Page 8 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
He let out a small huff that had no mirth in it, lowering his voice to convey his seriousness. “Aye. We will be wed at the kirk on me land.”
Rosaline pondered the idea. Marriage had never been something she had considered seriously. At home, she had been too young, and at the convent, she had no time to think of such a thing. She could hardly imagine herself as a bride.
“I dinnae ken how good of a wife I’ll be. Ye might nae want me.”
“I think I ken how good ye’ll be,” he retorted, lowering his voice further.
What does that mean?
That he knew she would be terrible? Or did the sigh in his voice imply what she thought it meant?
His arms tightened around her waist, and she swore she felt him pull himself closer.
As she pretended to focus on the views, turning her head to watch the rolling hills as they passed by, she could not ignore the feel of his body against hers, jolting her with each gallop.
She noticed that for a man who had just fought a battle and killed, and carried her across the clearing and rode for miles on a horse, he did not smell like the beast he should have been. His scent was masculine, earthy, but fresh. She had sat with it for an hour now, yet it was still distinguishable. Her senses sought it out.
His chest against her back felt strong and muscular. Rosaline could feel his pectorals against her shoulders, encasing her in safety and supporting her weight. His thighs cradled hers, making sure she did not slip out of place as the horse powered on over rocks and valleys.
Suddenly, after so long of not even thinking about it, she became aware of her hands. Perhaps they wanted to wander.
She had put them on the pommel in front of her the entire ride, holding on, but there was no real need. Caelan had her totally secured. His hands held the reins and were almost resting on her knees. She was sure now that he would have been more comfortable if he had been able to put them down.
In an act of bravery, she lifted one hand, placed it on his wrist, and gently lowered it to her leg.
She felt his head tilt towards her, questioning her meaning, but she looked dead ahead, giving nothing away. She just wanted him to think that she was allowing him to rest out of sympathy.
And that’s all it was, wasn’t it? His hands were warm on her thighs, even through her tunic. He eventually let some weight drop into them as his body relaxed into hers.
The touch, though small, felt intimate.
Rosaline allowed herself to soak in the moment and assess her body’s reaction to his touch. Did she feel safe this close to him? Could she trust him not to grip or trail his hands up her legs?
After a few more hours of riding and idle chatter, she decided that, for now, she could.
Once a castle finally came into view, Rosaline asked immediately, “Is that it? Is that Castle Sinclair?”
“It is indeed, lass.”
At last, she was to meet her new home.
Her pulse quickened at the sight of the tall grey towers sitting above a fair village, full of clansfolk going about their late afternoon activities.
The ride had been a transition. Perhaps it was a mere few hours of freedom between two entrapments. Rosaline had been so desperate to arrive, to seek more answers, and yet now that they were almost there, she didn’t want the ride to end.
What if this is the last daylight I will see? The last fresh air I will breathe?
She could be taken straight to a dungeon, locked up, and used as a servant. Had she not fled such horror, she would have been a total fool to come all this way on the promise Caelan had made her. But she had to remember that she had very little to lose.
They galloped onwards, her new home growing bigger and clearer with each second. Rosaline tried to assess the health and faces of the villagers as they drew closer, trying to determine the cruelty they lived under. But she was able to glean little. She simply had to keep her wits about her and stay strong.
Finally, they approached the castle gates and rode into a welcoming committee.
Rosaline held her breath.
CHAPTERFIVE
His sister and his man-at-arms waited to greet him. They must have been looking out for him, expecting his return an hour earlier. Not bad for a man who had battled four assassins and acquired a bride.
