Page 36 of Highland Heroine (Brides of the Highlands #3)
M oira stood by the window, fingers tracing the cool stone ledge as dawn illuminated the rugged peaks of the Highlands. A secret not yet shared was stirring within her—a connection to Brodie beyond measure.
“This changes everything,” she whispered, voice barely audible.
The weight of her news was different from that of the sword she wielded skillfully; it was a delicate yet potent bond of love.
How would Brodie react? Would his brown eyes soften with joy, or would his strategic mind weigh implications and consequences?
She brushed a curl behind her ear, resolve firming. “He must know. He must see the hope I see.” Their future depended on the love they fought for amidst conflicts surrounding their clans.
Resolute, Moira descended to the courtyard where McAfee Keep’s morning bustle had begun.
“Moira!” Keir called, approaching with an unruly mop of hair and a broad grin—remnants of simpler days before alliances and betrayals dictated life.
“Keir!” Embracing warmly, their worries were momentarily forgotten. Laughter bubbled between them, easy and free.
As they recalled races through forests and outsmarting other children, Moira said, “We’re older, perhaps wiser, but the fire of those days never truly fades.”
“Never,” Keir agreed. “It burns within us, guiding through dark times and reminding us who we are—children of these lands, fierce and unyielding.”
Their exchange was filled with their shared history, their childhoods, and the love they had for their childhood friends. Even as leaders and warriors they had become, the essence of their youth remained, indelible and pure.
Brodie stood in the shadow of an oak, his gaze fixed on Moira and Keir below.
Laughter reached him on the breeze that whispered through the leaves.
He observed their intimacy, suspicion blooming within him.
And then he remembered the night before he’d been injured, when she had flirted with many different men right in front of him, and his anger grew.
Keir leaned against the stone wall, relaxed and unguarded. Brodie’s eyes narrowed as he searched for evidence of a deeper connection. His heart echoed a silent plea for his suspicions to be unfounded.
Subconsciously, Brodie’s hand rested upon the hilt of his dirk—ready to defeat any opponent for the love of his wife. The laughter below struck a dissonant chord within him.
Moira playfully swatted at Keir’s shoulder as they reminisced about their youthful adventures. They shared laughter that spoke of innocence and an unblemished bond from a time before betrayal’s shadow loomed over the Highlands.
Brodie hid, watching the pair stand in sunlight. His heart twisted with jealousy and doubt, despite his attempts to trust the woman he loved. The scene below remained tainted.
Keir’s silhouette disappeared against the heather and pine while Moira stood by McAfee Keep. She placed her hands on her midriff, feeling a secret flutter of new life.
“Fiona and Alisdair’s baby will have a cousin soon,” she whispered before turning back toward the keep, fiery hair glowing in the late afternoon sun.
After supper, she stood with her sisters, whispering her news. “I have yet to tell Brodie, but I’ll do that tonight. Ye may share with yer husbands, but no one else.” She was smiling ear to ear, excited to see the look on Brodie’s face when she told him he would be a father.
As evening fell, Moira entered their chamber where Brodie stood by the hearth in contemplation.
“Evening, love,” she greeted, anticipation causing her hands to tremble. Imagining his reaction to her news, she asked, “Are ye well, Brodie?” Her voice wove through the silence as she prepared to share their future with him.
Moira reached out, her fingertips brushing Brodie’s sleeve. “Brodie, there is something I must—”
“Where were ye this afternoon?” he interrupted, his voice sharp. He stepped back, tension filling the space between them.
Moira hesitated, her face paling. “I was outside, in the courtyard. Why?”
“Ah, with Keir.” Brodie’s eyes narrowed, his posture rigid. “Seemed quite the joyful reunion.”
Her heart sank at his cold demeanor. “He’s an old friend, Brodie. We climbed trees together and would watch the soldiers training, both of us determined to be just like them.”
“An old friend,” he repeated skeptically.
“Ye doubt my fidelity?” Her anger surged. “I have given ye no cause for such distrust!”
“Moira, ’tis not about trust—” he started, but she interrupted.
“Is it not?” she retorted, her voice rising. “Then what is it about?”
She stood defiantly, unwilling to let her honor be tarnished by jealousy or misjudgment.
“Ye look upon me as if I’ve betrayed the very clans we both hold dear,” Moira spat, anger radiating from her body. Her posture was unwavering, mirroring the fortress walls that withstood countless assaults.
Brodie’s jaw clenched, his voice low and strained. “It is no simple matter when a wife finds comfort in the company of another man.”
“Comfort? Aye, comfort in shared memories, naught more!” The tension between them intensified, an invisible barrier difficult to break through.
She was growing angrier and angrier as the minutes passed.
She’d come to tell him about the bairn she carried, and instead, she was having a confrontation about her own faithfulness… or lack thereof.
“Moira, ye ken well the times are treacherous. Appearances cannae be ignored,” he reasoned, but his words felt heavy and obstructive.
“Then let them watch!” Her defiance surged. “I will not live shackled by fear or suspicion.” She folded her arms across her chest, determined not to tell him about the babe until he apologized for the way he was mistrusting her.
“Is it so unreasonable to ask for caution?” Brodie’s stance softened fractionally as though trying to reach her.
“I have been nothing but loyal to ye, to us,” Moira insisted, eyes locked onto his unflinchingly. “If ye cannot trust in that, then what do we have?”
“We—”
“No,” she cut him off, her tone steady despite her emotions. “Ye will not undermine my character based on your own unfounded fears.”
In the dim light of their chamber, they stood—two forces of nature clashing but bound by something stronger than their disagreement.
Brodie’s jaw clenched, his heart racing. Moira stood before him, her hair a fiery halo, her eyes demanding he see past his doubts.
“Can ye not see the truth in my eyes?” she implored, her voice cutting through his turmoil.
He wanted to believe her, but trust was hard-won after what he’d seen. “Moira,” he began, only to be interrupted by her resolute expression.
“Enough,” she said firmly. “If ye cannot hold faith in me, find solace elsewhere.”
Her ultimatum settled heavily in the room.
She stood unwavering, a testament to conviction.
Brodie watched her turn away, feeling their divide widen with each step.
Left alone with only shadows and doubt for company, he realized that the true battle was within himself—to trust in their bond or let fear sever what they had built together.
Moira’s hand rested on the icy door handle, her breath steadying as she leaned against the chamber door separating her from Brodie.
The silence enveloped her like a Highland mist, suffocating and isolating.
Her heartbeat decelerated, synchronizing with the distant murmur of waves lapping at the loch’s shore.
Moira moved to the window, observing the moonlit glen extending beyond McAfee Keep. The untamed beauty reflected her inner turmoil—a realm where loyalty and survival collided.
“Independence,” she murmured into the night, reaffirming a vow taken by generations before.
Her hands settled protectively over her unborn child, a joy held secret in her chamber. The altercation with Brodie and its ensuing consequences could not darken this hidden sanctuary of hope.
“Ye ken nothing of what resides within me,” she spoke softly, blending with the heather rustle outside. “But I’ll prove me truth to ye, Brodie McClain. With the resolute beat of me own heart.”
The hearth’s embers disrupted the quietness, their dance reflecting Moira’s indomitable spirit no man could smother— not even one she cherished.
In her eyes lingered a myriad of emotions: hurt from unfounded accusations, anger toward injustice, but beneath it all, an unwavering thread of hope for love’s triumph.
“Ye must see the honor in me actions, Brodie,” she said to emptiness as if he was there confronting his demons. “For I cannot chain me soul to doubt or let suspicion cast shadows on our bairn.”
Determined, Moira turned from the window. She would withstand this storm as she had others—with unyielding courage and faith that tomorrow would clear even the cloudiest heart.
“Trust is the bridge between us,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek, “and I won’t let it fall.”
In the stillness of her chamber, Moira clung to her independence, weaving it into threads of hope that by dawn, understanding would awaken within Brodie and they’d start healing their rift.