Page 6 of Highland Heroine (Brides of the Highlands #3)
M oira followed Brodie through the dense trees, the wind weaving a chorus above them. She brushed back her red hair, eyes taking in the endless Highlands. She couldn’t imagine a more beautiful place to live.
Brodie led them to a secluded glen, sunlight dappling the ground and patterns dancing in the breeze. Moira breathed in deeply, happy to be outdoors where she belonged. Other women may be happy hiding in the keep, but she was not. This was truly where she belonged.
“Have ye ever seen such splendor?” Brodie whispered, gesturing toward the landscape, wilderness reflecting in his brown eyes.
“Every day when I wake up, I see the beauty of the land we love,” Moira replied.
They reached a hill overlooking the McAfee castle grounds. The imposing structure stood watching over them. Brodie stopped, all around him at the land.
“My father is the seventh son of a seventh son,” he said.
“Our lineage stretches back to Norman lands and a distant ancestor came to England with William the Conqueror.” The magic of his bloodline lingered unspoken.
He wanted to tell her more, but he wasn’t sure how she would react.
It had been a closely guarded secret for a long time, and the idea of sharing it, even with Moira, was frightening.
There were rumblings of the persecution of witches, and though he and his family knew they were not witches, he truly wasn’t certain how others would react.
Moira smiled. “Ailis is certain she saw Boyd disappear. That must be from the magic running through his veins,” she said with a laugh.
He just grinned, unwilling to confirm or deny what had happened with their siblings a couple of months before.
A breeze stirred Moira’s hair as she met Brodie’s gaze. Their conversation was lost to the wind, leaving behind only their shared glance.
“When I was young, I felt the weight of expectation,” Moira whispered, stepping closer.
“Being the youngest, there was much to prove.” She confessed her doubts about living up to her family’s legacy or carving her own path.
“I always felt like less than me sisters because me mother was Father’s third wife and not his first. He never treated me differently, but it was always right there in the back of me mind. ”
In the Highland stillness, Moira wasn’t afraid to reveal her insecurities.
Brodie reached out and touched her arm, his eyes shimmering with empathy. “Ye are not alone in your fears,” Brodie said. “It is not the absence of fear that defines us, but how we face it.”
Moira’s breath faltered as Brodie stepped forward, the warmth between them palpable. His quiet strength separated him from his kin, a gravity that connected their spirits.
Their eyes held fast, two souls conversing without words, each glance an unspoken promise. The wind carried ancient songs of the Highlands, whispering of entwined destinies.
Compelled by something beyond his ken, Brodie leaned in and their lips met in a passionate collision, forged by the wild landscape. Untold stories and uncharted futures were hinted at by this joining of courage and hope.
The world narrowed to the point of connection, urgency leaving no room for doubt. Moira’s hands felt the steady drum of Brodie’s heart against her palms, syncing with hers in an eternal dance.
It was not a gentle joining but one of fierce belonging—they were both too fierce about everything in life for it to be any different. The kiss sealed truths under the watchful eyes of towering peaks and sheltering sky.
As they parted, breaths mingling in the cool highland air, the profound reality of their bond settled into their hearts like the vast glens before them.
Time seemed to pause, granting them an eternity in a heartbeat. Moira’s senses were heightened, acutely aware of Brodie’s body against hers. Their heartbeats joined in a powerful symphony resonating deep within her bones.
Inhaling his scent of pine and earth, she wove her fingers into his hair, pulling him nearer. They moved as one, two spirits dancing to ancient Highland rhythms. Surroundings faded away, leaving only the press of Brodie’s lips.
His hands traced her arms all the way to her shoulders, and then her neck. He was always surprised by how soft this woman’s skin was when she was so fierce in every other way.
Their lips parted, warmth lingering between them. Foreheads pressed together, the world’s sounds seeped back in—the rustle of leaves and whispering wind. Moira’s heart raced, her eyes locked with Brodie’s brown pools holding unspoken secrets.
Her cheeks flushed, and newfound vulnerability washed over her. “Brodie,” she began softly before faltering, hesitating to expose her inner turmoil.
Surrounded by Highland majesty, Moira stood at a crossroads. Her heartbeats shook the walls she’d built around herself, crumbling them to dust.
“Ye ken what I feel for ye,” she whispered, fiery hair catching the light like courage, “is something fierce and wild.” Her fingers traced Brodie’s jaw—the touch spoke of trust forged through battle. “It scares me more than any blade or arrow ever could.”
Her admission filled the air as they stood among the windswept hills. Moira waited, not as a sister or warrior, but as a woman venturing into her own heart’s unknown territory.
Brodie’s eyes ignited with joy, reflecting the fiery hue of Moira’s hair in twilight. He reached for her hands, his voice resonant. “Moira, ye’ve given me a gift greater than any Highland treasure.”
The words wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. She felt the thrum of life where their fingers intertwined.
In that confession lay the end of uncertainty. They stepped into each other’s arms, hearts pulsing to an ancient melody woven into the land itself.
As Brodie held her securely, Moira nestled into his shoulder, closing her eyes to savor their embrace. The wind whispered through the heather and pine as if in reverence to their bond.
“Whatever may come,” he murmured against her hair, “we’ll get through it together.”
His words wrapped her in certainty. Here, in Brodie’s arms, she found sanctuary.
Moira’s fingers slipped from Brodie’s grasp, lingering briefly on his calloused hands. “Time will not wait for us,” she whispered, her voice strong yet vulnerable.
Brodie nodded, his eyes focused on her face. “Aye, Moira, we ken what must be done.”
They stood side by side, gazing toward the horizon where her home lay hidden among the peaks and valleys. Thoughts of secret meetings, whispers of rebellion, and delicate alliances filled their minds.
“I want ye to be careful in battle,” he said. “Stay in the keep if at all possible.”
She sighed. “Ye and everyone else think I need to be cosseted, but I dinnae. I am strong.”
As they walked back to the keep, she felt a sense of tranquility wash over her. She was happy to have this man at her side.
The warmth of Brodie’s touch lingered on her skin, counteracting the night’s creeping chill. A shiver tingled down her spine—not from cold but from uncertainty and the allure of the battles to come.
Torchlight flickered in the distance, guiding her toward home while reminding her of their divided worlds. With each step, she pondered Brodie—his calm brown eyes, his expressive voice, and the way he regarded her with complete sincerity.
Her heart surged as she clutched the intricate tartan fabric over her chest. Resolution filled her stride, showcasing her unyielding courage and determination to fight for what mattered most.
Pausing at the crest of a hill overlooking Clan McAfee grounds, Moira allowed herself one fleeting moment to dream—a future where Brodie stood patiently beside her, combining his keen mind with her fiery passion to face Highland intrigues together.