Page 7 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
She was actually escaping the convent. The torture was behind her, and it was getting further away with each gallop.
Perhaps she was riding into another kind of trap, but at least the evil she had suffered for years was gone. She had managed it.
A small laugh escaped her, incredulous at her freedom.
As the trees began to part and they entered wide open fields and hills, Rosaline saw the forest behind them. It was massive. She could not even see the convent anymore, and the clearing was barely visible.
Caelan let the mare slow her pace a little but continued their journey onwards.
“Where are we headed?” Rosaline finally asked, once she had gotten over her elation.
“Me castle,” Caelan answered.
Although she was facing ahead, she could detect a faint smile in his voice.
“Which is where exactly?” she enquired further.
“Only half a day’s ride. Castle Sinclair.”
Rosaline remembered the name upon hearing it again. The fourth assassin had called Caelan ‘Sinclair.’ If that was the name of both the castle and the man, then he had to be the Laird, or at least the Laird’s son.
“Are ye… the Laird?”
“I am now.”
Me goodness.If he is the Laird and I am to be his bride, then I am to be Lady Sinclair.
How drastically her life had changed in the span of an hour. Just this morning, she had been a servant in a convent, constantly fearing for her life, avoiding beatings, and eating only leftover scraps of food when they were given. She worked all day long, tirelessly, and ached all night. And now she was riding miles away from the said convent, engaged to the Laird of the castle she was headed for.
How utterly bizarre. There has to be a catch.
“And why exactly does a handsome, young laird need to blackmail a penniless, young invalid into bein’ his wife?”
Caelan chuckled, and she felt the sound vibrate against her back.
“And she’s funny too,” he mused.
“Well?”
“All shall be revealed in time, I’m sure. Dinnae worry, lass. I might nae be as charmin’ as some lairds in the stories, but I’m nae some ogre who lives in a dungeon. We’ll make sure ye’re taken care of.”
She was not sure whether to believe his words or not. Something didn’t add up, and perhaps she was pessimistic, but she was sure it was not going to go in her favor.
Still, she tried to enjoy her freedom while it lasted. It had been years since she had been able to see so far. She had greatly missed the bonnie Scottish countryside, and it was a pleasure to ride through it once again.
“How is the ankle?”
His question startled her at first. She could not reconcile this man, who was willing to save her from her torture and who cared about any pain that she felt, with the man who had slain a man in front of her and was still covered in his blood.
“It’s all right. It was only the pain of the cut that caused me to limp. I believe the bone is fine.”
Her ankle, in fact, throbbed more than she let on, but she didn’t want him to think her any more vulnerable than he already did.
“I will have it looked at once we arrive at Castle Sinclair.”
Is he really goin’ to keep me? To marry me and look after me? What for?
“Ye are serious about this marriage business?” she asked, unable to contain the question any longer.
