Page 33 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #4)

CHAPTER 33

“And he really hasnae sent a letter for ye to return?” Paisley asked, sipping from a cup of medicinal tea that the healer had brought into the bedchamber. A brew to help with the sickness that had recently been plaguing her, or so the healer had proclaimed.

Cecilia, standing by the window, let out an exasperated groan. “Anyone would think ye couldnae wait to be rid of me. Am I such terrible company?”

“Of course nae!” Paisley insisted, laughing lightly. “I’d leap at the chance to have ye here at me side permanently, but… I cannae help but think that’s nae what ye want. Ye were never one for starin’ out of windows, nor were ye someone who wasted time pacin’ about rooms. But ye’ve been restless since ye arrived, and I suspect I ken why.”

Cecilia turned away from the beautiful view of the sunset over the dramatic mountains and the forest beyond the twinkling river. “I’m tired of talkin’ about Murdoch, Pais. Please, let us talk about somethin’ else.”

“As ye wish,” Paisley replied softly. “But ye care for him, do ye nae?”

Cecilia pulled a face. “It doesnae matter. He… has retreated behind walls I cannae climb over, break through, tear down, toss a hook over. Truth be told, I think he’s more stubborn than me, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.” She sighed. “Now, please , let us talk about somethin’ else.”

Paisley nodded, her expression almost sad. “How is Maither Superior?”

“Ye realize ye can call her Mairie now, aye?” Cecilia forced a laugh and went to perch on the side of the bed, where Paisley sat propped against pillows, covered in a mountain of blankets and furs.

Paisley chuckled. “Old habits.”

“Aye, hers is gettin’ rather worn.” Cecilia smiled. “She’s well. I think she’s glad to be where she’s comfortable again, though I ken she misses Aileen terribly. I do too, in truth. But I’m pleased she’s given me permission to visit her whenever I like—me aunt, I mean. I dinnae ken where I stand with Aileen after leavin’ so suddenly.”

“She’ll understand,” Paisley assured her. “If anyone does, I imagine it’s her.”

Cecilia shrugged. “Maybe.” Her shoulders sagged, her chin dropping to her chest. “I wish none of that unpleasantness had ever happened, Pais. Castle Moore was startin’ to feel like home, and I’m strugglin’ to accept the notion of losin’ another one.”

“I’m sorry, Cecilia,” Paisley murmured. “I sometimes forget how much ye’ve been through, too.”

They’d have kenned what I should do.

Indeed, Cecilia wondered what life might have looked like if she still had her mother, father, and grandmother. Very different, no doubt. But they had all been taken from her—by war, by sickness, by fate. Still, at least she would always have Paisley and Mairie. That was something.

A knock sounded at the bedchamber door, startling both women out of their quiet reverie.

“There’s a stray at the gates howlin’ for a certain Lady Moore,” Camden’s voice called through the door, for though it was his castle, he did not mind giving his wife and her best friend their privacy.

Cecilia sat up straighter. “Pardon?”

“Och, come and put the poor creature out of his misery, or else he’ll have all the wolves in the area howlin’ too,” Camden replied. “At least toss him a bone before he starts scalin’ the mountain to get to ye.”

Paisley stared at Cecilia. “Murdoch?”

“I suspect he has come to deliver me summons, nothin’ more,” Cecilia replied, her heart racing at the mention of her husband’s name.

Apparently, he had come for her, and now that he was here, she was not certain if she was ready to see him.

Cecilia lay on the floor in the small hall where the household tended to gather on cold nights to stay warm, and she laughed merrily as Dipper licked her face and pounced on her, lavishing her with attention. He held no grudge over her brief absence, though the same could not be said for Murdoch.

“Are ye nae goin’ to talk to me?” Murdoch asked gruffly, standing near the fireplace.

Cecilia held the puppy up and brought him back down again, kissing his soft fur. “I didnae think there was anythin’ more to be said between us. I assumed I’d receive a letter tellin’ me that me keep was ready. There was nay need for ye to come in person.”

“And I assumed that ye would return of yer own accord,” he muttered in reply.

“Why would I do that when ye made it clear that ye didnae want me anywhere near ye?” she retorted, refusing to look at him. “This way, ye didnae have to see me ever again. That was what ye wanted, was it nae?”

Murdoch huffed out an annoyed breath. “Would ye sit up and look at me?”

“Nay, I willnae. I’m playin’ with me pup.” Cecilia smothered the puppy in more kisses, grateful to have him in her arms again.

Of course, she would have liked to have Murdoch hold her in his arms again, but she could not forget the way he had abandoned her after she had just survived death. It still hurt too much, being dismissed like that.

“I’m… sorry,” he sighed, his broad chest rising and falling.

She peered at him, saying nothing.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved before ye left,” he continued a moment later, clearly uncomfortable but pushing through it. “Aye, I did suggest that I couldnae have ye near me, but… I was mistaken. I have missed ye, lass. I have missed ye more than I thought I would.”

She sat up slowly, holding Dipper in her arms. Even he was still, as if he understood the importance of the moment.

“I’ve come to realize that I love ye,” he confessed, before clearing his throat. “I didnae ken what love was, so I couldnae recognize it. But I ken now, and I have made a vow to meself to be a better man for ye. Nae just that, but I have made a vow to meself to learn how to love ye properly. Trouble is, I need a teacher.”

She gaped at him, almost too stunned to speak. Of all the things she had expected to hear from him, that had not been on the list at all—a love confession, shyly and uncomfortably made, letting her know that he meant it.

“But… what about bairns? What about yer stance on havin’ a family? What about yer bloodline nonsense?” she choked out, for if that had not changed, then she would not change her mind either.

It would not matter that she loved him in return and that she wanted nothing more than to go home with him. She could not live an unfulfilled life, with her dream of motherhood snatched away from her. She just could not. She had spent eleven years abiding by rules, existing in a way that restricted her—she would not do it again.

“ Ye are the only thing I care about,” he replied without hesitation. “Nothin’ else is important. If ye want a bairn, I’ll give ye one. If ye want ten, we can have ‘em.”

Cecilia narrowed her eyes at him. “Are ye just sayin’ that so I’ll return to Castle Moore with ye?”

“Nay.” His eyes narrowed on her too. “I’ve… pondered over some things since ye departed and on the journey here. I think I’m beginnin’ to understand that any bairn of ours wouldnae be me faither’s grandchild. It would be made of ye. Made of everythin’ that’s good in ye—which is a lot. That pup ought to be feral or dead, considerin’ he was abandoned, but he adores ye. He couldnae love anythin’ more than ye.”

Cecilia slowly rose to her feet, still holding the puppy. “So, ye’ve… developed a kinship with Dipper?”

“Ye didnae have to put it like that,” Murdoch grumbled. “But aye, in a way. Because of him, because of all I’ve thought about, I ken that any child of ours would be… perfect. Loved. Different from me. They wouldnae be able to help it, with ye as their maither. And, as I said, I want to be taught how to love things properly so that I might be a good faither too. Ye were right— that is a better vengeance. Me bairns never kennin’ their grandfaither, his name fallin’ into oblivion. That’s sweet revenge, indeed. The sweetest.”

Cecilia could not have agreed more, but she was not ready to say so just yet. In truth, she could not quite believe that he was standing there, saying such… charming things.

“Were ye replaced on the road here?” she asked, eyeing him warily. “Did ye meet faeries who replaced ye with a changelin’?”

He gave her a mock withering look. “If that cannae convince ye, here…” He took something out of a fold in his kilt and handed it to her. “I ken ye burned yers, so I thought I’d write one of me own. For us.”

It was a folded piece of paper. Cecilia took it and set Dipper down as he tried to bite it. She took her time unfolding it, uncertain but secretly hopeful of what she might find.

It was better than her wildest dreams.

“A list…” she whispered, reading through the entries.

One – I mean to make love to ye, in our bed, as often as ye desire.

Two – I want to kiss ye well and often.

Three – I promise to be gentler. Make of that what ye will.

Four – I want to look into yer eyes as I slide into ye and have nothin’ between us anymore. Nay barriers or distance or doubts.

Five – I want to sculpt yer likeness while ye pose for me. I cannae sculpt clothes very well.

She chuckled at that one, but her laugh turned into a soft, enchanted gasp as she read the next entry.

Six – I want to start a family with ye. As many bairns as ye please.

There were twelve in total, the other six stirring up pleasant thoughts and recent memories that she had struggled to push deep down into the recesses of her mind.

In truth, those memories were the reason she had been pacing and staring out the window so often, not to mention getting very little sleep. But number six stood out like a beacon, heralding the change she had thought impossible.

She raised her gaze and smiled at him. “I’d be happy to complete the list with ye, my love.” She stepped closer to him, pressing her palms to his chest. “But I should start with the most important one, which ye’ve neglected to add.”

He frowned adorably. “Should I fetch a quill and inkpot?”

“There’s nay need,” she replied. “I’m certain ye’ll be able to remember it.”

“Go on…”

“I love ye too,” she whispered, peering up at him as her sore heart swelled with happiness.

His wolfish eyes widened behind his mask. “Ye do?”

“I wouldnae say it if I didnae mean it,” she insisted.

“Nor would I.” His hand came up to cradle her cheek. “I love ye, wife. I love ye, Cecilia. I love ye, Lady Moore.”

She grinned. “Now ye’re just showin’ off.”

He dipped his head and kissed her softly, with a gentleness that surprised her. Then again, that had been part of his list, to be more gentle. She kissed him back in kind, reveling in the slow sensuality of it and the relief that swept through her after all.

She had a husband, she had a home to return to, and she had free rein to visit those she cared for whenever she pleased. It was more than she could have asked for.

Pulling back slightly, she gazed up at him and murmured, “Love, take me home.”

He smiled for the first time since she had met him, the curve of his lips warming the stony color of his eyes.

He still wore his mask, but it was as if he was finally showing her a glimpse of his true self—the man hidden underneath that mask. A man who had chosen to set aside old grievances to make room for love and, hopefully, untold happiness.

“With pleasure,” he replied, swooping her up into his arms and carrying her out of the hall, with Dipper hot on his heels. The beginnings of a family, heading for their future together.