Page 10 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
“Excellent!” Aileen did a funny little hop of excitement. “I must show ye around the castle right away—No, I said I would feed ye and water ye first, did I nae? Aye, that’s what we’ll do, and ye can tell me all about yerself and what possessed ye to come to this faraway corner of the Highlands in the middle of winter!” She paused. “What is yer aunt’s name, Cecilia?”
“Mairie.”
“A beautiful name.” Aileen sighed, before she shouted across the entrance hall, “Mairie, would ye join us?”
Cecilia’s aunt crept back into the room, frowning with uncertainty. “Me?”
“Aye, of course.” Aileen seemed positively giddy, making Cecilia wonder how often she had the opportunity to welcome guests. “I must ask what ye prefer to eat and drink and see if I can find a room that befits ye. I cannae choose rooms without meetin’ the occupant first. It’ll make me sound like a madwoman, but I have a knack for matchin’ the character of a person with the character of a bedchamber.”
Mairie smiled shyly as she approached. “Och, well, I expect a very stark and dull room, then.”
Aileen blinked… and burst into joyful laughter that seemed so out of place in the gloomy entrance hall of the similarly gloomy castle, watched over by its undeniably gloomy Laird.
“Och, I think we will get along famously,” Aileen said as her laughter ebbed, and she took Mairie by the arm. “Come now, to the… East Hall, I think. It is the smallest and warmest, with the largest fire. We shall be content there while the snow falls.”
Cecilia, pleased by the turn of events, was about to follow the older women toward the tempting heat of a fire and the promise of tea and something to eat when Murdoch grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.
She stumbled at the sudden jolt, her side slamming hard into his muscular chest. He was as solid as an oak, but she could not enjoy the closeness, her wrist throbbing where he held her.
“We didnae finish our conversation,” he hissed in her ear.
The commotion caused the two older women to turn around, both frowning at the sight.
“I wish to discuss somethin’ with Cecilia,” Murdoch replied to their wordless question. “Ye may leave us to warm yerselves. We willnae be long.”
Mairie looked like she was about to protest, but Aileen began to tug her away while reassuring her, “She couldnae be safer if she had a guard escort around her, I promise. Let us leave the young’uns to talk while we have ourselves a proper introduction, eh?”
Mairie hesitated, but, with a softer frown, she allowed herself to be led away by Aileen.
As they reached the archway of an adjacent hallway, however, Aileen turned and tossed a final remark back over her shoulder that surprised them all. “A word of comfort to ye, sweet Cecilia—if me hermit of a son doesnae want to entertain the thought of marryin’ ye, rest assured that I’ll help ye find another man.”
The look on Murdoch’s face as he watched his mother go could have slain an entire army with terror alone. And despite what she told herself, Cecilia was not as impervious as she thought.
I dinnae ken if I want to be alone with him right now…
But it appeared that she had little choice as he pulled her toward the opposite archway, apparently taking her as far from her aunt as possible.
CHAPTER 5
Murdoch did not knowwhere else to take Cecilia, but he was well aware that he could not keep having a stern discussion with her in the entrance hall. Although they tried to hide, he had been keenly aware that servants were trying to observe and eavesdrop, no doubt drawn by his mother’s intrusion.
She’s too bloody soft with them.
He fumed silently, pulling Cecilia down hallway after shadowed hallway, deciding on a room where no one would bother him. Not even his mother.
“Laird Moore?” Cecilia said quietly, making him pause for a moment.
“What?”
“Ye’re hurtin’ me.”
He dropped her wrist as if it were wrapped in thorns, realizing too late that his grip had been responding to his annoyance, squeezing harder than he had intended. “Will ye walk sensibly, and nae chatter or bother me?”
It wasnae me intention to take me frustration out on ye,was what he actually meant to say, but it would not come out. After all, it would be a partial lie. She had caused this situation, she had rewritten her tale for his mother, and now he would have to endure her presence for a week because she had—no doubt deliberately—timed their arrival to coincide with a snowstorm.
Cecilia shrugged. “Of course—I wouldnae ken how to walk any other way. Unless ye find me gait amusin’? When I was a bairn, me grandmaither used to say that I trotted around like a wee horse, but I’m fairly certain I’ve grown out of it.”
“What did I just say about chatterin’?” he growled, marching on down the hallway, confident that she would follow him. After all, she still needed something from him.
