Page 5 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
“Nae fair, eh?”
She hadn’t meant to offend him. Clearly, the unfairness of the match had been in his favor, as he did not succumb.
Rosaline opened her mouth to retort, to explain that she had only meant unfairness in number rather than in strength, when a distant voice yelled, “Well, she cannae be anywhere else, so we must try!”
The words were faint, but Rosaline could just about make them out because of the familiarity of the voice. Mother Denise had guessed her plan and was heading in her direction. They were coming for her.
She quickly collected herself and began to look for another hiding spot. She had forgotten herself, distracted by the handsome warrior and the tension of the fight.
Rosaline had her own battle to fight today, and she had been foolish to dally for long. She had to move away and stay hidden.
The clearing was altogether too… flat. Other than a few sparse shrubs, there was nothing to conceal her out here. She had torunto the other side of the loch, where thick trees and greenery would conceal her while she continued onwards.
She made a move for the far side of the loch, dodging past Caelan’s large form, when a hand caught her by the waist.
She froze, half from the force of his soft grip, half from shock. Her skin broke out in goosebumps at his touch, and in so intimate a place as the curve of her waist, just where her ribs ended before her hips flared out. His forearm banded across her stomach, and his face was mere inches from hers.
Her breath caught. Another person to harm and control her.
“Let me go,” she hissed, managing to find her voice despite her panic.
She could not let the nuns take her back to the convent. The punishment they would mete out for escaping, and during a mass, would surely kill her. Nothing in the world could be worse than returning there.
She struggled against the warrior, but his grip stayed strong.
“Please, ye have to let me go. Ye dinnae understand,” she pleaded, keeping her voice as calm as she could, holding back her tears.
“Where are ye goin’, bunny?” Caelan asked, his voice gravelly and deep as it dropped.
She felt his breath fan her skin, trickling down her earlobe and neck. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and a sigh escaped her.
“Hurry! She couldnae have gone far!” Mother Denise’s voice was quickly drawing closer.
Rosaline clawed at Caelan’s forearm, trying to pry it off her so she could run, but he was too strong.
“Are they huntin’ ye?” he asked.
She nodded, this time pleading with her eyes, still trying to wrench free.
“Please, I cannae go back there.” She could hear pounding footsteps now as the nuns trampled quickly through the forest in her direction. “Ye have to help me.”
“All right, all right,” Caelan relented, finally loosening his grip a little.
He did not understand the urgency—he couldn’t. He had no idea what she had been through at the convent. He was going to be the reason she had to go back.
“I’ll help ye.”
Rosaline looked up at him, shocked. Her eyes widened as she searched his face for truth. Was he serious? How could he help her?
“Ye will?” she asked.
“Aye. From one Highlander on the run to another. Ye just have to do somethin’ for me in return.”
Here we go.
He probably wanted her to lie with him, or for her to become his servant for the rest of her days. Nonetheless, few things could be worse than life with the nuns.
So, she awaited his proposal.
