Page 15 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
Before he could receive a harsher scolding, Lennox darted down the hallway to pass on the message to Fiona. She would probably be annoyed that she had come all that way in the cold just to be dismissed, but that was none of Murdoch’s concern.
Thinking twice about heading to his study, Murdoch turned and made his way back up the staircase to the tower. Perhaps sculpting Cecilia out of his mind wasexactlywhat he needed, before she disrupted more of his life than she already had.
“I find there’s nothin’ so heartenin’ as a hot bath and a full belly on a winter night,” Aileen declared, raising her cup of spiced wine to the other two ladies.
Cecilia raised hers in return, basking in the cheerful spirit of the older woman. Indeed, she wanted to tell Aileen how much she reminded her of her grandmother, but she did not want to appear rude.
Mairie raised her cup too, clinking it against Aileen’s. “We’re so very grateful for yer hospitality,” she said, looking more relaxed than Cecilia had seen her in… well, eleven years. “I couldnae imagine havin’ to walk back to the convent in so much snow. We’d get lost in an instant, and I doubt there’d be anyone on the road who’d take us there.”
Aileen sipped her wine. “Howdidye manage to reach these solitary hills? It’s nae a place people stumble upon often, and even fewerchooseto come here of their own volition.” A sad note crept into her voice, but she shook it off. “Still, I’m pleased I have the pair of ye to fuss over.”
“I took the old vegetable cart,” Mairie explained. “We left it and the donkeys at The Vines—do ye ken of it?”
Aileen nodded. “Aye, there isnae a finer inn on this side of the Highlands. Nay one will steal yer donkeys there.”
“That’s a relief to hear.” Mairie smiled. “The innkeeper said that the roads would be too treacherous for beasts that dinnae ken the terrain, so we walked the rest of the way.”
Aileen nodded sagely. “He was wise too, considerin’ the weather and the lack of good daylight at this time of year. I cannae even bear the thought of ye bein’ stuck in a ditch somewhere.”
Could it be possible, after all these years, that me aunt has made a friend?Cecilia observed the exchange with pleased interest, hoping that her aunt’s good mood would last. Mairie was always so busy at the convent, wearing a perpetually harried expression. It was nice to see just ‘Mairie’ for a change, instead of Mother Superior.
“Is the Laird nae joinin’ us?” Cecilia asked during a slight lull in the conversation.
Aileen swallowed a mouthful of bread, thickly buttered. “Heavens, nay. He prefers to dine alone.” She paused, worry creasing her brow. “Och, but I should have insisted that he join us. It has been so long since anyone has been here—I do apologize for his absence. Tomorrow, I will ask him to join us.”
“Nay need,” Cecilia replied with a reassuring smile. “I was merely curious.”
She concentrated on the last piece of roast venison on her plate, hoping Aileen would not notice anything amiss.
Cecilia had never been prone to blushing and was notoriously difficult to embarrass, but when she thought about Murdoch bending over the back of her chair, his breath fanning her skin, itdidunleash the faintest, most unusual tingle.
And now he wants me to be some manner of informant, though I ken nothin’, and I doubt he’ll keep his end of the bargain.
She stabbed the chunk of venison and mopped up the glossy blackberry sauce, before popping it, dripping, into her mouth. It was foolish, but she felt betrayed, somehow.
“I do apologize for me son’s… less-than-friendly demeanor,” Aileen continued. “Did ye have a… successful discussion earlier?”
Cecilia shrugged. “I dinnae ken if I would call it successful. He insists that I was mistaken, and he doesnae wish to be wed.” She glanced at Mairie, realizing that what she was saying might not make sense. “I believe itwasa case of mistaken identity. I heard things, believed them to be true, and now we have come all this way for naught.”
She would have to tell Mairie the humiliating truth, and soon, but she did not want to do so at the dinner table, with Aileen present. It was a conversation best left to later, when aunt and niece could be alone.
“Aye, well, I meant what I said,” Aileen said. “I can easily find ye another prospect. In truth, yer arrival has inspired me in a way I havenae been inspired for years—I think it’s time we hosteda cèilidh at Castle Moore. Once the snow has stopped and the roads are clear, I’d like to honor the two of ye and, at the same time, invite many eligible bachelors so that ye might have yer pick, Cecilia.”
Cecilia did not like the idea of having a cèilidh thrown in her honor, for she had done nothing to deserve it, but shedidlike the idea of a cèilidh being held inAileen’shonor.
She said as much, smiling warmly at the older woman. “It seems ye’ve been waitin’ for a reason, M’Lady, and what better reason than yerself?”
“Och, ye’re too modest.Beautyshould be celebrated, nae a crone like me,” Aileen argued merrily, halting as she caught Mairie’s eye. “Of course, if ye wish to return to the convent, then I suppose it wouldnae be appropriate.”
Mairie chuckled into her cup. “I dinnae like to speak for others, but I daresay that is the very last thing me niece wants.” Her eyes shone with affection as she turned them toward Cecilia. “She never wanted to be a novice, much less a nun. Och, when she first arrived at the convent, I thought me maither had left a changelin’ on the doorstep!”
“She was a hellion?” Aileen asked, propping her chin on her palm, eager and attentive.
“Was?Och, there’s nay past tense about it,” Mairie replied, laughing more boldly. “I remember, a few years ago, while we were in the middle of prayer—silent prayer, ye understand—sheset the loudest goat we have loose in the chapel. It shrieked with such vigor that at least one nun fainted with the shock of it.”
Cecilia gaped at her aunt. “How do ye ken it was me?”
“I’m nae as oblivious as ye think, Cecilia,” Mairie replied, a twinkle in her eyes. “And there was the time she was makin’ candles and poured what eventually smelled like liquid fish into the wax—it reeked of rotten mackerel formonths.The convent would probably still smell a little fishy if it wasnae for the fire, sothere’sa small mercy.
