Page 16 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
“Och, and I cannae forget the day she snuck out of the church we were stayin’ at and came swayin’ back at three o’clock in the mornin’. She thought she was sly, and I assume she thought she was being perfectly quiet, but there wasnae a single thing she didnae knock off when she climbed back in through the storage room window. Unfortunately for us, they were all jars of preserves that had moldered, so there was rancid jam everywhere.”
“Ye said a cat got in!” Cecilia protested, not embarrassed by her stories being told to Aileen, but rather admiring her aunt’s determination to cover up her wayward antics. “If I’d kenned it was me clumsy self, I’d have scrubbed that floor ‘til it shone!”
Mairie smiled. “Aye, but ye were happy, and I didnae have the heart to scold ye. I ken what Paisley means to ye, and I ken things havenae been the same without her. Laird Cairn gained a wife, aye, but ye lost the constant presence of a lass who was practically a sister to ye.”
“Is that why ye want to marry, me dear?” Aileen chimed in, clasping her hands in delight.
How do I say that that’s naewhat I want when she’s bein’ so kind?
Cecilia did not want to tell any more fibs to the lovely woman.
Fortunately, Mairie started recounting another story, as if she somehow knew that Cecilia was not ready to answer such a question.
“The best one of all, that even I nearly laughed out loud at, was when she dressed one of the donkeys in a fine gown—I still dinnae ken where she got it—and put a hat and a straw wig on the sweet beast. She painted a pair of pouty red lips on some wood and got the donkey to hold it, then came running through the convent, crying out that Royalty was coming.
“Well, ye can imagine how excited we all were, thinkin’ someone grand had come to visit us at last. But when Cecilia opened the convent doors, there it was—the donkey, saunterin’ in like it was well aware of its part in me niece’s theatrical. Bein’ Maither Superior, it wouldnae have been right for me to laugh—but it took all the prayer and discipline I possessed, let me tell ye.”
Aileen burst into rich, wholehearted laughter, while Mairie laughed along with her, gasping every time she tried to add some detail to the story, unable to get the words out.
Cecilia watched her aunt, a little saddened that she had never known that Mairie found her ‘theatrical’ just as amusing. Back then, she had been soundly scolded for the trick, not a hint of a smile to be found anywhere on her aunt’s face.
If nothin’ else comes of this, I’m glad I got to see ye so… free, Aunt Mairie.
Indeed, Cecilia almost did not want her aunt to return to the convent either, not if this was what she was like outside those prison-like walls.
“But she seems so… innocent!” Aileen snorted. “I cannae believe she was capable of such creative japes!”
“Somehow, I’m nae at all surprised,” a deep voice bellyached from across the room, as low and alarming as a predator’s roar.
Cecilia whipped around, the air leaving her lungs as she set eyes on Murdoch. Every time she saw him, she forgot just how monstrous he was—not in his appearance, but in his height and breadth and muscles—as if her mind could not comprehend such a bear of a man.
“Murdoch!” Aileen seemed unperturbed by his sudden arrival. “Have ye decided to join us for dinner? We’ve mostly finished, but we can have our puddin’ while ye have yers.”
Murdoch’s steely eyes fixed on Cecilia, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he turned and left, his voiceechoing down the hallway beyond, demanding a bath be drawn by someone out there.
“I guess nae,” Aileen said, her voice a tad too cheerful, as if she, too, was disappointed that he would not be joining them.
CHAPTER 7
“What the devil is that racket?”Cecilia groaned, pressing the sides of her pillow harder against her ears.
She had retired to her guest chambers hours ago, sleepy from the delicious meal she had enjoyed. Slumber had come the instant her head had hit that same pillow, her dreams just about to form, but an hour later, she had been jolted from her deep sleep by a loud, clanking sound.
The sound had not stopped since then; it had only changed slightly, shifting from that gratingclank clankto an even more jarringtap tap tapthat seemed to hammer on the inside of her skull. Now and then, she had thought it was about to end, only to be replaced by some ungodly shriek that sounded a lot like metal being sharpened, before the clanking and tapping started anew.
“Nay, this is useless,” she muttered, hurling the pillow at the foot of the luxurious, four-poster bed that she had dearly been looking forward to sleeping an entire night in.
When I find ye, whoever ye are, ye’re goin’ to feel the full wrath of a lass who has spent eleven years sleepin’ on the cold, hard ground.
Bristling with irritation, she threw back the furs and blankets and winced at the icy kiss of the floor against the soles of her bare feet.
Snatching her cloak off the back of the writing desk chair, she buttoned it at her neck, not bothering to change into anything more appropriate than her shift. Then, she grabbed a lantern and headed out in search of the wretch who had disrupted her peace.
Having been responsible for the safety of the convent sheep for many a year, she had developed a keen ear for following sounds and knowing which direction they were coming from. Admittedly, they were usually bleats and the jingle of the bells around the sheep’s necks, but that incessant clanging and banging barely presented a challenge to her sharp hearing.
She tiptoed down cold hallways, the hazy glow of her lantern spilling a pool of warm light onto the flagstones, and ducked into corners and doorways if she thought she heard someone coming. She crept across crossroads, where more corridors branched off, pausing briefly to ensure she was going in the right direction.
Where is everyone? If I could just find a servant, they might be able to tell me what that din is.
