Page 39 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
“I’m marrying the Hound,” she repeated.
“I heard ye the first time,” Ciaran muttered.
“Nay, ye daenae get it.I’mmarrying the Hound. It means nay man will dare to come near me,” she explained, before her voice dropped an octave. “Well, if ye daenae kill me first.”
Ciaran laughed, thinking this was another one of her jokes. When he saw the stone-cold expression on her face, he shook his head and placed a hand on his chest.
“Elinor, I solemnly swear nae to murder ye for any reason whatsoever. Even if that reason might be valid.”
Elinor frowned. “Ye think ye’re so smart, do ye nae?”
“I ken I am. ‘Tis why I’m the only one here, and nae the others,” he responded.
Elinor shrugged again in response. The towel almost slipped from her hands, and she started to fold it again, then she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Would ye object to a big wedding?” she asked, her eyes fixed on the towel, even though it was clear to Ciaran that she was not fully paying attention to it.
“I daenae mind. The bigger, the better. What about ye?”
She nodded quickly. “I daenae mind that as well.”
“Really?” Ciaran asked.
He walked to the edge of the bed and sat next to her. She eventually turned to him, their faces merely inches apart.
“Ye daenae haveanyproblem with it at all?”
She shook her head. “Nay.”
“Nae even the fact that ye’re marrying a killer? Ye havenae been exactly shy to bring that up at every given opportunity.”
“Like I said, marrying ye will guarantee me protection from other men.”
Ciaran grinned. “Did yer former husband nae offer ye protection?”
Elinor turned to the towel again, loosening the folds deliberately this time.
Ciaran immediately sensed the change in her mood.
“Elinor, if I did anything– ”
“Let us talk about something else, shall we?” she mumbled, cutting him off.
Ciaran didn’t argue. Instead, he lay back on the bed and heaved a sigh of relief. His eyes strayed to her back, tracing the laces of her dress.
“How soon do ye want an heir?” she asked.
“Why? Are ye keen on giving me one as soon as possible?” he drawled, a sly smile on his face. “How soon will ye submit to me?”
Elinor coughed and lowered her head, trying desperately to look busy with the towel she continued to loosen and fold all over again.
Ciaran sat up and reached for her chin.
“Like I said…” he muttered, turning her to him. Their faces were a hairsbreadth apart now. If he leaned closer, their lips would touch. “I daenae want an heir.”
Silence descended on them like a thick, wet blanket. For the better part of a minute, they remained in that position until Ciaran turned his head away.
“I daenae want an heir,” he repeated.
