Page 83 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
CHAPTER 22
Their horses slowed downas they entered the village square. Elinor’s eyes searched their surroundings. There wasn’t much to see.
Until today, the Coral Plains had been nothing but a spot on the endless maps in Murdock’s library. The ones she had to study over the past few years because there was nothing else to do.
Her escapism was in those maps, in the fact that there was another world out there. One that was far better than the hell she had to face every day.
But now that she was here, feeling the air on her face and smelling the distinct scent of smoke and wood, it all felt real to her. Way too real.
Most of the floors were dry, and the houses were shabby. People bowed to her as they both rode past. However, she noticedthat they were more excited to see Ciaran and showed more enthusiasm in their greetings.
“Ye’re a leader on yer turf,” Ciaran murmured when she raised this point to him. “This is mine.”
Elinor looked around anyway, unsettled by how empty the village felt. The marketplace was not as lively as the ones she was used to. Pigeons flew past, their dark wings a stark contrast to the bright afternoon sky.
“There is someone I would like ye to meet,” Ciaran added as they proceeded down the path, taking the lead once again.
Elinor rode past a woman huddled with a little girl in the corner of one of the stalls. The woman was feeding what seemed to be a bannock to the child. Her eyes flicked up as their horses approached.
Elinor gave her a brief nod of understanding. The woman gave one in return and looked back down at her child as they faded out of view.
“These…” Elinor whispered. “These are all yer people?”
“Aye.” Ciaran nodded. “They’re the ones who chose to follow me.”
She could hear the mild pride in his voice.
“We can keep the horses here.” He gestured towards a tree stump.
Elinor nodded in agreement.
Soon, they both jumped down, and Elinor watched as he tethered the horses, beginning with hers.
“If ye told me this was how the Coral Plains would look, I wouldnae have believed ye. I had always imagined a babbling brook filled with life and animals. This– ” Elinor looked around. “This is quite lifeless.”
“Ye saw it on the map.” Ciaran responded.
“Aye but still. T’is nae at all what I imagined.” Elinor said, her voice coated by the drifting wind.
“M’Laird?” a voice called from the distance before Ciaran could answer.
They both turned in the direction of the voice.
A young man who could not be older than nineteen or twenty approached them, a smile in his eyes.
“Who is that?” Elinor whispered as Ciaran tethered his horse.
“That,” Ciaran responded as he pulled a hook to secure the rope, “is Fergus.”
Elinor nodded, as if that answered all her questions.
Fergus was handsome, but not in the rugged Highlander way. He sported features that could only be found in the paintings of Michelangelo. His curly red hair rested over his forehead like a cap, fluttering along with the wind as he approached them. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and his movements were sharp. Precise. Filled with purpose.
God, was he so young. He looked like he should be sitting behind a desk, checking the ledgers, not wielding a sword that looked too heavy for him.
He eventually stopped before them. At that point, Ciaran had finished tethering the horses.
“Ye’re back.”
