Page 75 of A Virgin for the Vicious Highlander
Murdoch’s expression darkened. “I’d only dirty it.”
He pushed past Lennox and headed down the spiraling staircase, not caring that he was bare-chested. The entire castle likely thought he had already lost his mind, so what did it matter if he shocked them a little more?
He did not stop, hurrying down hallways where servants gasped and skittered out of his way, and down gloomy stairwells until he reached the dungeons. They were as wretched as dungeons could be, without warmth or light, the stone walls perpetually damp, the cells small and devoid of anything but a bucket, a thin blanket, and old straw on the ground.
He found the MacDunn soldier immediately, huddled like a twisted creature in the corner of a dank cell.
“Ye have one chance to save yer life,” Murdoch barked, halting in front of the rusty iron bars. “Tell me where MacDunn is, tell me what he’s lookin’ for, and I’ll let ye go. Lie to me, and I’ll ken. Deny me the answers, and ye’ll die here.”
The MacDunn soldier lunged at the bars like a feral dog, baring his teeth, his eyes wild and almost possessed.
Murdoch did not flinch. He was not afraid of a caged beast.
“I willnae tell ye anythin’!” the soldier snarled. “Ye’ll have to kill me first.”
“Is that yer final answer?” Murdoch asked coolly.
The soldier faltered slightly. “Ye wouldnae dare kill me. I’m the only one who kens where MacDunn is.”
“Aye, but ye just said ye wouldnae tell me anythin’. As such, I have nay use for ye alive.”
Murdoch was in no mood for games and continued disappointments when it came to MacDunn. He had tried and failed to get many of his men to talk too, though never in his own castle. There were things he had learned as a pirate that he could have used tomakethe man talk, but they were things that no laird would do.
And I am already marked enough without addin’ stains to me soul.
Torture was a line that Murdoch would not cross, not for anything. Except for one person. But she was not his concern anymore, and nor was she in any danger that would require torture.
The soldier seemed to decide to stick to his earlier resolve, as he spat at Murdoch. “Aye, I willnae tell ye aught! I’m loyal to MacDunn, and I’ll be loyal to him till me last breath!”
“Why?” Murdoch asked suddenly. It was a question that had bothered him ever since he began gathering information about MacDunn.
The soldier smirked. “Because he’s righteous. Because he’s worth bein’ loyal to. Because he’s ten times the Laird that any one of ye will ever be. Even if I die today, he’ll see to it that me family is taken care of, and he’ll honor me for sayin’ nothin’ to the likes of ye.”
“Then I ought to make sure he kens what ye’ve done,” Murdoch replied.
The soldier furrowed his brow in confusion, but then his eyes widened as, in one rapid movement, Murdoch drew the broadsword of the guard standing nearby and plunged it into the soldier’s chest.
If MacDunn’s man did not want to talk, then so be it. Murdoch had grown tired of chasing a ghost. It was high time he brought the ghost to him instead.
“Lennox, send the body back to where ye found him, or to MacDunn’s territory,” he instructed.
Lennox arched an eyebrow. “Send it back, M’Laird?”
“Aye, I want this man to serve as a message,” Murdoch replied. “See it done.”
Lennox bowed his head. “Of course, M’Laird.”
After handing the sword back to the guard, Murdoch walked off without another word, wishing that he had some manner ofdistraction. Sculpting had become useless, as it only reminded him of what he had lost, and his mother was not currently speaking to him, blaming him for Cecilia’s departure.
So, he wandered the hallways for a while, searching for inspiration. Anything to stop his mind from racing with thoughts of his wife and how much—if he was being honest with himself—he missed having her around. Even the keep would have been too far.
As he walked, he spotted something in the gardens. A streak of white chasing a balled-up bundle of rags. Tara was watching the puppy from the low wall, throwing the ball when Dipper brought it back to her, but neither seemed happy.
The puppy kept stopping, looking around, and sniffing the air, before continuing the game, as if he was searching for someone who was not there. Tara, on the other hand, looked like she had been crying.
Taking a breath, Murdoch stepped out into the gardens. He had avoided the puppy and Tara for long enough.
And that daft dog is the only thing givin’ me hope that Cecilia willnae stay with Camden and Paisley forever. She wouldnae leave him…
