Page 116 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
Elinor rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Katherine, if ye’re now choosing to remind me that I married a killer– ”
“He did walk in this morning with blood on his clothes,” Anna interrupted.
“I ken he is going to tell me what happened when he is ready. The last thing I want to do is force him. Killing is hard enough on him already.”
“Ye think he doesnae enjoy it?”
Elinor tried to smile, but it did not hold. “I daenae think he derives pleasure from it,” she responded. “I saw him do it, and I saw it on his face. The look of regret. He doesnae like to do it.”
More silence fell between them, one laced with doubt and judgment. They did not believe her, and they were not wrong not to. That had not seen him kill Jamie, his best friend. They had not seen the look on his face right after. But she had.
A part of her knew this was all a burden to him. He just needed someone to take it away.
She thanked them both again, though for some reason, the words felt heavy in her mouth.
“We shall leave ye to it,” Katherine declared, rising to her feet.
“Aye. Nay one needs more rest than the bride on her wedding day.” Anna flashed her sister a knowing wink.
“Thank ye. Ye may leave now,” Elinor said sternly.
When they left the room, the quiet returned with a vengeance.
She remained seated for some time, her gaze fixed on the empty chair by the wall. Then, she rose to her feet and began to pace the room, her feet bare over the hard floor. She traced each spot on the floor with her toes over and over.
She paused at the window to stare at the horizon. Nothing could be seen across the courtyard except a few animals, distant lights—most likely from the stables—and the grass bowing to the evening air. She turned away from the window and pressed her hand to her mouth.
She thought of going to him. Of pushing open the door to his chamber and forcing the words out of her mouth. But she stayed where she was, caught between hope and dread.
Would she have to keep worrying whether he would disappear or not every night?
The door handle shifted at last.
He didn’t knock, she knew. It had to be him.
She turned around so fast that the hem of her nightshift caught in her heels.
Ciaran stepped in, the door closing behind him without a soft click. His hair was damp, curling at his temples. His shirt hung loose at the collar, the edge of a fresh bandage peeking above the linen.
She lifted her chin. “I thought ye would come sooner.”
He did not answer.
His gaze roved over her face, steady but too far away. She did not let that discourage her. Instead, she took a step closer.
The green in his eyes reflected the brightness of the candlelight, and his skin gleamed like satin.
“We need to speak,” she added, her voice quieter now. “About today. About what comes next.”
He stood silent.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I wondered if— if we might review the terms of our marriage. Ye ken. About children.”
Ciaran narrowed his eyes at her. “Ye daenae think I changed me mind now, do ye? I daenae want children. Nay child deserves to grow up with the Hound as his faither.”
Elinor shuffled her feet. “It doesnae have to be as it was. Ye daenae have to carry the guilt all by yerself. We could become a family A real one.”
Ciaran did not respond. A part of her had expected this, yet watching it play out did not make it any easier.
