Page 74 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
Cecilia’s stomach dropped, her heart leaping into her throat, her eyes welling with sudden tears. As she looked at Murdoch, she saw the terrified child he had once been, expecting a father’s love but receiving nothing but a permanent scar. She wanted to go to him and embrace him, hold him tightly, but as she took another step forward, he moved away.
She remembered something Paisley had said during her wedding celebrations.
“I dinnae think he looks like he’s nay fun. I think he looks like someone who has been through…a great deal. Ye dinnae end up that way if ye’ve had a happy life, ye ken?”
Lennox had also said something similar, alluding to the fact that Murdoch had been through a lot.
Of coursehe was cold and dismissive and did not smile or laugh. Who would, when they had been through something like that? And being branded was likely just a tidbit of what he had suffered at his father’s hands. Aileen, too.
“Is that why ye keep pushin’ me away?” she asked softly, for he was doing it right now, putting up his walls. “Is that why ye never wanted to marry and why ye dinnae want to have bairns of yer own?”
Murdoch turned his back on her. “Me faither’s line ends with me. I willnae risk passin’ his madness on to me bairns or subjectin’ me bairns to a similar fate if his madness catches up to me.”
“But ye wouldnae do that,” Cecilia argued, approaching him with caution. “I wasnae scared of ye—I amnaescared of ye because I ken ye’re a good man.”
When she touched his shoulder, he flinched and walked away from her. “I’m nae a good man. Do ye think me clan would be so afraid of me if I was? I can be a good laird, aye, but I willnae be a faither. I wouldnae give me faither the satisfaction of havin’ any sort of legacy. As I said, his bloodline ends with me.”
She stared at the back of his head, trying to make sense of what he was saying. In truth, it did not sound like he thought his father’s madness was contagious, but more like he wished to have vengeance in any way that he could. The former, she could have accepted. The latter, it angered her. It felt too much like giving up, and not at all like Murdoch.
“Well, I think ye’re a fool if ye’d rather get revenge on a dead man than have a future with me, where ye might just find that ye can be happy,” she said curtly. “I think ye’re a fool for nae wantin’ to get yer revenge bybein’happy and by nae bein’ the faither that yers was. But what do I ken? Ye willnae even believe me when I say I’m nae the least bit afraid of ye.”
Murdoch kept his back to her, saying nothing.
“I think ye should leave and think long and hard about what true justice looks like,” she continued. “Until me residence is ready, I’ll be stayin’ with Paisley. If ye dinnae want me at yer side, I willnae force ye.”
He turned, refusing to look at her, not saying a word as he walked past her and left the healer’s quarters. He was pushing her away again, and, this time, she feared it might be for good.
If only there was a tonic or medicinal tea to erase what ye’ve been through…
Her heart sank as the door shut behind him, leaving her alone once again. She might have been gifted in the art of persuasion, but she could not undo a wretched childhood that had already shaped him into the man he was.
Some things simply could not be changed. Yet, she hoped,prayedthat distance would not tear them apart, but somehow bring them together again.
CHAPTER 32
It had beena week since Murdoch almost lost his wife to George MacGill’s devious scheme, and just shy of a week since she had left him. The entirety of the castle was walking on eggshells, unsure who might be on the receiving end of their Laird’s wrath next, not knowing what mood they might find him in, though none were pleasant.
If she thinks I’m goin’ to fetch her back, she can think again.
Murdoch squashed another clay sculpture underneath his palm. He had been trying for days to get it right, to replicate Cecilia’s figure, but something kept going wrong, his memories of her not nearly as reliable as having her there as a muse.
Her keep had been ready for days, and though he was fully aware that a letter would have sufficed to bring her back, he had not written it. In many ways, he figured that shewouldbe better off in the company of friends, around those who could keep her safeandcoax that rich, glorious laugh out of her every day.
Footsteps hurried up the staircase outside his tower, and the last thread of his patience snapped.
“I’m goin’ to lock the downstairs door from now on!” he barked as the door opened.
“Aye, ye might nae want to do that,” Lennox replied. “There’s somethin’ ye should see.”
Murdoch turned around more quickly than he had intended, his heart fluttering. Had Cecilia returned?
He could not ask the question, but Lennox seemed to read his mind, shaking his head.
“A soldier attacked a group of our scouts, M’Laird,” he said. “AMacDunnsoldier. He was captured, and he’s awaitin’ yer judgment in the dungeons.”
In the confusion and turmoil of Cecilia’s absence, Murdoch had almost forgotten about MacDunn. But he remembered now. He jumped up from his stool with vengeful purpose and walked toward Lennox, leaving the squashed lump of clay behind.
“Ye dinnae want to wear a shirt?” Lennox asked, quirking an eyebrow.
