Page 125 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
CHAPTER 34
“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.”
