stood up. She moved quickly but still quietly to the tree and whipped her slip over her head as fast as she could. When she heard Caelan begin to stir, she decided to abandon the underskirt and go straight for the dress, which she was just finishing lacing up by the time his eyes fluttered open.

“Mornin’,” he croaked, perhaps feeling the effects of the mead from the night before.

“Good mornin’,” Rosaline replied in her most courteous tone.

She wanted to return to polite camaraderie. No lengthy conversation would be encouraged. She had too much to think about for the moment.

He sat up slowly, and the furs fell from his torso to rest at his waist. With his back slightly curved, the neat rows of his abdomen rippled into view, and the muscles of his chest bulged. His shoulders, holding the weight of his upper half, were broad and strong.

Rosaline had to force herself to look away. All the beautiful parts of him that her hands had explored the night before were now visible in the morning sun. She was sure her cheeks were red, so she turned away, pretending to gaze into the woods.

She heard Caelan rise, and she kept her gaze averted as he dressed behind her.

“Ye dinnae need to give me privacy, lass. I think we’re past that now.”

Her cheeks flushed further at his words, and she scrambled to come up with a reply.

“I’m watchin’ the birds,” she squeaked.

Caelan stifled a laugh behind her but continued to dress nonetheless, and was soon packing the furs back into sacks and draping them over Miller’s back.

“We’ll take him to the river to drink and then head back to the castle. Whoever chased us last night will have fled by now.”

Rosaline was happy with the plan, despite having to head back to the water. Her fear was certainly reduced, but it was hard to completely get rid of it. Regardless, she just wanted to head back to the castle. She needed time alone to think everything over.

They walked Miller to the river, Rosaline trailing slightly behind for both fear of the water and conversation, and she was relieved that Caelan let her do so without question. She wondered if he had regrets too.

Once the horse had drunk his fill, Caelan lifted her onto his back and jumped up to sit behind her as usual.

As they trotted back in the direction of the castle, she felt the tension in both of their bodies. Neither uttered a word, other than when Caelan checked that she was warm enough, and soon the castle came back into view. The grounds were quiet—likely a slow morning after yesterday’s festival—and Rosaline was grateful.

“I ought to go wash meself and change into a clean dress,” she said, excusing herself as soon as she dismounted Miller.

“All right, lass.” Caelan nodded, steering Miller back to the stables for morning oats.

Rosaline rushed inside the castle, sure that everyone would notice that she was in the same clothes as yesterday and somehow see the sin on her skin. It should never have happened, as they were not yet married, and she felt that everyone around would be able to tell.

As she hurried up the stairs, she saw feet descending but was unable to look up to identify their owner. In the end, she had no choice, as the owner of those feet grabbed her arm as they passed.

Rosaline flinched at first, reminded of the nuns’ scolding, but when she saw that it was Michaela who had caught her, she softened.

“Oh, mornin’, Michaela,” she greeted with a sigh.

She was glad to see that it was only Michaela, as what harm could this nice older lady wish upon her? But still, she hoped to move on quickly. She desperately needed to be alone.

“Mornin’, lass. Ye are glowin’ today.”

“I am?” She touched a hand to her cheek, certain now that some remnants of her pleasure from the night before were visible on her skin.

“Aye. I ken why.”

Rosaline panicked. She held her breath and tried to school her features, so as not to reveal any more than she somehow already had.

“Ye will be at the peak of yer cycle in three days. The perfect time for a bairn to make its home in yer belly. Women always glow more than the sun at such a magical time.”

Rosaline’s eyes widened. Her mind went blank, and she could think of not a single reasonable word to say to the woman.

“Dinnae be so scared, lass. It willnae get there without ye kennin’ about it.” Michaela laughed as she continued down the stairs, finally leaving Rosaline with even more thoughts than she already had.

Just go to yer room .

She put one foot in front of the other until she finally reached her bedroom and leaned back against the door as it closed. She exhaled, her hands on her cheeks, checking she was still alive.

What on earth is happenin’?

* * *

“Jayden, follow me,” Caelan called into the Great Hall, where Jayden was sitting, eating his morning meal.

At the sight of his Laird, who had been mysteriously missing all night, Jayden jumped up to his feet.

“Me Laird, where have ye been?” Jayden had to yell to be heard as he dashed to the door because Caelan was already back on the move, marching towards his study.

“Caelan, wait!” Jayden shouted, trying to catch up with the Laird.

Caelan held the door to his study open for him once he finally arrived and went straight to sit at his desk.

“Ye were gone all night—we were worried sick,” Jayden panted.

“Nae sick enough to stop ye from eatin’ breakfast.”

Jayden dipped his chin. “I was out lookin’ for ye all night. I came back to check if ye had returned and was just fuelin’ up for the day’s search.”

“I’m only kiddin’ with ye, Jayden. Sit.”

Jayden rolled his eyes but obeyed, sitting across from Caelan’s desk and placing his hands on his knees. “Where were ye?”

“I took Rosaline to town to buy her some dresses.”

“That doesnae take an entire day and night, Me Laird.”

Caelan was tired. He sighed before continuing, less bothered with explaining his absence and more so wanting to get to the point he was trying to make.

“We rode through the village on the way back, and we had to take a detour through the woods, as the crowds were fillin’ the streets.”

“Caelan, ye ken?—”

“Hush. I can journey through me own woodlands,” Caelan cut in before Jayden could complain any further. “Men followed us into the woods. I heard them immediately, and we outran them by a mile. They never even got close. I decided to take shelter in a cave in the woods, rather than give them more distance to track us back to the castle.”

Jayden dropped his forehead into his palm, shaking his head. “I hate it, but probably a wise call.”

“I have somethin’ else I need to speak with ye about,” Caelan added.

“Other than the identities of the people who followed ye into the woods, on yer own land?” Jayden scoffed.

“I got nay clear view of them, and they couldnae get anywhere near me. They are gone—they dinnae matter.”

Jayden rolled his eyes again, as though he could tell that his Laird was not in a mood to be argued with.

“I need ye to investigate somethin’ for me.”

“All right.” Jayden leaned back in his chair, listening.

“I want to ken more about the Abbey Rosaline escaped from. The one in Stonepeak Forest. There are two nuns there—Mother Denise Cowan, the Abbess, and Sister Maude Whyte. I want ye to find out everythin’ ye can about them. Find me somethin’ I can leverage against them. Proper diggin’.”

“Are they goin’ to come after the lass?” Jayden looked entirely confused.

“Maybe. Either way, they are evil, and I willnae let them live in peace. Find me somethin’ on them.”

“Aye, Me Laird,” Jayden said, writing down the names on a piece of parchment he took out of his pocket, with the quill on Caelan’s desk.

“And one more. Conall Shaw, Laird of Clan MacKinnon.”

“Clan MacKinnon,” Jayden echoed, running the name over in his mind. “I think they’re about a hundred miles or so up north. I havenae heard anythin’ about them in many years. Do ye think this Conall is the one that’s been after ye?”

“Nay,” Caelan replied. “He is Rosaline’s braither.”

Jayden paused his writing and looked up. “Are ye seekin’ a dowry?”

“Nay, nay dowry. I have plenty to support the lass meself. I just think he ought to ken where his sister is, and who she is marryin’. And he owes the lass answers after all these years. Track him down for me.”

“Aye, Me Laird. I’ll get on it right away.”

Jayden finally rose and left the study.

Caelan reclined in his chair, glad to have gotten the names back to his right-hand man, finally able to relax. As he closed his eyes, his mind replayed images of Rosaline—her body, her movements, and everything he had learned about her the night before. He had adored touching her, tasting her, and she was more than he could have asked for.

She was perfect.

He only hoped he hadn’t pushed her too far, too soon. She had been quiet this morning, reserved. Seeing the real her shine through the night before had been a privilege, and he was desperate to see that girl again.

Caelan knew that that in itself was wrong. He should not have done what he did. Their marriage was to be contractual only, and their relationship too. He could not let her fall for a man already doomed to die.

It was all too cruel to leave a woman heartbroken and alone when a man knew his days were numbered. He should have kept his distance, physically and emotionally, but she pulled him in too deep. Everything about her was irresistible, and he knew he would do it again.