Page 35 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
Caelan rose slowly from between her legs and came to lie beside her, pulling the furs over them both. He tucked a strand of hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear and made sure that she was covered and warm, nestling close.
“I’m glad the audience is pleased.” He smiled. “But that was only the first act.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Rosaline awoke to the sound of soft snoring, purring away as the birds started to chirp at the sight of the morning sun. She wasn’t ready to open her eyes, but she stirred, nestling further into the comfort. It was only when her cheek brushed skin, rather than linen, that she remembered where she had fallen asleep, and her eyes shot open.
Oh me goodness.
She had to fight her instincts not to leap from her resting place. Her body was wrapped in Caelan’s arms, her head resting on his muscular bicep. His body was entirely pressed against hers under the thick furs.
Rosaline immediately began to search for her clothes with her eyes and devised a plan to retrieve them without waking him, so that his sober gaze would not see her naked body.
She spotted her dress hanging from a branch in a nearby tree, her underskirt and slip beside it. It fluttered gently in the morning breeze, and she hoped the early sun had dried it for their journey home. Any worries of the fabric becoming see-through had not crept up in the dark of night, but the morning light could be a concern.
She took a deep breath to calm herself and caught Caelan’s natural morning scent. It was musky, earthy, and manly. There was a warmth to him that often emanated from kind, loving people. Rosaline hoped that her instincts about him had been right. She had given him everything now—her story, her name, her body. He had better not use it against her.
Slowly, she edged forward, bit by bit, using the silence she acquired at the convent to move without waking a soul. She extricated herself from his limbs and the furs, and when she was finally out of his grasp, she stood up. She moved quickly but still quietly to the tree and whipped her slip over her head as fast as she could. When she heard Caelan begin to stir, she decided to abandon the underskirt and go straight for the dress, which she was just finishing lacing up by the time his eyes fluttered open.
“Mornin’,” he croaked, perhaps feeling the effects of the mead from the night before.
“Good mornin’,” Rosaline replied in her most courteous tone.
She wanted to return to polite camaraderie. No lengthy conversation would be encouraged. She had too much to think about for the moment.
He sat up slowly, and the furs fell from his torso to rest at his waist. With his back slightly curved, the neat rows of his abdomen rippled into view, and the muscles of his chest bulged. His shoulders, holding the weight of his upper half, were broad and strong.
Rosaline had to force herself to look away. All the beautiful parts of him that her hands had explored the night before were now visible in the morning sun. She was sure her cheeks were red, so she turned away, pretending to gaze into the woods.
She heard Caelan rise, and she kept her gaze averted as he dressed behind her.
“Ye dinnae need to give me privacy, lass. I think we’re past that now.”
Her cheeks flushed further at his words, and she scrambled to come up with a reply.
“I’m watchin’ the birds,” she squeaked.
Caelan stifled a laugh behind her but continued to dress nonetheless, and was soon packing the furs back into sacks and draping them over Miller’s back.
“We’ll take him to the river to drink and then head back to the castle. Whoever chased us last night will have fled by now.”
Rosaline was happy with the plan, despite having to head back to the water. Her fear was certainly reduced, but it was hard to completely get rid of it. Regardless, she just wanted to head back to the castle. She needed time alone to think everything over.
They walked Miller to the river, Rosaline trailing slightly behind for both fear of the water and conversation, and she was relieved that Caelan let her do so without question. She wondered if he had regrets too.
Once the horse had drunk his fill, Caelan lifted her onto his back and jumped up to sit behind her as usual.
As they trotted back in the direction of the castle, she felt the tension in both of their bodies. Neither uttered a word, other than when Caelan checked that she was warm enough, and soon the castle came back into view. The grounds were quiet—likely a slow morning after yesterday’s festival—and Rosaline was grateful.
“I ought to go wash meself and change into a clean dress,” she said, excusing herself as soon as she dismounted Miller.
“All right, lass.” Caelan nodded, steering Miller back to the stables for morning oats.
Rosaline rushed inside the castle, sure that everyone would notice that she was in the same clothes as yesterday and somehow see the sin on her skin. It should never have happened, as they were not yet married, and she felt that everyone around would be able to tell.
As she hurried up the stairs, she saw feet descending but was unable to look up to identify their owner. In the end, she had no choice, as the owner of those feet grabbed her arm as they passed.
Rosaline flinched at first, reminded of the nuns’ scolding, but when she saw that it was Michaela who had caught her, she softened.
