Page 93 of The Highlander's Auctioned Virgin
Jamie sputtered. “Ye ken he’ll only send more people after ye, do ye nae? They’ll keep coming. Until ye remember where home is and return.”
Ciaran twisted his sword, and a slight whimper escaped Jamie’s lips. The man trembled for the better part of a minute before he went limp.
Ciaran rose to his feet, his bloodstained boots gleaming in the firelight. “Anyone else here intending to make a stupid decision?”
“Ye just killed him, ye bastard!” a voice roared from the crowd.
Before he could figure out where it had come from, another man jumped forward. Ciaran did not recognize him, but he saw his tartan.
“How many of ye are in here?” he groaned.
“Ye just murdered him. Ye killed him like he was nothing!”
Unlike Jamie, this man was quite young. Ciaran squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. Would he have to kill him, too?
“I daenae even ken who ye are.”
“It doesnae matter,” the man snarled. He unsheathed a small dagger and pointed it at Ciaran. “Ye think ye have won? Ye think killing him means anything? Ye’ll die here today. Same as her and the rest of them. Damn traitors.”
He pulled back his arm, poised to strike. Ciaran could see the way he gripped the hilt of his dagger. He was going to throw it at him.
He lunged before the man could think, hoping to catch him off guard. Fergus ran to the other side and stood with Elinor, his grip tight on his sword as well. The man tried to throw his dagger at her but Ciaran kicked him by the shin, destabilizing him. He fell to the ground, the knife falling from his hand.
Ciaran grabbed it and pressed the blade against his neck before the man could move.
“Last chance.”
“Rot in hell, ye traitorous bastard!”
Ciaran shook his head. “Wrong answer.”
He ran a fist across the man's face and before he could think twice, jabbed the pointy edge of the dagger into the side of the neck.
Another wave of jagged whisp ers fell through the crowd as blood pooled the floor again. Ciaran rose to his feet, his eyes dazed as he stared at the two bodies on the floor.
For the next minute, nothing could be heard except utter silence and the sound of warm blood spreading on the floor. He could see the looks on the faces of the people around him shift. He did not care about that. They knew who he was before they followed him. Hell, it waswhythey followed him. Fergus cleared his throat almost immediately, bringing the crowd to order.
“I believe we’ve all had enough of that, do ye nae think?” He asked. Ciaran turned to him, grateful that he was able to protect Elinor for that brief moment. It wasn't until he saw her, well enough that he exhaled.
Ciaran turned again to the bodies and watched the blood drip from the edge of the same sword he had used to kill Jamie. His eyes returned to Elinor again, unable to say anything. He recognized the look on her face all too well. He had seen it on a lot of people.
She had just seen him kill a man; he could tell by the look on her face.
And she lookedterrified.
Elinor’s head was pounding, and her heart beat like wild waves on a distant beach.
Disbelief hovered over her like the tension in the room—thick, hot, and suffocating. She watched a few other men step into the middle of the hall and grab the bodies.
She watched the blood trail behind those men like a brand of sin as they dragged the bodies out of the hall. She watched surprised looks flash across people’s faces and then disappear just as quickly.
This was not the first time they had witnessed something like this.
“Lass,” Ciaran snapped.
She flinched, her eyes turning to him. How long had he been standing there?
“Are ye all right?” he asked, his green eyes full of concern.
