Page 73 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
“Ye can open them now,” he told her, carefully releasing her from her bonds.
Conscious that his hands were covered in blood, he tried to wipe it away before he took hold of her arms and helped her into a sitting position. He turned her around so she was perched on the edge of the table and gazed down at her.
“Did he hurt ye? Did he do anythin’ to ye?” he asked, his voice cracking.
She shook her head, though she was shaking from head to toe. “Nay. I am… all right.”
“Are ye sure?”
She nodded slowly.
Spurred on by an uncontrollable impulse, he bent to pull her into his arms. But her hands came up to stop him, and there was a hint of fear in her eyes as she did so. He staggered back as if she had shoved him hard, realizing what he had done—even with her eyes closed, she had seen the Beast within him. And she did not want to be touched by him.
“Come,” he said stiffly. “We should leave. Me horse is outside.”
He left ahead of her, careful not to make her aversion worse by offering her his arm or offering to carry her.
She eventually joined him outside and pulled herself into the saddle. He wished he could join her, hold her close as they rode back to the safety of Castle Moore. He wished he could kiss away her fear and embrace her with all of the relief that flooded his veins. Instead, he walked beside the horse, holding the reins, giving her the distance she so obviously needed.
“There’s nay harm done,” the healer declared, setting a cup of medicinal tea beside the chair where Cecilia sat. “All I’d say is make sure ye stay as warm as ye can, so ye dinnae catch a chill. And put that salve on yer wrists if they start to itch.”
Cecilia barely listened, watching Murdoch pace back and forth in front of the fireplace in the healer’s quarters. He had not said a word to her since they left the cabin, and she could not figure out if he was angry with her or if this was how he usually behaved after killing a man.
“I’ll leave ye to drink yer tea,” the healer said, casting a curious look at Murdoch before taking herself out of the room.
Cecilia picked up the cup and grimaced as she took a sip, surprised by the bitter taste. She waited for Murdoch to say something, anything, but the silence stretched on, and she knew that she was going to have to be the one to break it.
“Thank ye for rescuin’ me,” she said quietly.
Murdoch halted, turning to look at her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he closed it.
A second later, he straightened up, his expression blank. “There’s a keep nae far from here. Ye can see it from yer chamber window. It’ll be prepared for ye in the next few days, so ye can move into it next week.”
“Excuse me?” She stared at him, not bothering to hide the hurt that was probably etched on her face. “Ye want me… to leave?”
What was the point in him coming to find her and saving her from George if he did not want her to be in the castle anymore? Was he really that angry with her that he was evicting her from her new home?
He would not look her in the eye. “After what ye saw today… after what happened to ye today, I cannae let ye near me.” He paused. “I couldnae protect ye, Cecilia. It was me duty, and Ifailed ye becauseIchose to keep a distance from ye. I have lost yer trust, and as such, I have lost any right to be at yer side.”
She blinked at him in disbelief. “What are ye talkin’ about? Yesavedme, Murdoch. If it wasnae for ye, I’d be dead in that cabin. Nor have ye lost me trust.Idecided to venture off on me own, against yer wishes.”
“Nevertheless, I think ye’d be safer in yer own keep with an escort of yer own,” he insisted, shaking his head slightly.
“And I think that’s nonsense,” she huffed, rising from the chair.
“Ye were afraid of me,” he said, almost sadly. “It was the first time I saw ye so afraid, the way everyone else is. I put that terror in yer eyes, and I dinnae want to see it again. I’d… grown accustomed to ye nae bein’ scared of me, and I cannae undo what I have done.”
She moved toward him. “I wouldnae ask ye to, and I’m nae afraid of ye.”
“Perhaps ye should be,” he sighed. “I am the Beast, after all.”
She was about to tell him that she had not been scared of him but of the blood that covered his hands when he had tried to embrace her. She had not wanted George’s blood on her, that was all.
But before she could utter a word, he asked, “Do ye want to ken why I wear a mask?”
She frowned for a moment and then nodded. “I assume ye have an injury. Incurred when ye were a pirate.”
He laughed darkly. “It was long before I became a pirate.” He touched his mask, and for a second, Cecilia thought he might remove it. “I’m scarred under it. Me faither branded me with the flat of his sword, heated by the fire, because I dared to question him when I was a bairn. I was already a beast when I joined the pirates. Hell, I begged them to take me with them. And the fact that ye almost suffered the same fate because of me…”
