Page 62 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
CHAPTER 17
Anna hovered a lot,and Ciaran hated every single second of it.
So far, she was the sibling who got on his nerves the most. He understood that she was looking out for her sister, and recognized the intention and where it came from, but he couldn’t hide the fact that the questions she had been asking him since he sat for the portrait grated on hima lot.
The painter had begun to draw his eyes, and the fact that he had to sit still and take everything Anna was throwing at him was the most frustrating part of it.
“What is her favorite color?” she asked, her tone clipped, the back-and-forth movement of her red head almost making him dizzy.
“I daenae ken. We havenae spoken about that yet.”
“Ye’re getting married in a week.”
“And we only met a few days ago. I cannae ken everything yet.”
Anna nodded. “I suppose ye have a point. I shall ask ye hypothetical questions, then.”
“Do we really have to do this now?”
“Aye. Now, what is stopping ye?”
“Well, for one, I am getting me portrait done. I cannae move a lot.”
“We already drew yer mouth; I daenae ken why ye’re complaining. All ye have to do is answer the questions honestly.”
Ciaran rolled his eyes. Where was Elinor when he needed her?
“Are yer questions going to be stupid?”
“That’ll be for ye to determine, Laird MacTraigh.”
Ciaran threw his head back.
“M’Laird, I apologize, but ye have to…” The painter, an old man with greying sideburns, gestured with his hand.
Ciaran repositioned his head. “Let’s hear the questions, then.”
“Suppose Elinor challenged ye to a duel over the ownership of the pantry, how would ye respond?”
Ciaran cocked his head, his brow furrowed. “Are ye serious?”
“As a fever,” Anna responded, her voice unwavering.
“Why would I want to own the pantry in the first place?”
“I daenae ken. Why does anyone do anything? Ye have to answer the question, M’Laird.”
Ciaran sighed. “I wouldnae agree to the duel. I’ll just give her the control she wants.”
“What if she doesnae want to be given control? What if she wants to earn it?”
“Then I’ll fight her for it.”
His eyes returned to the painter, who looked utterly exhausted because Anna had been giving him directions the entire time.
A part of him wondered what the portrait would look like. Would it be intricate and detailed? Would his green eyes reflect on the canvas?
“That could use a deeper shade.” Anna mentioned to the painter. “And I think yer doing just a little too much on the cheekbones.”
