Page 88 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
“After.” His tone was crisp, but the regret underneath was immense. He could feel it dragging him to the ground like an unseen force. A well of guilt pulling him below. “And I shall carry that with me for as long as I live. But I told himenoughafter that. I should have killed him on the spot when I found out, but I didnae.”
“He was yer braither at the end of the day.”
“Nay, ye daenae understand. I should have killed him. What he did was appalling. I should’ve driven a dagger straight into his heart. But I couldnae bring meself to do it because he still had a hold over me. So I left instead. Told him I wouldnae be bound by his rules any longer. I expected his anger. But what I didnae predict was half the clan leaving with me.”
“I cannae imagine how angry that must have made him.”
“Oh, ye cannae,” Ciaran scoffed. “But I must admit, it was so satisfying to realize that half the clan hated him as much as I did at that moment. So I walked out and never looked back. Then, I realized we needed a place to stay. We’ve been moving from one place to another for the past month. Then, I heard about an auction happening and thought there could be a way.”
Elinor laughed for what must have been the first time since they settled in the hall. “Ye thought the auction could be the solution to yer problems.”
“Aye,” he uttered.
“That was quite a lofty dream, Laird MacTraigh,” she teased.
Ciaran shrugged. “Well, it worked out in the end, did it nae?”
“I suppose,” Elinor relented, her voice calm.
The pipers continued playing, their haunting music providing the perfect melancholy for his story.
Ciaran couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking at that moment. What was going through her head. A part of him wondered if she would be able to rid him of his troubles if they did get married.
Out of the corner of his eye, against the light that filtered in through the entrance, he saw a man stepping towards them.
He felt it before he even twisted around—the hostility in the air. Or perhaps he was being overly dramatic.
“Greetings, M’Laird,” the man said in a gravelly voice.
Ciaran fully turned to him.
The man’s face was not familiar. Ciaran did not know all the members of his clan, but he was familiar with most.
He did not recognize this man. He had glossy red hair, and the smile playing on his lips bordered on predatory.
“M’Lady. Greetings to ye as well,” the man added, his eyes fixed on Elinor.
Ciaran’s eyes flicked to her, and he noticed the polite smile on her face. The brief nod she gave the man. The warmth in her voice when she responded, “Greetings to ye, Sir.”
For some reason, his ears started ringing. Like he was being threatened. And for some reason, he couldn’t take any of it.
Elinor’s warm reception must have emboldened the man because he moved forward, his smile turning into a wide grin.
“‘Tis such lovely music, is it nae?” he asked, his eyes darting between Elinor and Ciaran, almost like he didn’t know which one to look at.
Ciaran could tell he couldn’t look at Elinor because Ciaran’s piercing gaze would burn holes in the back of his head. He couldn’t exactly look at Ciaran either because he would burn holes in the man’s eyes if he could.
“I was wondering if ye would do me the honor of dancing with me.”
“Oh, ye’re too kind. I have nothing to do at the moment, so I suppose I could,” Elinor responded.
Her words landed on Ciaran’s heart like a rock that had rolled off a cliff.
She isnae serious, is she? Would she really dance with this fool?
The answer to that question came as Elinor pushed her chair back and stood up.
Ciaran looked back at the man and fixed him with the coldest glare he could muster, filled with warning.
