Page 41 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
Ciaran could see it before she even spoke—the look of understanding on her face. He wondered if she knew what it feltlike to desire nothing but freedom. To be able to break the very chains that kept one prisoner.
“I have a map of the Highlands back in me study,” she started. “Me late husband was a meticulous man. ‘Tis how he was able to…” she trailed off.
Ciaran arched his eyebrows. “Able to what?”
“Ye daenae need to worry about that. The point is, we can study the maps when we return and find the perfect place to relocate yer people. How about that?”
Ciaran nodded. “I would like that very much. Thank ye.”
Elinor nodded. “Good. Now that we have that sorted out, can we leave this cabin already?”
Ciaran rose to his feet and walked to the fireplace. The fire had almost died out, after Elinor threw water in it, but he needed to make certain that it was completely gone before they left.
“And Ciaran,” Elinor added.
“What?”
“Just because we’remarriedand ye have decided that I daenae have to turn around to see ye undress, doesnae mean I will return the same favor.”
“I wouldnae expect anything less.” He laughed.
This was it. This was a great way to establish a rapport. She had agreed to help him, and hopefully, she could keep up her end of the deal.
“There is one thing that is non-negotiable, though,” he said, looking right at her.
Elinor frowned, not liking the mischief that flickered in his eyes.
“What?” she asked, her tone hesitant, as if she was not certain if she wanted to hear the answer.
“I have to carry ye back to the castle.”
“Ye will do nay such thing,” Elinor huffed before he could finish speaking.
“Look,” Ciaran said. “Aside from the fact that it is a great way to announce our impending nuptials, have ye seen the terrain outside? Ye’ll only slow us down if ye walk.”
“I willnae let ye carry me again, Laird MacTraigh, and that is final,” she insisted, jutting her chin.
Smoke continued to rise from the fireplace, filling the room gently as she closed the window. Ciaran stood beside the door and waited for her to leave first.
She stepped out, and he followed.
The path back to the castle was slick with mud. Ciaran walked ahead of her to determine whether the path was safe, at least for a slow walk. Elinor gingerly stepped off the porch and slowly followed behind him.
Suddenly, her feet slipped across the slick, shiny mud, and she flailed her arms as she fell face-first to the ground. Ciaran caught her right on time, his hands gripping her waist tightly. Slowly, he pulled her upright, watching the realization dawn in her bright blue eyes.
“What did I say about nae slowing us down?” he asked, a snarky grin stretching his lips.
Elinor exhaled, and a mild groan escaped her lips at the same time. “Alright. But if ye drop me, I will– ”
“Elinor, I carried rocks three times heavier than ye. Ye daenae pose any problem for me.”
Before she could give him an appropriate response, he lifted her off her feet, catching her completely off guard. She gasped, unable to hide her surprise.
“Ye’re enjoying every single moment of this, are ye nae?” she scoffed.
“Oh, ye have nay idea,” he drawled.
Elinor let out another groan.
“And back to the castle we go,” he intoned, the same grin still plastered on his face.
It annoyed her even more. But he knew that. And for some reason, it made the whole ordeal satisfying.
He waded through the wet trees and soft soil, feeling satisfied by one thing and one thing only—the look on Elinor’s face.
