Page 3 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
Elinor sprang into action almost immediately. She reached for one of the shawls that hung behind the door and told the maid to lead the way.
“Where is Katherine?” she asked as they hurried down the passageway and towards the Laird’s quarters.
“She’s with him,” Jenny responded, exhaustion from running lacing her voice.
They hurried through the halls and flew up the stairs, the flickering firelight blurring past them.
Jenny pushed the door open when they got there and stepped inside.
Something about the room felt different to Elinor at that moment. She rarely got to visit it, not after that night three years ago.
Thunder rumbled louder as she walked in, as if stressing the fact that something had happened.
Something big.
Katherine looked up at her, her hands pressing hard on the Laird’s chest.
“Katherine?” Elinor squeaked.
Her eyes darted towards the lifeless form on the bed. His lips were blistering blue, and his face was growing grayer by the second.
She knew. Even before Katherine said it, she knew. There was only one possible outcome.
Her heart stuttered in her chest as she stood in the corner, watching. Waiting.
Katherine looked down at the Laird again and pressed harder on his chest, mild grunts escaping her lips with each press.
Elinor turned to Jenny, who remained frozen by the door, her clasped hands trembling uncontrollably.
“I am sorry,” Katherine sighed, bringing her back to the present.
Elinor turned to her again.
The healer had stopped pressing on the Laird’s chest. She had given up. Her mouth opened, her lips were moving, but Elinor could not fathom the words. They buzzed like insects in her ears.
She was stunned, and no matter how hard she tried, her feet remained rooted to the spot by the bed frame.
“Elinor!” Katherine’s voice cut through the buzzing almost immediately.
Elinor’s eyes widened, and she turned to the healer, the Laird’s body a blur in the periphery of her vision.
“Did ye nae hear me?”
She shook her head.
“He’s dead, Elinor. The Laird is dead.”
She still couldn’t move. Katherine’s words must have thrown even more weight on her feet.
“I cannae save him,” Katherine added.
Elinor remained still.
Elinor sat at the head of the table. She didn’t know she could feel exhilarated and worried at the same time, but here she was, her hands resting on the table, listening to the councilmen before her speak over each other. Thoughts raced in her head as she watched them.
It had been a week since Laird MacAdair was buried. The atmosphere on the day of the funeral was tense, but an unmistakable undercurrent of happiness and a wave of relief had swept through the crowd. The councilmen and servants probably all retired to their quarters singing the praises of the Lord that night.
Every few moments, her mind would bring her back to the present, and she would briefly hear the overlapping voices of the councilmen. However, she could not make out anything but a few sentences.
