Page 22 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
“Ye will have yer own things. Ye are goin’ to be a laird’s wife.”
Rosaline tried to protest further, but he did not intend to smother her with compliments to silence her. He had to keep her at a distance while appropriately caring for her.
He placed his hands on her waist once more and lifted her onto Miller’s back.
“Caelan, I?—”
“Enough.”
“Sorry,” she stuttered.
He put his foot into the left stirrup and swung his leg over, mounting the horse behind her once more. His body settled back into the space it had occupied on their journey to the castle as he quickly took hold of the reins and nudged Miller forward.
* * *
The pair rode mostly in silence. Caelan had many questions he would have liked to ask her, and tales of the village he would have liked to recount as they rode through it, but the trip itself was already too much of a risk. He had picked her because she didn’t know him, and it was best that she didn’t get to. There was no point in a real relationship between the two of them when it would never truly last.
Still, he enjoyed the peace and her proximity. His body was undeniably drawn to hers and found great delight in spending so much time near it. He would certainly have no trouble siring an heir with Rosaline, that was for sure.
On the road between the village and the nearby town, an older man on horseback came from the opposite direction. Caelan recognized the tartan as his clan’s at first, so he did not worry. Gradually, the glint of the bald head in the sun and the round belly on the saddle became clear, and he realized who it was.
“Uncle Harrison,” he greeted. “Just returnin’ from town?”
“Boy,” Harrison returned.
He was the former Laird’s younger brother. He had been a part of Caelan’s life as long as he could remember, although not in a positive way. Caelan recalled his father and him arguing a lot when he was a child, but he had never been privy to why they feuded.
Since his father’s death, Harrison’s mood seemed to have improved—oddly. He spent a lot of time at the castle and invested time in the elder meetings. Caelan found him perfectly agreeable at this point in his life, albeit a bit strange.
“Who might this be?” Harrison asked, ignoring his question.
“This is Rosaline. She arrived at Castle Sinclair with me only a few days ago.”
“Ah.” Harrison nudged his horse closer as if to get a better look at her. “We rarely see me nephew with a woman, Rosaline, so ye’ll have to forgive me surprise.”
Rosaline smiled politely, but Caelan could feel the awkwardness in her body. Her shoulders were curled inward and tight, and he could swear she was leaning back into him a little.
“Might ye be the future Lady Sinclair?” Harrison grimaced.
Again, Caelan felt Rosaline push back into him a little more.
“Aye, we are engaged to be married within the week, as I’m sure ye’ll be glad to ken, Uncle Harrison.”
“Aah, how… wonderful,” Harrison drawled. “Arenae ye a lucky woman.”
“Thought it was about time,” Caelan spoke, trying to fill the gaps to quell Rosaline’s discomfort.
“Well, I hope ye settle in nicely, Rosaline. Me nephew will take good care of ye, I’m sure, and hopefully, ye willnae have to see too much of him.”
Caelan cracked a smile at his uncle’s words. He had always been unsure how to deal with him and found that agreeableness and distance were the best methods so far.
“We must get on,” he declared, not wishing for the exchange to go on any longer than it needed to. “But I shall see ye at the castle for our weekly meetin’ tomorrow, aye?”
“As always, son.”
With a nod, Caelan gave Miller a pat on the rump to proceed forward.
“Lovely to meet ye, Rosaline!” Harrison called from behind, and Caelan swore he could hear laughter follow.
