Page 62 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
The moment he said that, something ignited within Cecilia, burning far hotter than her humiliation. It was pure, simmering anger. Anger that her husband had abandoned herafterthe wedding; anger that he had shown her things that she could not forget and then taken them away; anger that he had not at least agreed to share a bedchamber with her for the sake of appearances; anger that her position as Lady Moore might be threatened if she did not bear him children, through no fault of her own.
I willnae let any harm come to meself just because he has made decisions without consultin’ me first.
After all, she knew what the councilmen had meant by “considerations.” They would get rid of her if they had to.
“Thank ye, Mr. MacGill,” she said firmly. “And please, tell Tara that I was lookin’ for her when she returns.”
She hurried away, knowing precisely where she needed to go if she was ever going to get the castle to stop gossiping about her, and to prevent that sting of embarrassment from ever catching her unawares again.
These stairs will be the death of me long before those two councilmen can do anythin’ to get rid of me.
Cecilia panted her way up the tower staircase, halting on the landing to catch her breath. She was not completely certain she would find Murdoch there, but it seemed the likeliest location.
Once her thighs had ceased burning and her lungs were drawing in enough air again, she steeled herself and marched straight through the door, making its rusty hinges groan.
Her husband was sitting on his work stool, though he was not chipping away at a statue. Instead, he seemed to be shaping something out of clay.
“How many times do I have to tell ye that ye cannae be in here?” he growled, not bothering to turn around.
“Ye shouldnae have made me yer wife if ye didnae want me to share yer life,” she snapped back, striding over to where he was working and putting herself in front of the small, circular work table. “I’m Lady Moore. This is Castle Moore. I can go where I please. Och, ye said so yerself.”
He raised his stony gaze to hers. “Nae this room.”
“What a surprise—another rule to torment me with.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Aye, go on, ban me from this tower. That way, ye can spend evenmoretime avoidin’ me than ye’re already doin’. Why, ye might as well move yer bed up here and stay here permanently.”
“I’m nae avoidin’ ye,” he replied gruffly, returning to what he was doing.
The clay had the figure of a woman, with faint details showing the beginning of a dress, but her face was an eerie blank. Was he sculpting that woman he had spoken to at their wedding? She was very pretty and seemed to know him well, her gesticulations revealing a certain familiarity.
Cecilia had considered confronting him about her, but it would not have helped her plan to get him to change his mind. Now, however, she saw no reason to hold back.
“Aye, ye are, and I wouldnae mind if ye werenae the Laird of this castle,” she replied coldly. “Buteveryoneis watchin’ ye, and everyone is observin’ what ye do, and all they’re seein’ is a husband who cannae stand his wife. They’re all talkin’ about it, and ye’re up here, feedin’ into it.”
“Ignore it,” he muttered.
“Ignore it?” she shouted, enraged. “I cannae ignore it, Murdoch. I’mhumiliated.Yehave humiliated me, makin’ sure everyone kens that ye dinnae want yer wife. But ye had nay troublespeakin’ with that lass at our weddin’, did ye? Och, nay, ye couldnae have been more comfortable.”
His eyes snapped up to hers. “Dinnae start accusin’ me of things again, Cecilia. Fiona is nothin’ to me.”
“And neither am I!” Cecilia roared back. “Ye’ve made that blatantly clear. Yedinnae want me, nor will ye let anyone else have me. Ye’ve trapped me in a passionless marriage, and I cannae bear the thought of endurin’ this embarrassment for the rest of me life, hearin’ the servants whisper about what failings drove me husband away.”
He rose to his feet, wiping his hands on a wet cloth. “Ye think I dinnae want ye?”
“Of course ye dinnae!”
He dipped his clay-covered hands in a nearby bowl, washing off the evidence of his work. “Ye think I was content to see ye in naught but yer stays andnaebend ye over the bed?”
She blinked.
“Ye think I was pleased to undress ye and nae run me tongue between yer thighs?” he continued, drying off his hands, his eyes blazing with ravenous desire.
Cecilia swallowed thickly, a little nervous about what she had unleashed.
“Ye think I havenae wanted to grab ye and pin ye to the wall, sinkin’ deep inside ye every time ye’ve squeezed by me on the stairs?” He moved closer to her. “Ye think I havenae wanted to break down yer bedchamber door to have ye every night since our weddin’?”
She dared to shake her head, her body tingling with the thought of everything he had just said. She had a better idea now of what such things entailed. After all, he had almost shown her in the gardens.Almost.
“Then ye’re a fool,” he growled, scooping her up into his arms.
