Page 13 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #4)

CHAPTER 13

“Laird Moore?”

That voice and the accompanying knock on the study door jolted Murdoch out of his exhausted stupor.

He sat bolt upright, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “I didnae summon ye,” he growled, half wondering if, in his fatigue, he had.

“I ken, but I need to speak with ye,” Cecilia’s voice replied, dashing any hopes he might have had of having a peaceful morning with no interruptions.

He had not slept last night either, his mind filled with wretched visions of her entangled on the hunting cabin floor with Lennox. He had chiseled and hammered away at the block of marble in his tower until dawn, so invested in the piece, in getting every curve and contour right, that he had not noticed the time slipping away from him. With the dawn, he had stolen a few hours of restless slumber in his tower, but they were not nearly enough to maintain him.

“Come in then,” he replied curtly, bracing himself for the sight of her.

He had heard from his mother that Cecilia had not attended luncheon or dinner the previous day, preferring to take a tray in her bedchamber. A headache, apparently, which was another reason he had barely slept, concerned that he might have gotten her to the hunting cabin too late to draw the cold out of her bones.

But she entered with color in her cheeks and vitality in her eyes, not making so much as a sniffle.

Did Lennox put that pink in yer cheeks? Is it because of him that ye have that spark in yer eyes?

An odd sensation, not quite anger but close to it, slithered up from his belly and tightened his chest. He should not have cared at all, but the lack of sleep had clearly addled his sense of reason and logic.

“Be quick about it,” he commanded, gesturing to the chair opposite.

She did not sit, choosing to stand beside the chair instead. “I spent yesterday heedin’ yer instructions.”

“Pardon?” He frowned at her, waiting for the trick.

“Ye said that I should write down everythin’ I could remember about Laird MacDunn and the clan,” she continued, quieter than he was accustomed to. “That is what I’ve done.”

She took a folded square of paper out of the pocket of her dress and held it against her chest, drawing his eye to her bosom. She was not wearing the habit of a novitiate today, but a simple dress of dark red wool that complemented her dark hair. She had braided it into a bun and covered it with a scrap of cloth, but two wavy locks framed her face.

“But I’m nae just givin’ this to ye,” she added, her expression hardening.

He raised an eyebrow. “Ye realize I can just take it.”

“I do, but I dinnae think ye will.” She took a breath. “And this might nae be the list of things I remembered. It could be a decoy.”

He sat back, vexed and impressed in equal measure. In truth, he had thought this was all he wanted from her, to hear what she knew about MacDunn, but the last few sleepless nights suggested otherwise. Nevertheless, he had waited a long time to gain some new information about the Scourge of the Highlands. He would not risk that now.

“Go on,” he said.

“The most valuable thing I could remember is this,” she began, closing her eyes as if it helped with the recollection. “Me faither wrote to me when I was six-and-ten. He said he hoped to return home soon, as he thought they were close to finding ‘it.’ Now, I dinnae ken what ‘it’ was or is, but it seems to me that Laird MacDunn was searching for something very important to him. Something so important that he would go to war for it and keep fighting for years… Years after me faither and countless others fell in battle for his cause, by the sounds of it. Indeed, it sounds like he’s still searchin’ for it.”

Murdoch let her words sink in, mulling over them with concealed interest. He had often wondered what MacDunn’s motivations for razing village after village and ransacking castles and keeps were, but he had always assumed the man was crazed and bloodthirsty, attacking for the sake of it. He had never suspected that there might be a tangible reason.

But what could he be searchin’ for so violently, for so many years?

Murdoch had heard the stories, had seen the carnage and chaos left behind. Just because MacDunn was looking for something did not mean he was not crazed and bloodthirsty. He would have to be, to do what he had done.

Is it gold? Some treasure that was stolen from him by another Laird?

It seemed the likeliest possibility, and bloodthirsty men had waged war for far less.

“What did yer faither say about this ‘it’ they were searchin’ for?” Murdoch asked, expecting her full cooperation.

Cecilia hesitated. “That’s the problem, M’Laird. Me faither died after that letter was sent. It was the last letter I received from him. He didnae give any details about what they were seekin’, but I do ken that if ye dinnae have it, ye have nay reason to worry about MacDunn attackin’ ye or yer clan.”

Worry?

Murdoch almost scoffed.

I’m nae worried. I’d relish the chance to meet him face-to-face and cut him down with me own sword, at last.

“I see,” was all he said instead, his mind racing with the possibilities of this mysterious thing that MacDunn had been seeking.

Cecilia straightened up, pulling her shoulders back. “But there’s somethin’ else ye should ken.”

“I’m listenin’,” he replied.

“Me faither was a good man. The best of men. He wouldnae have allied himself with someone as awful as this MacDunn seems to be. I think there’s been a mistake,” she said, faltering.

Anger rose in Murdoch’s chest as he stared at her, but it simmered down a moment later when he noticed the sorrow in her eyes. Clearly, she had loved her father enough to misjudge him. After all, she was ten years old the last time she saw him, and a ten-year-old knew nothing of the world or men’s greed.

So, against all reason, he decided to be generous. “Either that or he allied himself with MacDunn to protect ye. His family. What was the alternative?”

“Well… me faither did say, the night I was taken to the convent, that those who hadnae joined Laird MacDunn were runnin’ for their lives,” she replied quietly, as if understanding had dawned.

“Exactly. Yer faither made a choice. It killed him, but it spared ye.”

Her throat bobbed as she fumbled with the square of paper in her hand. “It didnae spare me maither and grandmaither, though.”

Murdoch did not know what to say to that, already uncomfortable with showing softness when he should have chided her for making such an idiotic remark about MacDunn. He could not understand feeling any affection for one’s father, but he could understand love for one’s mother. And the loss of a grandmother.

I’m sorry that ye had so many loved ones taken from ye.

But he could not bring himself to speak the words out loud.

“Aye, well, that’s what happens in war,” he muttered, refusing to look her in the eye. If he did, he did not know what he might do or say to comfort her. “Was that everythin’ ye had to say?”

Surely, she could have remembered that without having to write anything down. Maybe the paper in her hand really was a decoy to make him think she had more information to offer.

I should send scouts to see what they can find out about this item or treasure that MacDunn is searchin’ for…

Indeed, Murdoch was keen to get Cecilia out of the room so he could concentrate again.

“Actually, nay,” she declared boldly. “Ye have made it clear to me that ye have nay intention of holdin’ up yer end of the bargain. The snow has ceased fallin’ and has begun to melt, so I expect that me aunt, Dipper, and I will soon be on our way back to the convent.”

Away from here… away from Lennox.

He wondered if that meant she had not taken as much of a shine to his man-at-arms as he had thought, but he kept his expression blank and indifferent.

“I’m aware,” he uttered.

Her eyes narrowed on him. “Well, I just want to ken what changed.”

“Pardon?”

“What changed in a night?” she pressed. “Ye were a completely different person in that cabin, and I’d like to ken why there are two of ye—this cold beast before me, and the man who was there in the cabin with me, whispering things that?—”

“There’s nay difference,” he interrupted sharply, unwilling to be reminded of the things he had murmured in her ear and how desperately he had wanted to make them a reality. “I just didnae want ye to be cold.”

She shot him an almost withering look. “Och, well, thank ye for the hospitality. But that doesnae explain why ye said?—”

“I was checkin’ what manner of wildlin’ ye are,” he interrupted her again, recalling every word and the way she had arched her back, pushing against him, stirring his loins to a maddening heat. “To ensure ye were pure enough to return to the convent and take yer vows. I remain unconvinced, but that’s none of me business.”

He motioned for her to leave, but she stayed put, holding her ground.

“And that brings me nicely to me last order of business,” she said with determination in her voice, unfolding the paper she held to her chest. “ Yer end of the bargain. And I’m nae goin’ anywhere until I have it.”