Page 45 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
“I’m truly sorry, Aileen, but… I dinnae think I want to attend,” Cecilia confessed. “I’m nae really in a festive mood, and if this headache doesnae go away, I cannae think of anythin’ worse than music and loud chatter.”
Aileen chuckled to herself and went to fetch the basin of cold water. “Nonsense, me dear. Yemustattend. Everyone is so very excited, and if yer headache persists, all ye have to do is be there for an hour or so, then ye can retire to yer chambers. But I’venever heard of a headache that our healer couldnae get rid of in as much time as it takes to drink the medicine she gives.”
Cecilia sensed that she would not be able to talk her way out of attending the cèilidh, and after all of the enthusiasm and effort that Aileen was putting into the occasion, she did not want to look ungrateful. Perhaps she couldshow her face for an hour or two and then sneak back to her rooms unnoticed.
And just because I attend, that doesnae mean I have to interact with Murdoch.
Cecilia glanced down at her arm, where he had grabbed her. There was no mark or bruise, just the memory of his words after she said she’d seek another’s help with her list.
“Never say that again.”
It made her heart and head race all over again, trying to decipher what he had meant by that. What did it matter to him? He had only touched her as a punishment for her accusation. He would not have initiated that world of pleasure if she had not sought him out first. It had all been a euphoric accident, and she did not have time to ensure that such an ‘accident’ happened again. She needed someonewillingandeager.
But I dinnae want it to be anyone else…
She dropped her head in her hands before her brain exploded; she was tired of her thoughts warring with each other, tearing her in half.
“Come on,” Aileen urged as Dipper saw fit to start tugging at the coverlets, taking her side. “Out of bed with ye.”
Cecilia did just that, sighing and mumbling all the while. What choice did she have?
There was a reason why Murdoch did not like to host gatherings at Castle Moore—he could not stand them. If he wished to see people getting steadily more inebriated and bawdy, falling over themselves and wrecking rooms, he would have remained a pirate.
“Are ye nae dancin’, M’Laird?” Lennox came up behind him, grinning as usual.
Murdoch sipped his whiskey, glaring at those selfsame dancers who whirled and jigged about the dance floor. “What do yethink?”
“I think ye’re bein’ a very dull host,” Lennox replied. “What happened to leadership, eh? Ye should be settin’ an example for yer guests, nae starin’ at them like ye’re thinkin’ of ways to kill of them.”
Murdoch continued to sip his whiskey, uninterested in keeping up appearances. His people knew what kind of man he was, and the guests who were not from his castle would learn soon enough that this cèilidh hadnothingto do with him. It was all his mother’s doing, and he still could not understand why she had been so insistent.
There are barely any lairds here for ye to foist Cecilia on.
Murdoch suspected that might have had something to do with the recent bad weather, but he was not sorry about it. The fewer choices Cecilia had, the fewer men she could solicit to help her with her list. And the fewer men Murdoch would have to resist punching.
“Suit yerself,” Lennox muttered, before rejoining the revelry.
A moment later, the doors to the Great Hall swung open and Aileen stepped inside. Mairie was on her arm, dressed in her usual attire, but she had a wide smile on her face that was almost giddy. Not what Murdoch would have expected from a Mother Superior. Indeed, he would not have expected such a devout woman to attend a gathering at all.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aileen began, and the musicians fell silent. “It is my pleasure to introduce ye to our guest of honor, Miss Cecilia Adair!”
The guests promptly applauded and cheered as the two older women stepped aside to let Cecilia through. The moment Murdoch saw her, his mouth went dry.
She wore a gown of ruby-red velvet, cinched at the waist with a golden belt of vine leaves. Puffed, gauzy sleeves in a lighter hue of red hinted at her slender arms, while a lowcut neckline drew his eye to her pert breasts, reminding him of the singular pleasure of drawing her nipple into his mouth. He ran his eyes up the column of her throat to her beautiful face, then over the dark hair piled high in curls, studded with golden hair slides and pins.
She looked… regal, as if an ethereal princess had just graced them with her presence.
He was not the only one staring—her appearance was causing quite a stir. Many of the invited gentlemen were staring a littletoohard for his liking as they whispered to each other.
If any one of ye touches a single thread on her gown, I’ll have ye thrown out into the snow so fast ye willnae remember to shiver.
But Aileen was leading Cecilia closer to those lusty vultures, waving to someone in the crowd.
Murdoch watched, his hand gripping his whiskey glass, as his mother led Cecilia toward… Lennox. And worse, Cecilia lowered her gaze and fluttered her eyelashes, bringing a hand to her chest as she spoke with Lennox, who was grinning and chattering as usual. A flirtatious gesture that ignited Murdoch’s anger.
Ye’ll nae fulfill everythin’ on yer list with him! I forbid it!
But Murdoch could not say that out loud. He could not say anything. Hehadrejected her call for help, after all.
