Page 17 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
But she met no other soul on her vengeful travels, astonished that no one else was wandering the halls, unable to sleep with that noise.
Eventually, she found herself in front of a thin, arched door at the end of a long hallway. She pressed her ear to the aged wood and knew she was not far now—thetap tap taphad returned, drifting through the door and right to her ear.
The handle turned with ease, and the door gave with a faint creak of old hinges, opening out onto a spiraling staircase. Torches illuminated the way, and a frayed rope curved up and up, providing some safety to anyone brave enough to climb such worrisome heights.
It did not help that the steps themselves had been worn smooth and uneven by decades—perhaps centuries—of feet.
At least if I plummet to me demise, I willnae have to listen to that noise anymore.
She held onto the rope for dear life, the stone slippery under her bare soles. But the more those irksome sounds drifted downward, the more she forgot her fear, letting her anger bolster her courage.
By the grace of God and the grip of her toes and hands, she made it to a platform at the very top of the staircase. A single door stood ahead of her, partially open, the infuriating tapping so loud that Cecilia had to stifle the desire to scream at the inconsiderate nature of it.
Taking a breath, her lungs sore with the exertion of the climb, she edged toward the partially open door and gently pushed against it with her shoulder. It did not make a sound as it swung open wider… which was more than could be said for the cause of her restless night.
What the…?
A figure sat hunched over a huge block of stone in the center of the room, tapping at it with a chisel and hammer.
Cecilia blinked in astonishment, deciding that the expanse of his naked, muscular back was thetruework of art. Indeed, itlooked as if it had been sculpted and carved by divine hands. His shoulders were so broad, the definition so complex and detailed that she did not know where to look first.
But it was also as if the sculptor had not been happy with their work, slashing silvery lines through the chiseled marble of his back. Scars, a lot of them, crisscrossing his skin at random—some small, some shockingly large, some clustered together. All over him.
With every impact of the hammer on the end of the chisel, the muscles in the back of his arms flexed and tightened, forming deep lines in the skin. Even his taut lower back rippled with the movement, tensing and relaxing in the most mesmerizing way.
I cannae exactly tell the Laird of this castle to stop now, can I?
She savored the moment, stepping further into the room in an attempt to see what he was creating. A smaller, clay figure stood on a stool beside him, but she could not tell what it was, as his bulky frame hid much of it from view.
Just then, a gust of wind blew through the room, knocking the door into her shoulder with such force that she could not hold back the hiss of pain that escaped her lips.
The chiseling stopped… and Cecilia’s heart leaped into her throat.
Slowly, Murdoch turned around, revealing his bare chest to her startled gaze. It was a thing of utter perfection, as muscular and broad and titillating as she had imagined at Paisley’s wedding. And so smooth that she had to clench her hands into fists to stifle the urge to touch his inviting skin.
“Ye have nay cause or right to be here,” he snarled, his gray eyes alight with fury.
“I… heard a noise,” she choked out. “I didnae ken what it was.”
“So ye thought ye’d creep through me castle like a thief ‘til ye found it?” His lip curled.
She shrugged hopelessly. “I couldnae sleep.”
“Then learn how,” he replied coldly. “I ken ye’re accustomed to doin’ as ye please, but there are rules ye must obey while ye’rein me castle—the most important one being that this tower is forbidden territory. Dinnae come here again.”
She backed away with her hands up, unsure why he was so insistent about hiding his endeavors. There did not seem to be anything else of value in the room. In truth, it was rather sparse. But if he was in the middle of creating something, surely the point was to have people see what he had crafted?
Nevertheless, she did not question it.
“I apologize, M’Laird. I didnae ken about that rule. I’ll leave ye be.”
She hurried out before he could decide on a more immediate form of punishment, running down the staircase as fast as her shaky legs would carry her.
Reaching the relative safety of the adjacent hallway, she paused to catch her breath. As she bent at the waist, sucking in great gulps of air, her mind wandered back up the stairs to Murdoch, who was stripped bare to the waist, making something with his powerful hands.
If I ever manage to sleep, that… exquisite back will be in me dreams.
She shook her head to dispel the unruly thought, knowing she could not afford to have any sort of fantasies about a man like that. A man who clearly did not want her there at all.
