Page 17 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
“Nay.”
“Me skin is pale, I ken that. I didnae see a lot of sun in the past few years.”
“I havenae noticed.”
“Please. I heard the other lairds talking about it last night when I walked back to me chambers. Ye daenae see anything wrong with it?”
Ciaran placed his hands gently on the table and leaned forward. “Lady MacAdair, are ye trying to get me to say something offensive about ye?”
“I daenae ken. Ye’re a killer—shouldnae be hard.”
His eyes flickered with mirth. “Is that all ye think I am? A killer?”
“Nay. But I daenae expect a killer to be gentle and respectful. I’m trying to spare ye the humiliation.”
“Is that all ye’re trying to spare me?”
Einor didn’t respond. She couldn’t. He seemed to have caught all the ways she had been trying to push him away from her and somehow used them to his advantage. She hated him for that.
“Ye seem to enjoy the attention these lairds give ye,” she finally said, seeing Thomas shuffle his feet out of the corner of her eye.
“Why do ye say so?” Ciaran asked.
“They parted for ye like the Red Sea when ye made yer way here. That is how scared of ye they were.”
“And what about ye?”
“What about me?”
“Were ye scared of me?” Elinor swallowed as he leaned forward in his seat. “Were ye hoping I’d chop off a hand or two, M’Lady? Or stick me dagger in someone’s neck?”
“I daenae ken. Ye did it before, did ye nae? Ye’ll have to forgive me for assuming that it sounds like ye.”
Ciaran slid his hands off the table and leaned back. “Dinnae worry, M’Lady. I daenae need me blade to beat these poor men. The sooner ye realize that, the sooner we can come to an agreement.”
He rose to his feet and took a step closer to her.
Thomas reached for the hilt of his sword, and Ciaran raised his hand. “Ye daenae need to worry.”
Elinor motioned for Thomas to stand down as Ciaran leaned towards her again, his lips a hairsbreadth from her ear.
“I expect ye in me chambers after the feast is over.”
Perhaps it was his words or the way he had whispered them, but her heart fluttered in her chest.
“Dinnae keep me waiting, M’Lady,” he murmured.
With those words, he straightened up and smoothed his shirt.
Elinor watched as he turned around, that smug smile still playing on his lips, and slowly walked out of the hall.
“That bastard,” she whispered, almost to herself.
