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The next morning, Glennie’s maidservant came in to prepare her for the day as usual, but she seemed unusually quiet and thoughtful.

“Catriona?” she asked anxiously. “Are you all right?”

Catriona looked at Glennie with an expression that was half-smile and half-frown, then said, “I am fine, Milady, but that other woman—Moira—she isnae.”

Glennie sat up in bed suddenly. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked anxiously.

Catriona sighed. Like anyone else, she hated to be the bearer of bad tidings. “She had a bad accident last night an’ fell in the river,” she answered. “The Laird pulled her out an’ brought her home but she isnae well.”

“I must go and see her.” Glennie scrambled out of bed and picked out her clothes, and dashed out of her door. She sprinted along the corridor and upstairs to Moira’s chamber, then knocked on the door more firmly than she usually would have done.

Her knock was answered a few seconds later by Sandie, who looked pale and tired. “Milady,” she said with a polite curtsey.

“How is she?” Glennie ashed, her voice hushed.

“Well, she had a bad fever a few hours ago,” Sandie answered, “but I gave her some willow bark tea an’ her temperature has come down a wee bit.”

“Do you think talking to her would tire her out?” Glennie asked.

“Will you two stop whispering about me?” Moira complained suddenly. “I’m fine.”

Sandie looked at her. “Ye can talk for a wee while,” she said sternly, “but if ye feel tired, Moira, ye must stop. I am goin’ for a wee rest.”

“I will be fine, Sandie.” Moira gave her a warm smile. “And you must rest as long as you need to. Thank you for everything.”

Sandie returned the smile then curtsied to Glennie before leaving.

“We are so lucky to have her,” Moira remarked.

“Indeed we are,” Glennie agreed, before turning to Moira again. “How are you feeling?”

She looked anxious, and Moira hastened to reassure her. “I am better now, thank you, Glennie,” she replied soothingly. “I will leave as soon as I can. I have taken up too much of everyone’s time already.”

She sighed, and Glennie, looking at her downcast expression, felt infinitely sorry for her. She took Moira’s hands in her own; they were so much smaller, and suddenly Glennie felt extremely protective. From what she had learned about this woman, she had endured a hard life before finding her way to Baltyre Castle. Niall had not believed her story of being abused, but Glennie had a feeling that he was beginning to change his mind, as she had.

Remembering the hostility she had felt and exhibited the first time she met Moira, Glennie had at first felt embarrassed and ashamed. However, as she came to know her, Glennie had discovered that underneath her wariness and distrust, Moira was someone she could happily befriend and value.

Moira’s white translucent skin had been rendered even paler, and Glennie felt anxious as she gazed at her, hoping that whatever ailed Moira was not too serious.

“You have not wasted anyone’s time,” she said gently, “and especially not mine. I do not want you to go away, Moira. I want you to stay here and be my companion, but not the kind of companion who is like a servant. I want you to be my friend.

Do you know what it is like to be the only woman among hundreds of men? There are maidservants, of course, but we don’t mix, and Niall has never had a circle of friends, so I cannot be friends with their wives or sisters.

I have no female company here at all, but that is not the only reason I want you to stay here, Moira. I like you, and I believe we could rub along very nicely together. I could even make sure that you have your own suite of rooms because I know that a person needs their own space sometimes.

We have a good library here, and a music room that our great-grandfather insisted on.” She laughed. “We are an interesting lot, if nothing else.”

“Can you play an instrument?” Moira asked. She was trying to divert the topic of the conversation away from her staying in Baltyre.

Glennie shook her head, smiling. “I have no talents in that direction,” she answered. “But I do not want to talk about me. I want to know about you, and I want to tell you about Niall.”

At the mention of his name, Glennie saw Moira’s expression change to one of wariness, and she took her hands out of Glennie’s grasp and wrapped her arms around herself.

Even hearing Glennie saying Niall’s name made Moira suddenly feel cold. She wanted to confide in Glennie because the burden of her secret was beginning to become too heavy, but she simply could not bring herself to do so. What if Glennie told him, and he sent her back to Brodie McDonnell? No, she could not take the chance, it was too dangerous.

Although Glennie could see that Moira was beginning to get upset, she knew she had to persevere. “Listen, Moira,” she said gently. “My brother may look fierce and brutal, but her has suffered a lot. Our father was a cold and angry man, and our family had many fierce conflicts with other clans; as he grew up, he had to learn to fight, and it made him look tough and hard, but he is really not like that inside.”

Moira was about to say, “So have I,” but restrained herself at the last moment. The less Glennie knew about her, the better. She had no intention of going through her previous life experiences again. She would rather be dead.

Moira was still tired, but she needed to be alone to think and plan. She had no intention of staying at Baltyre any longer than she had to. Her previous attempts to leave had not succeeded, but she would not let that stop her from trying again.

Glennie sighed and stood up. “I can see that you need to rest, Moira, so I’ll go. But please think about what I said.”

“I will,” Moira answered, with a weary smile.

Glennie stood up, then leaned over to plant a soft kiss on Moira’s cheek. “Get well soon,” she said fondly, then left.

Moira breathed a huge sigh of relief, glad to be alone again, but her reprieve did not last long.

Only minutes later, another knock sounded at the door, but this time the person who wanted to gain admittance simply walked in. It was Gerald McNicholl, who was carrying a pot of tea on a tray. It was a drink that had just been brought to Scotland and was gaining popularity.

The old man approached Moira’s bed and set the tea down on the table beside the bed. He looked both sad and angry at the same time as he said, “Moira, please forgive me. I should not have told you about the loch. You do not know this place well, and I did not give clear directions. I never thought you’d want to go there. Please forgive me.”

Moira pasted on a smile. “Of course I do, it was my fault for riding out after dark,” she said at once.

The old man put his hand on his chest in a gesture of relief. “The Laird was furious with me,” he said. “But I deserved it. I never should have suggested that you go to the loch. I tend to think everyone knows this place as well as I do. How are you feeling?”

“Much better than I did last night, thank you,” Moira replied. “Sandie has been taking care of me, and she is a wonderful healer.”

“The best there is,” Gerald agreed, smiling. He poured the tea for her, then asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, thank you, Gerald,” Moira replied. “I just need to rest.”

Niall had been on his way to see Moira, so, seeing Gerald coming out of her chamber, he went to inquire how she was.

“She is tired,” Gerald replied. “She is pale and looks exhausted. I would not trouble her at the moment.”

Niall stood, thinking, trying to make up his mind as to whether to heed Gerald’s advice or do as he had intended to do. He badly wanted to see Moira, not only to reassure himself that she was all right, but also to fulfil a desperate need inside himself just to look at her again. He was desperate to lay his eyes on her porcelain skin again, to look into her pale blue eyes.

Gerald went on, “If I were in such a state, I would want peace and quiet, My Laird. Think of what she has been through.” He stopped to put his hands on Niall’s shoulders and looked into his eyes with a concerned frown. “I understand your concern, but let her recover a wee bit.”

Niall sighed and nodded slowly. “Thank you, Gerald.”

Gerald smiled and patted Niall’s shoulder. “Moira is a strong lady, but she will never be as strong as a man. Let her rest.” Then he turned and walked away, leaving Niall alone.

Niall had been so lost in thought, he didn’t realise he had walked towards the door to Moira’s chamber, and opened the door. He closed it softly, then stood looking at the bed for a moment before slowly walking towards it.

Moira’s eyes were closed, her breathing soft and even, and Niall stood looking down at her for a long moment. However, gazing at her was not what he wanted to do at all. He wanted to scoop Moira up in his arms, press her against him and kiss her till they were both senseless. That was not all he wanted to do, of course, but he dared not let his thoughts go any further.

Niall sighed and reached out a hand to touch her cheek. Her skin felt as soft as he had imagined, and he smiled, then whispered, “You look beautiful in your sleep, Moira.”

He was about to bend down and kiss her forehead when Moira’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked straight into his.

“I-I’m sorry,” Niall said regretfully. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t really asleep,” she replied. “Just dozing.”

He sat down again. “How do you feel?”

“Strange,” Moira replied. “As if the whole thing happened to someone else.”

She shook her head slowly, rubbing her eyes, then tried to sit up. However, when Niall leaned forward to help her, she shrank away, frowning.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, but had a trace of bitterness in it. Could he do nothing right for this woman? “Can I get you some warm ale?”

“Thank you,” Moira answered, and Niall got up to summon a servant to bring the drink, then he walked over to the window to look out. It was a wet and miserable day; the wind was howling through the trees, and rain was lashing the walls of the castle, being driven almost horizontally by the force of the gale.

Niall wished he could wave a magic wand and make this horrible storm go away. At the same time, he wanted to make the atmosphere in the room warm and calm, instead of full of the icy tension that filled it at that moment.

When the ale arrived, Niall sat down at the side of the bed and took a sip of the beer, looking at Moira all the while. She was studiously avoiding his gaze, however, until he said, “Why did you go into the loch if you cannot swim? That takes a great deal of courage, especially at this time of year when it is absolutely freezing.”

Moira looked up at him, mystified. “I had no intention of swimming. I just wanted to sit and relax for a while. I would be really foolish to try swimming in the dark. I ended up there accidentally, my horse was startled by the howl of a wolf.”

He sighed irritably, visibly annoyed now. “Moira, you should have let me go with you, or taken a guard along, or not gone out at all. You could have been killed!” He had worked himself into such a state that his face had become red with fury.

Instinctively, Moira flinched and drew back, pulling herself as far away from Niall as possible. She looked terrified; they were alone, and the walls of her chamber were so thick no sound would penetrate them even if she screamed as loudly as she could. She looked trapped with no escape.

Niall realised, then, that he had said the wrong thing in the wrong way. He should have been less aggressive.

“What happened to you, Moira?” he asked gently. He reached out a hand to cover hers, but she recoiled from his touch. “Were you imprisoned? Trapped?”

Moira let out a trembling sigh. She had to satisfy Niall’s curiosity somehow, but she could not tell him the whole truth, or he might send her to Brodie McDonnell, which would be tantamount to a death sentence.

A sip of her ale gave her a few seconds to gather her thoughts and avoid Niall’s gaze, since she was afraid that if he looked into her eyes, he would see the damning truth.

“I-I was locked away for a while,” she confessed. “Because my father thought I might run away. He was a cruel man, and so was my betrothed. I managed to get away at last, though, but I had to steal a horse, so he will probably use that as an excuse to come after me. Now, I do not wish to discuss him any more. Would you want to remember cruelty if it was committed on you? Why do you keep asking me about it?”

While Moira was speaking, Niall had been staring at her with a ferocious frown. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were bunched into fists.

Despite her attempt to look defiant and unafraid, Moira stared at him with wide, fear filled eyes, wishing she could just disappear.

“Your betrothed locked you up,” he said, attempting to make his voice calm despite the rage that was boiling within him. “Do you think I would do the same? Do you seriously think I am that kind of man?”

Moira glanced at Niall for a moment, surprised by the question, then her eyes returned to her hands, which she was twisting on her lap. She nodded slowly, her whole body tense as she looked away from him. “Yes, I do. I know no other kind of man,” she replied.

Niall stared at her for a few moments, then he looked like something inside him had cracked and sent splinters of pain searing through him.

Moira watched him from the corner of her eye as he turned and left; something about him was different, but she could not quite put her finger on what it was. She could not possibly have hurt him because you needed to have a heart to have it broken, she thought, and as far as she could see, Niall McPhee had no such thing.