Page 13 of The Villain
“How fares my little dove?” he teased, folding his hands behind his back and giving her a once-over with his eyes.
“Tired of staring at these four walls,” she confessed.
He nodded. “I assumed as much. I’ve come to give you a tour of Dunnottar, should you be amenable.”
“Yes,” she agreed quickly, choosing to be grateful for the chance to walk freely instead of annoyed by the company she’d be forced to keep.
She could not avoid him for the entirety of her stay if she wished to earn the promised thirty thousand pounds, so she might as well accept the fact that she’d be forced to cater to his whims. Perhaps acquiescing instead of fighting would earn her better treatment.
“Excellent,” he said, standing aside and gesturing toward the open door. “Shall we?”
She moved past him as swiftly as she could, her shoulder brushing against the door frame as she tried to avoid walking too close to him. After his unpredictable behavior this morning, she half expected to be pounced upon, dragged to the bed, and ravished.
But no. He had assured her he had no interest in taking her maidenhead quickly. He would prolong the act, leaving her wondering exactly when she could expect him to ruin her.
It was far more frightening than the prospect of being pounced upon, dragged to the bed, and ravished. At least if he did those things, it could be done with swiftly. This game would wear on her before long, the wait becoming unbearable. She would need to steel herself for the days to come. Thus far, he had managed to disarm her in a matter of minutes, and it was only the first day.
“Come,” he commanded, turning left to guide her down the corridor.
The directive bristled along her spine, stirring her ire at him. Yet, she said nothing about the way he’d barked the order at her as if she were a dog. Desperate for some exercise—even if it was only a walk through the massive castle—she pressed her lips together and fell in line.
“Are you familiar with the history of Dunnottar?” he asked as they neared the main hall.
“I’m afraid not,” she replied, turning in a slow circle to take in the light streaming through large stained-glass windows.
The colored glass sent rainbow prisms dancing across the stone floor while the rich tapestries adorning the walls filled what might have otherwise been a dreary room with rich bursts of color. It looked like the sort of place where a king might hold court, and she could imagine a large throne against the far wall.
Adam stood beside her, hands folded behind his back, seeming content to let her take it all in. “In the beginning, there was only a chapel here upon the rocky headland. St. Ninian founded it sometime in the fifth century. No one is quite sure when it became a fortified keep, but over time, walls went up and additions to the property came and went, some eventually torn down to create better ones.”
“That would explain the assortment of outbuildings I passed on my way in last night,” she replied.
“Quite right,” he said. “One thing that never changed … Dunnottar has always been one of the most impregnable fortresses in all of Scotland. The sheer cliffs and the flatlands around it ensured no one could approach unseen, and they would have a steep climb to the gates. There are only two ways in or out—the front gate, which would make raiders vulnerable to attack from all sides, and an underground tunnel on the northern side.”
Her eyes widened at the thought of being able to explore the underground entrance. She’d always read of places like Dunnottar in her novels—dark, gothic castles filled with mysterious secret passages. Adam’s home seemed like a place from a dream.
“How utterly fascinating,” she said.
Feeling his stare on the side of her face, she turned to meet his gaze. He studied her in silence, his face inscrutable, his eyes betraying none of his thoughts. Almost as if he wondered whether her interest could be real, or feigned in order to gain his good favor.
“I think I’d like to see the tunnel,” she added sincerely.
He gave a curt nod. “Perhaps another time. There’s more for me to show you. Come.”
This time, she was happy to follow as he led her toward another corridor stretching in the opposite direction.
“Dunnottar has changed hands many times over the years,” he continued as they walked. “During King William the Lion’s reign, it was the administrative center of Kincardineshire. It fell to King Edward I at one time, only for it to be snatched away from him a year later by Sir William Wallace.”
“Sir William Wallace,” she repeated. “The knight who led the rebellions during the war for Scottish independence?”
Pausing near a closed door, Adam turned to her and smiled. “The lady knows her history. Aye, the very same Sir Wallace. Dunnottar would not fall back into the possession of the English until 1336. Sometime in the sixteenth century, it was granted to the Keith family—the Earls Marischal—by King James the fifth. It remained the seat of the Marischal for over one hundred years. During that time, the keep was transformed into the lavish palace you stand in now. I’ve had a bit of work done to refurnish much of the place, but have kept it mostly the way I found it.”
He opened the first door to reveal a large library, each wall covered in shelves upon shelves of books. A hearth remained cold, but she could imagine the space becoming quite cozy with a crackling fire casting light and warmth into the room.
“So many books,” she murmured as she glanced about the large space. “Our library at Fairchild House could fit inside this one several times over.”
“If you ever wish to visit and read, inform Maeve … she will see to it that the hearth is lit,” he said.
Following him back into the corridor, she smiled. “That is generous of you, Adam. Thank you.”
