Page 42 of Highland Heroine (Brides of the Highlands #3)

B rodie McClain sat in his chamber, staring into the hearth. His brothers’ words echoed in his mind, reminding him of his corrosive jealousy that threatened his bond with Moira—the woman who held his esteem and affection. And his love. All of his love went to the stubborn woman.

He paced the room, gaze falling upon the sword against the wall—a symbol of honor and protection he feared he had compromised. How could he have been blinded by baseless suspicion?

Highland air swept through the window, cooling his shame. Trust was essential to his alliance with the McAfees—trust he must embody once more. He muttered, “Enough,” feeling a resolve well up within him. Brodie knew an apology was owed and chose his words carefully.

He approached the door, determination growing. A warrior stirred within him—not to fight an enemy but for the love and respect of Moira. With her name on his lips like a promise, he committed to seeking forgiveness in the shadowed courtyard where she practiced her swordsmanship.

Taking a deep breath, Brodie McClain stepped out of his chamber, a new chapter beginning as the door closed behind him.

*

In the courtyard, Moira McAfee’s sword clashed against steel with precision and grace. Her red hair was a tight braid that swung with each pivot and lunge. The afternoon sun cast shadows on her focused expression as she delivered each strike to the practice dummy.

Moira’s movements were sharp, mirroring her inner turmoil. Brodie’s jealousy smoldered within her, fueling her swordplay. She channeled her emotions into energy, severing invisible bonds of doubt in their relationship.

Brodie watched from the entryway, his brown eyes following her fluid form. Hesitant, he moved forward, knowing well he was about to navigate a different kind of battlefield—one where words mattered most.

As he approached Moira with caution, the unspoken apologies and hope for forgiveness filled the space between them. He paused, gathering his thoughts before calling out softly, “Moira.” His voice betrayed vulnerability as he waited for her to face him and start mending their strained bond.

The clang of steel ceased as Moira turned, her gaze holding a lonely intensity that met Brodie’s. The silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken emotions.

“Moira,” Brodie began, his voice trembling. “I’ve come to apologize.” He swallowed hard and continued, “My actions, driven by jealousy, have wronged us both.”

He stepped closer, each word deliberately chosen. “I know my doubts had no place between us. Ye’ve been loyal to our clans and to me. I am deeply sorry.”

His confession lingered in the damp Highland air as he searched her eyes for absolution.

Moira’s grip on her sword loosened, and she slipped it into her scabbard. Her brows lifted slightly, her stance relaxing as she considered his words. She let out a slow breath and spoke, “Ye’ve given me much to consider, Brodie.”

There was a pause filled with distant birdsong before she continued.

“Hearing yer apology…it gives me hope that perhaps we might move beyond this.” She spoke calmly, but her heart felt as if it had been mended.

An apology was all she’d wanted from him.

She needed hope for their future and for the child she bore.

Moira stepped forward, her arms encircling Brodie’s shoulders with a strength contrasting the tenderness of the moment. Her embrace conveyed relief and love.

“Ye have always been me anchor in the wildest of storms,” she whispered, her breath warming his neck. “To have ye doubt me rattled me spirit.” She met his gaze with intensity. “But yer words now, they are like a medicine that has healed me, Brodie.”

He stood motionless, careful not to shatter their fragile peace.

“Trust is our foundation,” Moira said, her voice steady. “I need yer unwavering faith as the Highlands are ancient and unyielding.” Her eyes, mirroring the fierceness of the glens, held his own. “Can ye trust in me loyalty and love?”

Brodie’s voice resonated with newfound clarity.

“Aye, Moira, I can, and I will.” The weight of his past misgivings lay bare in those words.

“My jealousy clouded my judgment. ’Tis a fault I deeply regret.

Ye’ve done nothing to betray me, and I think I have just worried that ye dinnae really love me. ”

He reached up, cradling her face, thumbs caressing away uncertainty. “Ye are the heart of me. This, I swear this to ye. And going forward, I will be better. I will do all I can to keep ye and our bairn happy.”

Moira sighed softly, leaning into his touch. In the quiet courtyard, they found solace in each other’s presence.

Brodie wrapped his arms around Moira, pulling her close. Her head rested against his chest, listening to the steady drumming of his heart—a rhythm that spoke of enduring strength.

“Whatever comes,” Brodie murmured into her hair, “we’ll face it together.”

“Aye, we will,” Moira affirmed. She was thankful he finally understood, and they could be together. She said a silent prayer that his jealousy would never take over again.

The Highland air carried the distant echo of a piper’s melody, winding through glens and over heather-strewn hills. Brodie held Moira, absorbing the serenity around them.

“Listen,” Moira breathed. “The Highlands sing for us.”

Brodie nodded, aware of the rustling leaves, soft murmur of water from a nearby loch, and the call of an eagle. Releasing her, he took her hand and together they faced the ivy-covered castle walls.

Their steps matched in a silent dance as they approached the heavy oak doors. Brodie glanced at Moira, whose eyes were reminiscent of the sky overhead. Her spirit burned brighter than ever.

“Moira,” he said, “I vow to stand by ye, to honor yer strength and meet it with me own.”

“And I will hold ye to that promise, Brodie McClain,” she replied firmly. “Together, we are unbreakable.”

Hand in hand, they crossed the threshold, carrying memories of their surroundings with them.

Torches flickered, casting a glow on Brodie and Moira’s faces as they exchanged meaningful glances.

Brodie squeezed Moira’s hand and said, “The trials we’ve faced have forged us anew—stronger than steel or these walls.”

Moira nodded, her green eyes ablaze with determination. “Fire-tested, we emerged tempered. The Sinclair betrayal, the Stewart conspiracy…it led us here.”

“Here,” Brodie agreed, pausing beneath an archway leading to the great chamber. “Our clans united against any challenge.”

“Like entwined oaks outside these walls,” she added, admiration in her gaze.

Their hands clasped as they entered the chamber where kinsmen greeted them enthusiastically. A shared glance between Brodie and Moira held an ember of hope for their future.

Their love would serve as a guide through life’s storms—bound by trust.

*

As Brodie and Moira stepped outside the castle walls, the cool Highland breeze carried scents of pine and wild thyme. The land stretched before them like an untamed canvas under the late afternoon sun.

“The Highlands await us,” Moira said, her voice harmonizing with the wind.

“Aye, lass,” Brodie murmured, fingers intertwined, “our tale is far from over.”

Moira challenged, “Race you to the stream,” and sprinted forward, her hair trailing like a flame in motion.

Brodie followed, laughter filling the glen as they ran toward their future, both of them content with the knowledge the other loved them.

“Whatever comes,” Brodie vowed, his voice steady as the mountains, “we’ll face it side by side.”

“And win,” Moira said. At that moment, everything in her world revolved around her husband. She knew it wouldn’t be long before they had a houseful of children, and then they would be her focus.

In this quiet moment, the future lay rich with mystery and magic of the Scottish Highlands—an endless horizon of hope and possibility for the couple whose hearts beat fiercely as the untamed land they called home.