Page 9 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #4)
CHAPTER 9
“I saw the puppy from the window,” Cecilia explained, her face so numb it was difficult to speak. “He was out by the road. A t-tiny thing. By the time I got to where he h-had been, he had run toward the woods. I followed his tracks u-until I found him again. Poor thing was so lost and tired th-that he let me pick him up and tuck him under me cloak. The trouble was, I c-couldnae find me way out again. I’d come too far into the woods, and the sun was goin’ down and…”
She stared up at Murdoch, knowing she probably deserved some of the tongue-lashing she was about to receive, but what else was she supposed to do? Leave the puppy out there to die? It was not in her nature. It never had been. In fact, it was the very reason she was so often put on sheep and goat duty, because Mairie knew that no one would keep a closer eye on the animals than her.
“His m-maither must have abandoned him,” she added, waiting for Murdoch to say something . But he was just staring at her as if he could not decide what to do with her.
All the while, the cold in her bones seeped deeper, and the puppy kept barking, trying to wriggle out of her grasp to presumably attempt to bite Murdoch.
“Aye, well, ye’re goin’ to as well,” Murdoch said at last, his voice harsh. “If his maither left him behind, there must have been a reason. He willnae survive, so put him down, and we’ll be on our way.”
Cecilia held the puppy closer, scowling at him. “I willnae leave him. There are countless reasons that a dog would leave her pups behind, and nae all of them have to do with the health of the pup. It’s snowin’, it’s winter—maybe she realized she couldnae feed ‘em both, or her milk had dried up. There are plenty of reasons, and I’m nae goin’ anywhere without him.”
Murdoch’s eyes flashed, his lip curling as he looked down at the barking puppy. The adorable little creature was as white as snow, save for the black tip of his tail and one black foot.
“He doesnae like ye very much,” Cecilia remarked. “And I can see why. He kens ye’re a mean, old goat who wants him to freeze to death out here in the snow, and I happen to agree with his opinion.”
“Ye realize I could leave ye both to freeze to death out here?” Murdoch said curtly. “I said to yer aunt that I’d find ye, and I’d say I found ye.”
Cecilia shrugged. “Ye could do that, but I ken that ye willnae.”
“And why is that?”
“Because yer maither wouldnae forgive ye, and ye respect yer maither,” she replied as boldly as she could, hoping she was right.
She desperately wanted to feel warm again, regardless of her bravado, and she did not want her adventure into the woods to be for nothing. If she had to find her way back on her own, turning up long after he had returned to the castle without them, then so be it. But she would be telling his mother what had happened.
“Get up,” Murdoch grunted.
Cecilia stayed where she was.
“Get up!” he growled, taking the dog from her.
The little beast was not so bold in the crook of Murdoch’s arm, burying his tiny white face in the Laird’s armpit, whimpering instead of barking.
“If I have to ask ye a third time, I will leave ye here.”
With every bone aching from the cold, Cecilia lumbered to her feet and dusted the snow off her skirts. Much of it had soaked into her dress already, the cold, wet feeling unpleasant against her skin as she tried to remember how to get her frozen legs to work.
“I’m nae leavin’ the dog,” she insisted, grimacing as she shambled forward.
“I’m holdin’ it, am I nae?” Murdoch muttered.
Nearly knocking her off balance, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, his free arm encircling her shoulders. The heat of him was like a drop of honey to a starving tongue, and though she still feared for the pup, she could not resist Murdoch’s warmth. She held on to him, reveling in his warmth.
Murdoch said nothing as he led her in the opposite direction of his horse, who followed obediently once he realized that his master was on the move.
As Cecilia had said, she did not know the path out of the woodland, but she was quite certain that Murdoch was taking her the wrong way.
She said as much, keeping her eye on the puppy in case Murdoch thought he could drop the creature discreetly.
“We’re nae returnin’ to the castle tonight,” he replied. “It’s gettin’ dark, and ye’re ice cold. Ye’ll be in a worse state if we go back now, as will this wretched hound.”
“I dinnae understand,” she murmured.
If they were not going to the castle, then where were they going? Surely, staying out in the woods was the thing that would make them all colder?
“Cease yer chatterin’ and just follow,” he commanded, shaking his head slightly.
If she had been able to feel her face, she might have disobeyed, but staying silent seemed more prudent when every word was a struggle. And he was so very warm, like a hearth in human form, pressing her against his side.
Before long, after following a path that only he seemed to know, a half-hidden structure came into view. It had a mossy roof and four wooden walls, with what appeared to be a horse stall off to the side, the exterior painted in a mottled pattern that was presumably meant to make it less visible to anyone coming through. Anyone who did not know it was there, at least.
“ This is where we’re stayin’ for the night?” she asked, surprised.
Murdoch did not look at her. “Ye robbed yerself of the opportunity to sleep in a comfortable bed when ye set out after this wee beastie. If it’s nae to yer likin’, that’s nae me concern.”
He walked away from her, still holding the dog, and opened the door of the hunting cabin. He went inside, his heavy footfalls echoing out into the forest, and emerged a second later.
“There’s nothin’ livin’ in here, so if ye dinnae want to shiver yerself to an early grave, ye’d better come inside,” he called gruffly, before disappearing inside again.
Unwilling to leave the stallion alone in the cold, Cecilia walked back to the magnificent, enormous creature and bowed her head to it. The stallion snorted in reply, bowing his head slightly. She put out her hand to let the horse sniff her, and once she was certain he would not bite, she lightly stroked his nose.
The stallion gave a soft nicker, and when she took his reins and led him to the stall, he followed her obediently, gently chewing on the collar of her cloak and sniffing her hair.
“Ye’re a lovely beastie,” she murmured in a soothing tone as she set to work unsaddling the horse and replacing the bit and bridle with a halter that had been left on the wall for, presumably, that very purpose.
To ensure he stayed warm, she took off her cloak and draped it over his back. He nickered again, bumping his nose into her forehead.
“Och, do ye like kisses? Is that it? Do ye want kisses?”
She kissed his long nose and scratched between his ears, lavishing him with attention. So much so that she did not notice that Murdoch had come back out of the hunting cabin and was now watching her as if she were some kind of strange woodland spirit who had just bewitched his horse.
Her heart leaped into her throat when she finally saw him standing there. “I was just gettin’ him settled. It’ll be a miserable night for him—poor mite.”
Murdoch raised an eyebrow. “He’s nae a pony, lass. If ye do all that, ye’ll spoil him.” He pointed his thumb back into the cabin. “And ye have another creature in here to tend to. Never mind botherin’ with me stallion.”
“Is he always this mean?” Cecilia asked the horse.
The stallion blew a breath of assent through his nostrils, making her laugh.
“Well, ye rest well,” Cecilia said to the lovely creature. “Dinnae get too cold out here.”
After giving the horse one last kiss on the forelock, Cecilia retreated into the cold of the cabin. It was not much better than outside, but the first few flames of a fire were licking up the logs, and she sensed it would not be long until she could feel her limbs again.
As for the pup, he had chosen his spot, lying on his side in front of the hearth, already fast asleep.
Just then, Murdoch entered behind her and closed the door, trapping them both in that cabin.
She did not need to turn around to know that he was too close. She could feel his presence behind her, like invisible fingertips skimming over her tingling skin. Although it might have been more appropriate to give him room, she stayed put, liking the feeling more than she cared to admit.