Page 1 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
CHAPTER 1
Six Months Ago
“What are ye doin’here?” Paisley Callum, soon to be Lady Cairn, shrieked excitedly as Cecilia slunk into her bedchamber.
Cecilia grinned and put a finger to her lips. “Ye’ll summon the guards, yellin’ like that. And I’d rather nae be dragged back to the nuns kickin’ and screamin’ before I’ve had the chance to celebrate yer nuptials.”
She hurried over to where Paisley sat up in bed, picking at her breakfast, and climbed into bed with her and helped herself to a quarter piece of toast, thickly slathered with butter.
“How did ye get out?” Paisley whispered, putting her arms around her friend and hugging her tight. “I wasnae sure if ye’d be able to. Camden said he’d had words with yer aunt, but she wasnae willin’ to let ye out of the church for the occasion. Saidit wasnae seemly or somethin’ and kept remindin’ him that ye’re supposed to be aclosed order.”
“Och, if I had a coin for every time she said that, I’d be a wealthy lass, indeed,” Cecilia snorted. “She doesnae ken I’ve snuck out, and she’s nae goin’ to either. I left a note sayin’ I was goin’ to pick mushrooms. As long as I come back with a basket full of ‘em, she’ll nae question it.”
Paisley quirked an eyebrow. “Ye dinnae think yer aunt will ken it’s a lie?”
“Och nay, she’llundoubtedlyken it’s a lie, but she’ll prefer the fib to the truth, and after she’s sentenced me to hard labor for a couple of days, all will be forgiven.” Cecilia grinned, chewing happily.
It was good toast, far better than the convent’s measly daily breakfast of watery, oversalted porridge.
She leaned against her friend’s side, and the young women sighed in unison, sending them both into a fit of giggles. A lot had changed since they’d first met eleven years ago, dumped at the convent within days of each other. They had immediately bonded over their newness and their fear of being in unfamiliar surroundings, with no idea of when they might be able to leave again. If ever.
Paisley was three years older than Cecilia, but Cecilia liked to think they had shared the role of replacement older sister—she offered up the wisdom of the world to Paisley, and Paisleyworried over her when she had pushed those worldly boundaries a little too far.
“Ye’re gettin’ married,” Cecilia murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “Ye’re goin’ to be a Lady. Och, and he’s more handsome than any of the shepherd boys I’ve met. If I wasnae yer dearest friend, I’d be sick with envy.”
Paisley paused, glancing at her with something akin to concern. “Ye’re nae, are ye? Ye mustnae be.”
“Of course nae!” Cecilia waved a dismissive hand. “I couldnae be happier. Ye’re a lucky lass, Pais. And who kens—maybe I’ll find meself a Laird to throw me over his shoulder and steal me away from the convent at the festivities later. Ye’d best believe I’ll be keepin’ an eye out for such a man.”
After the fire that had ravaged the convent, the nuns had moved—at Camden’s insistence—to a church in a nearby village. Temporarily, of course, until the convent could be rebuilt. But without the cloisters and the high walls of the convent to give the illusion of a prison, Cecilia had become even more restless with the entire idea of taking vows and being stuck in that place forever.
If an opportunity presented itself to ensure she never had to go back there, she could not promise that she would not seize it with both hands.
“So, if ye ken of any,” she added with a smirk, “make sure ye push ‘em into me path tonight. Och, and I’ll need to borrow adress. I cannae very well attend yer weddin’ or the celebrations after in me novice’s clothin’. It rather gives me away.”
Paisley smiled. “I ken the perfect one.”
“Man or dress?”
“Dress,” Paisley replied with a thoughtful frown. “Ye’ll have to let me think about the other.”
Cecilia swallowed the last bite of her toast. “Nay, I’ve changed me mind—ye just think about how ridiculously happy ye’re goin’ to be.” She rested her head against Paisley’s. “That’s me only wish for ye, for as long as ye both shall live. But I hope he kens that if he does a single thing to upset ye, I’ll be at his heels like a dog with a bone.”
Paisley laughed, her giddy smile a balm to Cecilia’s restlessness. “I’ll tell him, though I hope it doesnae scare him off.”
“If it does, he’s nae the man for ye,” Cecilia replied, putting an arm around her friend and hugging her close, savoring the last moments of their sisterhood and praying silently that not too much would change.
The convent had been bearable for all those years because of Paisley. Even the last month of her absence had been bearable because Cecilia had known her best friend would eventually come back, but that foray into the outside world was permanentnow. Without her, Cecilia did not know what to do—finally take her vows or damn it all.
Sipping a cup of heady, honey-rich mead that, ironically, had been sent as a wedding gift from the nuns, Cecilia jabbed Paisley lightly in the ribs, whispering, “Who isthatbroodin’ bear?”
“Who?” Paisley shouted above the din of the musicians and their lively tune.
Cecilia rolled her eyes and laughed. “Discretion, Pais. Discretion!”
“Sorry.” Paisley chuckled behind her hand. “Who are we lookin’ at?”
“Him.” Cecilia subtly tilted her head toward the far side of the Great Hall, to a shadowed corner where a lone figure sipped his drink with all the displeasure of someone trying to become impervious to a particular kind of bitter poison.
