Page 69 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
Elinor nodded, feeling her hair tickle her cheek. “Well, I might nae give ye an heir anyway if ye keep behaving like this.”
“Like what?” He frowned.
“Well, for me to conceive, I must invite ye to me bed first. And I daenae think I can do that if ye’re being so mean about it.”
Ciaran narrowed his eyes, letting her words sink in. “What?”
“Aye,” she said. “For ye to have an heir, I have to invite ye to me bed first, nae the other way around.”
He remained silent for a long moment, but then he furrowed his brow. “That makes nay sense. A fertility ritual?”
“Aye.”
“That sounds made up.”
A heavier silence fell over the gallery before Elinor broke it with a quiet chuckle. “Aye, it does, does it nae?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, it worked on Murdock. ‘Tis how I managed to remain a virgin all these years.”
Ciaran laughed.
It suddenly dawned on him what Anna meant earlier about her. Elinor was a mischievous hellion, and he was beginning to see that.
No. No, he could not dampen that. He had just inadvertently tried to.
Suddenly, a wave of possessiveness washed over him. As if the notion of any other man even dreaming of getting close to her would set him off.
Then, his mind wandered to the prospect of having children. He did not want any. The thought of a man like him becoming a father tore him into pieces inside. He could not do that to an innocent child. And so he vowed right there and then, with his back still on the floor, to never touch Elinor like that again. He wouldn’t be able to control himself the next time, he was sure of it.
“Did he really believe in the fertility ritual?” he asked, the thought still bothering him.
Einor opened her mouth to speak, but a series of hurried knocks on the door cut her off.
“Elinor? Are ye still in here?”
Ciaran turned his head to her, only to see utter panic on her face.
Dear Lord.
