Page 24 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
“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.”
