Page 14 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
“Nay more from ye devils,” Eliza said, the words being spoken aloud breaking through her wandering, terrifying imagination.
She threw her legs over the side of the bed; the stone of her chambers were cold beneath her feet, and the shock helped to clear some of the frustration from her mind.
Glancing at the clock on the mantle of the unlit fireplace, she found the time to be near two in the morning.
Seems I willnae be gettin’ sleep tonight.
She couldn’t take another moment locked within the confines of her room.
Glancing at the door, Eliza sent up a quick, hurried prayer.
Please daenae let Eliot be on the other side of that door.
Stepping lightly across the stone floor, Eliza let out a sigh of relief when she pulled it open and found the corridor beyond empty.
She walked through the hallway, she found herself once again entranced by the items decorating the wall. Without thinking about it, Eliza allowed her fingertips to trail across the stone, humming slightly to herself as she did so.
“I doubt the laird even kens some of these paintings exist”she said to herself, observing everything around her.
She stopped to stare into the eyes of stuffed beasts in between her admiration of the art, wondering what their deadened eyes might have seen.
I wonder how many of ye were killed by the laird. Was it fittin’, for a Beast to end a beast?
Eliza didn’t know how long she had walked for. She was so lost in her thoughts of the art and the finery around her that time had begun to lose its meaning.
It was only when she turned a corner and a light flickering from a door left ajar that finally, her attention was taken away from the art decorating the castle walls.
She crept forward on silent feet, peering through the door's crack. A small, startled gasp escaped her when she saw what was on the other side of it.
It seemed to be a drawing room, with plush couches and chairs decorating the space. A fire crackling in the hearth on the far side of the room was immediately identifiable as the source of the light that had first grabbed her attention.
In the center of the room was a large easel, a canvas placed upon it. And while all those things were quite beautiful and worthy of attention on their own, it was the person in front of the canvas that caused her gasp of surprise.
Laird MacKinnon sat on a stool in the center of the room, broad shoulders bent as he swiped a brush across a slowly filling canvas. Even at a distance, it wasn’t hard for Eliza to make out the details of what he was creating.
It was a lovely landscape depicting a lake, children splashing within the water’s depths as they laughed. Mothers walked along the shores, dipping their toes into the water as their bairns rejoiced.
Even unfinished, the painting was beautiful. There was also something familiar in the style of it, the way that the brushstrokes danced amongst the paint nagging at the back of her mind.
He painted the art on the walls.
The thought flickered through her mind lightning quick, but now that it had planted itself within her, Eliza couldn’t shake the truth of it. She could see the similarities in some of the paintings that she’d been admiring recently, especially the landscapes that she had found so breathtaking.
Eliza took an involuntary step forward, wanting to see more of what he’d been painting. As she did, her shoulder brushed against the door, causing it to creak loudly, announcing her presence.
Laird MacKinnon didn’t turn to look at her; he didn’t even pause as he swiped his brush across the canvas. He did, however, speak to her.
“Ye might as well come in if ye’re goin’ to linger.”
Eliza considered his words for a moment, wondering if it might be better to just turn and try to find her way back to her rooms. But she didn’t want to.
Now that she had moved forward a little bit, she could see more of the room. And if she had been awestruck a moment before, it was nothing compared to what Eliza felt in that moment as she took a little bit more of it in.
The canvas the Laird was currently working on wasn’t the only one in the room. There were too many to count, all of them in various stages of finished.
The one thing they all had in common, though, was that each one was absolutely stunning in its own right.
“Who would have thought the Beast of the MacKinnons would paint so beautifully?”
