Page 46 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
As such, he had to sit there, alone at the end of the feasting table, watching as Lennox took Cecilia’s hand in his and led her to the center of the dance floor. The other guests parted for them, and as the musicians struck up a lively tune, everyone gave the pair their full and rapt attention as they began to dance together.
Every time Lennox caught Cecilia by the waist to spin her around, every time he grabbed her hands to hop forward and back, every time he lifted her into the air and set her down again, every time he pulled her close and spun her away again, Murdoch’s anger burned fiercer and fiercer, transforming from smoldering embers of irritation to a blasting inferno of jealous rage.
Pouring more fuel on his fury were the wide grins that Lennox flashed her and the laughter that she rewarded him with in return, the two so at ease with one another that Murdoch could not bear it a moment longer.
He set his glass down on the table with such force that it shattered, shards scattering all over the wood. But the music was too loud for anyone to notice, their cheers of encouragement and delight ebbing only when he stalked down the side of the feasting table to reach the dance floor.
He cut in front of Lennox, wrapped his arm around Cecilia’s waist, and grabbed her hand, before beginning a series ofdizzying circles. His limbs were scrambling to remember the dance, for he had not performed it in years.
Cecilia faltered, looking up at him in bewilderment. To balance herself, she gripped the front of his shirt, her breath catching in her throat when he pulled her closer. A few guests around the dance floor started whispering.
Murdoch gazed right back at her, spinning her around and around to the swell of the music. It would fade soon, making way for the next dance, but he would not let her continue on in this manner. Guest of honor or not, she would not dance with other men inhiscastle.
I wish ye had never come. I wish ye had stayed in yer convent, behind those walls. I wish… things were simpler. I wish I could kiss ye, claim ye, let nay other man lay his hungry eyes on ye.
She clung tighter to him the faster he spun her. Her curls threatened to come loose from the slides and pins, her eyes gleaming and wild. But this was not the place for him to lose control—he had already lost too much of his discipline, and the staff would be talking for days about their Laird dancing, however briefly.
Still, he could not undo that. But he could remedy what came next.
Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “Meet me in the gardens after the song has ended.”
He did not wait for a reply, spinning her one last time before releasing her. Without another word, leaving his guests to cheer and applaud the dramatic conclusion of the dance, Murdoch left the Great Hall, certain that she would not dare to ignore him.
CHAPTER 20
“Ye cannae help yerself, can ye?”Cecilia called, hiking up her skirts as she ran to catch up to Murdoch.
He was already a good way ahead of her, and his strides were far longer than hers, but she would not be deterred. They were far enough from the Great Hall, and that was all that mattered.
And I was havin’ such a nice time, too.
There was nothing Cecilia loved more than gatherings, though she had not had much opportunity to enjoy them over the past eleven years. Still, she remembered them fondly from her childhood, and Paisley’s wedding had been one of the greatest nights of her life—a moment of true freedom that she had been chasing ever since.
“I’m talkin’ to ye!” she shouted, but Murdoch ignored her, marching down the labyrinth of hallways until a doorway spat him out into the gardens.
Even then, he did not slow down until he was out of sight of the castle windows, concealed by a row of thickly fronded fir trees.
“Ye cannae tell me to meet ye and then ignore me, Murdoch!” she fumed, hurrying across the last stretch to where he stood now, bathed in moonlight.
She did not consider it wise to meet with a man outside, alone, at night. Especially not one who had awakened things in her last night. But she was too overwrought to care about her safety. Besides, Murdoch would never harm her. She was certain of that if nothing else.
He did not turn around, his broad back facing her. And if she had not needed her shoes to protect her feet from the cold, wet grass, she would have hurled one at that expansive target.
“Am I nae allowed to have fun, is that it?” she accused.
“Ye were makin’ a show of yerself,” he replied evenly.
“How?” she sputtered, incredulous. “I was dancin’ at a cèilidh. That’s what ye’re supposed to do at cèilidhs, ye… ye oaf!”
His shoulders tensed. “Watch yer words, Cecilia.”
“I would, but I’m tired of doin’ so.” She puffed out a breath, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. “Do ye think I get chances like this often? Do ye think I get to wear beautiful gowns and dance and laugh and celebrate every day? I wasnae drunk, Iwasnae bein’ bawdy, I wasnae doin’ anythin’ wrong—but then ye came along and ruined it.”
He sniffed. “So, that little act wasnae to get me man-at-arms to help ye with yer list?”
“What?” She rolled her eyes, incensed and confused in equal measure. “Well, actually, dancin’wason me list, so I suppose yer man-at-arms did help cross it off.”
Murdoch bristled, and when he turned to look at her, there was fire in his eyes. “Ye’ve chosen nae to heed what I said in me tower?”
