Page 41 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
Leaving her there, he went to one of the few side tables that bordered the room and poured a cup of something.
“Drink this,” he said, handing her the cup.
She took it gratefully and sipped from it. It was spiced wine, and the warm liquid slid down her throat and into her stomach. As she took another sip to steady herself, she glanced back at the partially completed sculpture.
“I didnae ken ye could make somethin’ like that,” she said, uncertain of whether he was willing to talk about the sculptures or not.
There appeared to be several in the tower, all covered with dusty cloths. If she had been able to stand on her shaky legs, she might have allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and gone over to investigate.
“Sculptin’ helps… soothe me,” he revealed, after a brief pause.
She nodded, seeing how that could be true. It was an art, requiring strength as well as delicacy. The perfect medium for someone like him.
“When did ye start?” she asked, taking a larger sip of her wine.
He shrugged. “A while ago. Me former captain taught me how.”
“Captain?” She frowned.
He met her gaze, his gray eyes more wolf-like than she had seen them. “Did I nae mention that I used to be a pirate?”
Shock rippled through her with such force that she almost dropped her cup. “Pardon?”
“If ye’d kenned me back then,” he said in a gravelly voice, “ye wouldnae have dared to set foot in here without me permission.”
CHAPTER 18
Murdoch wishedhe was a gifted painter, or that he could somehow commit Cecilia to memory at that moment, every detail intact in his mind so he could sculpt it later.
She was sitting on his work stool with the cup of spiced wine in her hands, one leg crossed elegantly over the other, her free arm casually covering her breasts—not in shame, but as if by habit. And she was leaning slightly forward, creating the most beautiful lines across her stomach. They would be a true challenge to carve.
But her eyes, so wide with shock, were something he could never hope to replicate.
“I’m surprised ye havenae heard from someone,” he said, fetching himself a cup of the heady wine, though he would be sorry to wash away the taste of her skin.
When he turned, the image of her had already changed. She had removed her dress from the three-legged stool and was pulling it over her head. His eyes savored the way her body tightened as she pushed her arms through the sleeves. He said nothing as he enjoyed the sight, knowing it would not last much longer.
The dark red wool tumbled down over her alabaster skin, her hands hurrying to push the skirts over her bare legs. She had not bothered to put her undergarments back on, and the tear in the neckline exposed more of her pert breasts than usual.
She seemed to notice a moment later, tucking the ripped bit of fabric in such a way that it covered what he had been admiring.
“Nay, nobody told me,” she said at last, retrieving her cup and taking a lengthy sip. “I cannae say I’veeverheard of a pirate laird.”
He leaned against the nearby barrel where he stored his clay. “It’s nae common.”
“Nay, I dinnae expect it is.” She frowned at him. “Do… um… most people ken about yer… maritime history?”
“Here or elsewhere?”
She hesitated. “Both.”
“Here, it’s common knowledge. Beyond here, it’s nae.”
He could only imagine the uproar it would cause if such tales spread across the Highlands. There were lairds on the coast whose ships he had attacked and plundered, and he was wanted by more than a few Englishmen, though they had no name or face to go by if they everdidtry to seek vengeance.
Cecilia nodded slowly. “I suppose that’s fortunate, or else ye’d have hordes of lasses seekin’ ye out, desperate to be romanced by the Pirate Laird.” A small smile tugged at her red, swollen lips. “Och, ye’d break a thousand hearts when they finally met ye and ye soundly kicked them out of yer castle.”
Murdoch sipped his drink, fighting the urge to smile in return. By the time he had swallowed the spiced wine, he had wiped any threat of a smirk from his lips.
