Page 18 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
“That is fair,” he relented. “We are to be wed within seven days. I will have everythin’ arranged—ye only need to be there. If ye need anythin’ in the meantime, just ask one of the servants or me sister.”
Before she could ask anything further or even acknowledge his plan, he walked off.
He was a strange man, but she did not need anything more from him for the moment. As long as he left her alone most of the time and did not intend to harm her, she would ask for no more. Marriage was not something she had dreamed of. Peace was.
* * *
Rosaline sat at the writing desk in her room, trying to put pen to paper once more.Dear Conall, was all she had managed to write thus far.
It should have been a task she was familiar with by now, having written hundreds and hundreds of letters to her brother over the last few years. But having received no reply all that time, she could never begin one without thinking that maybe she had worded the last wrong.
She wanted to tell him about the change in her situation. He at least should know where she was—and marriage was important, after all. After years at the convent, and having been left there when she had only just grown out of childhood, she could remember all her family's important connections and rivalries. She hoped the Sinclairs would not cause her brother trouble, but Caelan seemed embroiled in a feud with many clans. She still had not told him her surname, and thus he would not have been able to tell her either.
Eventually, she forced herself to write without further deliberation. She wrote clearly and calmly, so as not to worry him, and hoped this letter would not go unanswered. She folded it and slipped it into an envelope she had found in the bottom desk drawer and wrote her brother’s name and address once again, as she had so many times at the convent.
She wrapped a cape that Alexandra had given her that afternoon around herself and headed down the stairs. She passed through the courtyard. The late evening light bathed some of the plants in new colors, making them glow differently than she had seen before. While she would have liked to stop and admire them, she moved on to the castle gates.
As she neared the gates, she pictured an outpost where runners were often stationed with horses, ready to deliver any letters that had to go to neighboring clans and beyond. The cool evening air, fresh and crisp on her skin, calmed her as she walked.
Halfway there, she was suddenly stopped and jerked backward, seized by the upper arm. The movement knocked the air out of her lungs, and her entire body tensed at the familiar feeling of being grabbed and pulled.
Dread of the pain that had ruled her life for all these years rose inside her.
CHAPTERNINE
“Where the hell do ye think ye’re goin’?”
Rosaline turned her head eventually, having initially closed her eyes and dipped her chin to her chest, fearing a familiar whack on the back of the head or some other painful injury that the nuns had inflicted on her so many times. Back in the present, she expected to see a guard restraining her under command to keep her confined to the castle. She did not expect to see Caelan himself pulling her back, furious.
“I…” she stuttered, struggling to keep the fear from her voice. “I was just goin’ to send a letter.”
Seeing the frustration on his face, Rosaline reminded herself that she had not sold her soul to him. She had promised to marry him in exchange for his help, not become his slave. She yanked her arm free from his grasp, turned back towards the outpost beyond, and took another step towards it. But she got no further.
This time, Caelan’s hands landed on her waist and her opposite shoulder, his arm curling around her torso, spinning her back towards him. He pulled her closer this time, restraining her in a firm embrace.
“I didnae give ye permission to send a letter, bunny.” He smirked, raising an eyebrow and marching her back towards the castle. His strength moved her body, but did not cause pain.
Rosaline grew angry at his attitude. He was demeaning her, controlling her while trying to be playful. Is this how he expected marriage to be?
She would not be his victim and his playmate. He had to pick one.
“I am sendin’ a letter to me braither, tellin’ him where I am and that I am to marry. I dinnae need yer permission to do that.”
Rosaline kept her letter behind her back, out of his reach. She did not want him to see her brother’s name. She had heard nothing from him in years, despite the horror she had gone through at the convent. Maybe he no longer cared about her or had forgotten about her entirely.
If Caelan knew who he was, he might seek him out. If her brother was going to ignore her, Rosaline wanted that to remain between them.
“Ye most certainly do.”
* * *
“I am nae yer puppet,” Rosaline huffed.
Caelan could not deny that he was enjoying the tension of their encounter. It was imperative that letters did not leave his clan without inspection and through the right channels. But the fact that her attempt allowed him to pull her this close, even if it was to restrain her, excited him.
“Really? I thought I just hadnae found yer strings yet,” he snickered.
She rolled her eyes, and he drank in the gesture. He loosened his grip ever so slightly and noticed she did not immediately step out of his embrace.
